"So--explain to me again how filming for a drama spot just 'comes up at the last minute.'" Takashi smiled to himself, scrolling through a text from Kimeru on his phone detailing where Takashi was to give his name to be seated at the performance. "It didn't 'come up'; it just slipped his mind. He's been busy lately with HappyPani rehearsals and all." "Why am I not surprised..." Tamaoki muttered, albeit without much bite. Half the fun from his job, although he'd admit it to no one, came now from ribbing Takashi on the many splendored excuses Tsuchiya managed to concoct to get out of evenings out together. "Are you planning on going again?" Takashi flipped his phone shut with a shrug, affecting disinterest. "If I can get off rehearsals early." "It's awfully close to opening night to be skipping rehearsals, you know." Takashi gave him a look that said of course he knew. "I'm just saying; it doesn't reflect well on your commitment to the show if the star begs off time from run-throughs to party with friends." Takashi rolled his eyes, but his stomach turned uncomfortably; he knew Tamaoki was right. "It's once a year; it's not just a party. I like being there to support them." "And you know I have no problem with that--the acting business is about friends and connections, and of course you want to show them you're happy for them, interested in their ventures. But your own well-being and career should come first. I'd think they'd more than understand that." "I haven't even asked time off yet," Takashi reminded him, one brow raised. "It's not like I have to go; if Yamato-san says no--" "If--" Tamaoki corrected, "--he even implies it would be an inconvenience--" Takashi frowned, sighing. "...Then I won't go." Tamaoki rolled his eyes, more than accustomed to Takashi's occasional dramatics when things weren't quite going his way or when his manager got a little too, well, managerial. "Wipe that pout off, we're almost to the theater." "You know, I didn't have to invite you." Tamaoki distracted himself by attempting to peer around the driver's head to see their approaching stop. "Tsuchiya-kun stood you up; going alone would've been embarrassing." He slumped back in the seat, regarding the back of Takashi's head--the only part he could see, now that Takashi was making every effort to ignore him. He cleared his throat, going for a casual air. "...So, you think he's going to come see your show?" A pause. "...Probably not." His tone betrayed nothing--not disappointment, not amusement, just a neutral observation. And an astute one, at that. The taxi jerked to a halt, and Tamaoki silently dropped two thousand-yen notes into the small tray, sweeping up his change and begging a receipt off the driver. He adjusted the bag on his shoulder after sliding out, waiting for Takashi to do the same, and squinted in the bright light of early evening. Shading his eyes with his hands, he waited until the taxi had pulled away from the curb again before continuing. "Does he have any particular reason? Or is it just the usual?" "Usual, probably." Takashi started walking in the direction of the theater, leaving Tamaoki to catch up. "So, he's just an ass?" Takashi ignored him. "Are you going to give me the silent treatment all night, Takashi?" This got him to stop in his tracks. "Takashi--" "He's not an ass." He jerked his head to glance back at Tamaoki. "He's--okay, he can be an ass. Just not because of this." Tamaoki collected himself, realizing belatedly that what he'd meant as a part of their usual back and forth biting commentary on Tsuchiya had come off as a genuine complaint. "I'm sorry--I shouldn't have made that comment--" "He doesn't come because I don't want him to come," Takashi huffed, crossing his arms in a Can we go now? gesture. "I just--it makes me nervous." After a beat of silence, Tamaoki nodded. "So you ask him not to come?" "No," Takashi corrected, turning and plodding again on towards the theater, arms swinging at his sides now. "He just gets the hint, I guess." He understood this; it was hard to miss Takashi's "hints" most of the time. And Tamaoki half-wondered if a certain callous comment from years back regarding Takashi's skills as an actor may have put some of this needless space between the two. Tamaoki knew--Takashi took his craft frustratingly seriously at times and far too lightly for comfort at others. But when it came time to be on--out there on stage and putting his hard work up for scrutiny, it was a Big Deal, and Tsuchiya-kun was...well, not the gentlest of critics. Tamaoki had never known the man to be anything but honest in his critique of performances (particularly his own), rarely sugar-coating his opinions and more often than not opting to just keep his mouth shut if he hadn't enjoyed a friend's show--thoughts that liked to creep out under the influence of alcohol and late night parties, as history had shown. It was different when the tables were turned, of course; Tsuchiya-kun thrived with a rapt audience hanging on his every word, following his every move, and he especially liked showing off even for parties that were more than familiar with his talents already. Why the man still felt the need to preen and strut like a peacock when he and Takashi had been virtually inseparable for years now was beyond Tamaoki; he highly doubted it was Tsuchiya-kun's acting or dance skills keeping his client coming back for more, and more, and more. He traipsed after Takashi, hands in his pockets, and stared ahead at the looming theater. "You should invite him to more things." Takashi gave him a sidelong glance, less angry and more Are you out of your mind? "I'm serious," he smiled, shrugging. "You could use his comments sometimes." "Maybe you're just hoping we'll get into a fight and break up." "Well it would make my job easier--" He let out a soft oof when Takashi shoved him good-naturedly, dark mood lifting and sloughing away. "He wouldn't tell you anything you didn't need to know, Takashi. Even I know that. So--isn't that something you should want to have?" Takashi pursed his lips in that neutral expression he sank into when he knew anything else would come off as fake; better to keep everyone guessing one way or the other than to let them know he was feeling the exact opposite of what his face spoke. He put a bit more speed in his step to slip into the cool front lobby of the theater ahead of Tamaoki, who watched his friend strike up a conversation with a staff member lingering near the door to accept kankeisha. It was kind of cute. Kind of. That Takashi still shied away from any situation in which Tsuchiya-kun might give him a less-than-glowing critique, ostensibly only because he didn't like to appear anything less than an accomplished actor on the same "level" as Tsuchiya-kun himself. Tamaoki knew full well that just as Tsuchiya-kun had no reason to prance and preen and annoy all within earshot when Takashi came within a meter of him, so did Takashi really have no reason to think that Tsuchiya-kun would feel any different about him just because he flubbed a line or wasn't as convincing playing a high-schooler as he used to be. He was also quite certain that no amount of lecturing on this subject would convince Takashi as such, though. In a brief moment of deviousness he considered sending the man an invitation to the senshuuraku performance; at least then there wouldn't be any danger of any wayward comments shaking up Takashi for the rest of the performance run (then again, any helpful comments would be of no use by that point, alas). The urge passed in a flash, though, as his conscience raged silently, reminding him that not only could Takashi's confidence be shattered the moment he stepped out onto the stage and spotted that huge forehead glaring from the rear of the tiny Sasazuka theater, but he really had no business directly going against Takashi's wishes and inducing a potential fight between the pair that could have repercussions in unexpected places. Tsuchiya-kun annoyed him often, pushed his buttons at times, but he never would put himself in any position to come between them. His job was not to police his client's relationships, in so many words--it was simply to ensure that the relationships never interfered with Takashi's performance. If this was how they chose to handle this aspect of their lives, so be it. After all: it meant he got a free ticket and treated drinks at the uchiage afterwards. |
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