Bubble Gaze | KAYONE AU O-SHOT
Because the heart doesn't understand self-imposed limits, and Yone realized that...
(Adaptations are not allowed. I am also a Spanish-speaking writer.)
Their gazes had met more than once; at that point he clearly understood it was not something that happened by accident. They were looking for each other among the others, among the many faces that filled the place, through the noise caused by the screams of the fans, crossing the entire stage and ignoring the spotlights dancing above their heads. While they danced, jumped and sang, even when Kayn seemed to boast at the edge of the stage, extending his hand just to see how everyone pushed each other to try to touch his fingers, and then he watched him almost as if he were seeking his approval, even if he was not the kind who longs to hear the opinion of others. From the beginning things had been like that, their gazes had that kind of attraction, that deep intensity they could not ignore, but neither said anything about it, they kept pretending that things were sailing through the right ocean.
—You two have something very weird going on —Ezreal commented that night, at the end of the fifth concert of a twenty-six-show tour. The hotel room was spacious, but all six of them were not there; they had split into groups of three, the other guys were in the room at the end of the long corridor— it feels creepy crossing paths between you two.
—You’re hallucinating —Yone was clear. His gaze was on his suitcase, he was arranging his things, they would perform the concert the next morning and then move on to the next destination. He didn’t want to be in a rush later like Ezreal or Sett; they were never ready on time, they always lost something and delayed the whole group.
—I’m sure it’s not —Ezreal was swinging his feet while sitting poorly in the armchair next to the bathroom door. Around him crumbs fell while he ate that bun he had bought at the airport— I don’t know if you like or hate each other, you always look at each other like that… ugh! —he let out when he remembered that chill that ran through him every time his path crossed the direction of their gazes.
—Maybe they have something to say —The bathroom door opened and along with the steam came Sett while he wiped his hair with a towel. The pajama shirt clung to his chest, the pants almost dragging on the floor. He had been desperate all day to take a shower— You should be honest with him, you’re the oldest among us, set an example for us.
Yone frowned upon hearing the beastman’s words; they were not children for him to have to set an example. Besides, why did they have to leave him in the same room with that duo of idiots? Aphelios would have been a better option, he would not be bothering like that—he couldn’t even speak because of his operation—and K’Sante was surely already asleep. But it was also true it would have been a bad idea to leave Ezreal, Sett and Kayn together in the same room; they were grown, thinking and responsible men, but if they were left with Shieda, they would clearly throw a party in minutes. They had been working together for over a year, of course he talked to him, they had had “moments” he did not fully understand and they ended up in discomfort, one of them would end up walking away and he was old enough to understand what was happening and that made his stomach churn because the guy was like a madman. It could be said they were close, not as much as Phel and Sett, nor as much as he was with K’Sante, but he trusted him in some way; he had proven to be a headache, but also had a bond with the group, to the point he did not understand where the bad reputation he carried came from.
—Maybe he’s too shy to say it, don’t tease him —Ezreal turned to Sett, poking him knowing it would annoy Yone, because he liked seeing the calm one trying not to yell at them for being a duo of idiots— He’s sooo embarrassed!
—Like a schoolgirl —Sett jumped in while throwing the towel somewhere before collapsing onto the small bed at one end of the room. His bulky body sank into the overly soft mattress and his laugh echoed along with Ezreal’s.
Yone simply ignored them, frowning while pushing clothes into the suitcase on his bed. He was not embarrassed, he was not fifteen or twenty; romance was natural, attraction seemed completely normal to him so there was nothing to feel embarrassed about. That was not what stopped him from taking Kayn’s hand, he did not fear clarifying what was between them, and technically the only thing stopping him were the differences that marked them. His head hurt just thinking about how chaotic Shieda was, especially with that alter ego of his, Rhaast, and the truth was he preferred to avoid putting the band in a difficult position. They were not there to mess around backstage, they had not been brought together to go on dates but to combine their talents, to surprise the audience with their compositions, with their voices. What would happen if they ruined it? What if their differences were too big? Both would tear down the entire band, he was aware of that, that was all; he did not want to put the others in trouble, he did not want to ruin his own career.
—Go to sleep —Yone recommended once he closed the suitcase, his two-toned hair tied in a low ponytail, several strands escaping its control— we have to start rehearsals early tomorrow.
—And you? —Settrigh asked while moving on the bed, trying to cover himself without getting up, already too exhausted, the day had been long. Ezreal had gone into the bathroom to clean up before sleeping.
—I have to check some things on the song list for tomorrow —he stated while grabbing his laptop, which he had left on the side table separating his bed from the vastaya boy’s bed. He walked to the small desk on the other side of the room and sat there, ready to stay up late. They had some new songs, he wanted to check details before the performance— I’ll try not to sleep too late, don’t worry.
His gaze moved slightly toward the red-haired boy; he was already asleep, half covered by messy blankets. He let out a soft chuckle before returning his attention to the already lit screen. He put on headphones and in seconds he was doing his work; he was not aware of the moment Ezreal got into bed nor how quickly the hours passed, but when he looked at the clock, the night had already slipped away. Sett’s alarm phone filled the room; soon they would have to start rehearsals so the concert would be perfect, so once again the screams of the fans would not be in vain.
The day went on as expected; an hour earlier they were already doing the necessary stage tests and all its components. It was them and the STAFF members preparing everything: the mixer, the lights, the sparks that would come from the bottom of the stage because Sett had requested it, the general outfit. Light makeup, clothing, microphones. Yone was sitting at the edge of the stage, holding a cup of coffee and looking at the empty seats that in an hour would be full. He was tired, not much since he had slept a few minutes during the trip to the stadium, but he felt foolish for having sent the others to sleep when he had stayed awake.
—Did you stay working late?
Yone looked up when he heard Kayn’s voice, saw him standing there and followed him with his eyes when he sat beside him. Not too close, just enough to hear each other. He looked at his young face and messy two-toned hair, that fuchsia shade in the front with violet strands at the back. His heterochromia eyes, his sharp face; he had looked at him so many times during their time as a band that he could even count his eyelashes, but he was not allowed to.
—I didn’t sleep. I thought it would be a good idea to review everything before today —he said while averting his gaze from his bandmate. Somehow he had been caught off guard by the other’s interest; he thought he was in the dressing rooms and not there beside him, sitting like a sane person instead of messing with all the staff equipment.
—You’re always too responsible —Shieda said while looking at the profile of the one who now avoided his gaze. The night before he had not stopped thinking about him and that had put him in a bad mood until he finally fell asleep— you should relax.
—If I relax, we’ll be left without planning.
—We can help you with that —Kayn spoke for everyone; he didn’t know if it would be like that, something told him yes.
Their gazes clashed for seconds, Yone’s turquoise looked softer in contrast with Kayn’s heterochromia. Between them there was something that rose like a lurking shadow, waiting for any weakness to strike. One extra second, one unnecessary word, one missing centimeter, one poorly calculated breath—any opening would be enough for what they were holding to slip through their fingers. But Yone was too difficult; breaking through the barriers around him was not easy. Shieda looked, but even if both were in each other’s field of vision, even if they felt the same way, it seemed Kayn could not surpass that limit.
He had tried once. First in the way he knew, that too direct flirting, that chatter trying to force the truth, that closeness threatening the other’s calm, but everything he did seemed to hit some kind of force field and float in space; his feelings searched for a place to land but ended up frozen somewhere. He had tried to adapt to Yone’s rhythm, lowered his initial provocation, tried to fit his style, went back to his overwhelming attempts to connect, and simply failed every time, because Yone was impenetrable, even if he found that spark in his gaze. Kayn was young, but not inexperienced, not blind and far from foolish; he recognized the feeling, the pressure in his chest when he looked at him, the way their gazes met, he was certain Yone felt the same, but he could not prove it.
There were no kisses, no caresses that could serve as arguments.
—Why do we keep doing this? —Shieda asked when he got no answer from the other beside him. His brows furrowed slightly, his body suddenly tensed when he asked, his gaze not leaving the face that trapped him like a mouse trap.
—Because it’s not going to work —Yone stated.
—Wh—
—Guys, there are only a few minutes left! We need to get ready! —K’Sante’s voice was heard calling them. Yone was the first to stand up, holding the cup in his hand he hurried to escape the situation, the conversation.
—Hey… —Kayn quickly stood up to follow him. His steps fast, confusion rising in his throat. How? If they both wanted it, why wouldn’t it work?
He lost him; he no longer had the chance to reach him the moment he entered his dressing room like a fox into its burrow—so agile, so fast just turning away from his words, from the situation, from him and from the way he had just dropped his heart even while throwing it at him. Why did he even open his mouth? He should have stayed quiet and pretended nothing, calmly enjoying the way their gazes met as always.
Minutes passed. The audience began to arrive, the lights of the place were dim while everyone settled. They were already dressed for the occasion; Ezreal’s smile was huge, Sett was ready to go out, K’Sante stretched his clothes as if he wouldn’t wrinkle them with so much jumping on stage. Phel stayed close to the vastaya boy and Kayn prepared, his gaze in the darkness searching for Yone… who had positioned himself on the other side of the stage, far from him.
Their gazes clashed again. But the tension had broken; what both saw forced them to look away this time, as if it burned. The older of the two only wanted to chain his emotions again, now overflowing; when he ran from the boy with heterochromia he thought he would catch him, that he would hold him and confront him, his heart beating so fast.
The music started when the stadium was full, colorful lights illuminated everything. The screams were heard, the enthusiasm of artists and fans made the atmosphere chaotic. Singing, jumping, running around, receiving gifts thrown by many, smiling, everyone shining in their prepared outfits, but Kayn could only chase the longing of his gaze; ironically, it shone more when he was at the back of the stage, behind the mixer, playing with the melodies, smiling as if nothing pursued him.
He held the microphone, but he could no longer hold what he felt for him. He didn’t care about what the “haters” said, he sang precisely to go against them. He didn’t care about society, criticism, those who always tried to label him as just someone with a bad reputation. He didn’t care about any of that; he liked annoying others, making them lose patience, and if possible, fighting with his fists. But not with Yone… he couldn’t not hear him, not respect him, not adore him, and he wanted to slip under his skin, bury his fingers in his hair, bring their bodies together and simply whisper how much he longed for him.
He knew it was the same for him. So why didn’t they let everything evolve? Their gazes met once more, with that intensity Ezreal noticed, with the embarrassment Sett pointed out; everyone could see it, even the quiet Aphelios noticed the bubble they could not name but also did not break, letting it float as if afraid it would explode.
The music, the screams.
It was two hours of happiness for the fans and one hundred and twenty minutes of suffering for Kayn. By the time the lights finally went out, he just wanted to go to his bed. But they had to get on the bus that would take them to the next city; staff members had everything packed, they would sleep during the trip until reaching the next hotel. The stadium was empty, the lights turned off, equipment stored in the bus trunk, and they climbed one after another into the illuminated blue corridor.
The seats were wide; Kayn moved to the back and collapsed into several chairs. Exhausted like never before, the others were surprised he wasn’t still jumping with post-concert energy. Usually he was like a monkey hanging from the bus rails; now he was just there, destroyed, and no one understood what was happening, but exhaustion consumed them too so they settled in their seats while listening to the melody playing through the speakers.
It was night; they would arrive in the morning. They had better sleep well. Yone was two seats ahead, leaning against the window watching them leave yet another city and thinking about Kayn’s question, their gazes, the refusal he had given him, and how that could affect them. Hours passed while they traveled the road and everyone was asleep when he finally decided.
He stood up with difficulty; the small space in the aisle made it hard and his heart spun as he walked toward the back of the bus, but he did not stop even when his legs trembled, because if he hesitated, he would return to his damn seat and if he returned there, he would never gather the courage to pretend it did not matter affecting the others with his selfish decision. Because if they failed, tensions would grow, they would clash, they would not be able to look at each other the same way as now, and it would end what they had built together.
He had to pretend it didn’t matter. That it didn’t worry him, while his fragile legs warned him it mattered too much, the ending they could have, the danger their band could face. While his gaze barely saw in the darkness of the vehicle and the lights of other cars entered through the windows, he finally reached Kayn, now sitting at one of the ends by the window. Their gazes clashed once more because neither of them had been able to sleep, and the words got stuck.
—What? —Shieda was somewhat abrupt, because honestly there was no point if Yone would not allow anything to move forward.
—I don’t want just your gaze —Yone was still in place, holding the safety bar from ceiling to floor, his two-toned hair falling over his broad shoulders, his turquoise gaze watching the way night lights and shadows played on Kayn’s sharp face.
Their gazes met.
Waiting for more. Longing for something.
—I don’t want to just see you —Yone was honest, because he couldn’t stand it, he knew it was wrong, he knew he was putting them at risk, and even so he wanted at least a kiss, a moment of intimacy, something beyond— I want to have you.
He froze the moment he said it, as if he had just sentenced himself to death, as if the worst sin had come out of his mouth. Frozen in place, while Shieda stood up enough from his seat to reach him, to grab one of his arms and pull him onto the seat, an act driven only by overflowing longing, a desperate need to gain something more, affection bubbling out of their hands as their lips met. Firm, clumsy, the most anxious kiss they had ever shared.
They waited for it, the way Yone leaned a little more, the cold of the window too close. His body pressed against the seat, Kayn’s fingers slipping into his hair.
—You have me —Shieda only broke the kiss to look at him once more, to appreciate the closeness of their faces, to finally see their feelings reach the station.
To witness the sound of the bubble bursting.
