date posted: 2023-09-08
summary: Living the stage, living a lie.
word count: 1,981 words
notes: yukishima idol au. half-assed idol terminology glossary in end notes
first part of a series with no one here wants to fight me like you do
The boredom eventually pushes him to toy with the bracelet Shiemi gave him – a good luck charm for his debut, in her words. He pulls at the elastic a little, twists it, but is worried enough about snapping it that he’s still careful, despite his restlessness.
He was meticulous in memorizing the lyrics and the choreography, but especially the latter, given how closely their choreography can be scrutinized by fans and management alike. Rin had advised him, even before the audition, that the lyrics matter less, as they’re usually lip syncing. Somehow, it took until then for Yukio to realize that most idols lip sync – another thing he let fool him.
It’s funny, he realizes, how he’s found himself involved in such a deceptive and underhanded industry, as much as he believes in doing the right thing. Months after the fact and he still doesn’t know how to reconcile his current line of work with himself.
Yukio’s ripped out of his thoughts by the sound of the dressing room door slamming open and closed, Shima waltzing in with a bounce in his step, running a hand through his hair. He had dyed it pink on impulse, according to him, and it’s made his wota even crazier over him.
Yukio would argue that anything Shima did would make the wota crazy, but Shima swears it was the hair and the headlines it made that’s had his fans all excited lately. Yukio can attest to this, seeing the wild pink penlights bleeding into his eyes at their last live, almost overwhelming the other penlight colors.
Rin said it was nothing to care about, that popularity fluctuates, but Yukio couldn’t help but feel a pang of frustration in his chest at the ocean of pink in the audience that night, all the Shima-themed uchiwa everywhere he looked.
Shima says something about him showing up to bring Yukio to the dance practice for their new single, and that’s all that Yukio let himself gather before he stopped listening to Shima’s drivel, the ways he blabbered on about nothing.
Impulse. What a joke. Shima knew exactly what he was doing by dyeing his hair his member color.
He opens the door to a bunch of gravure mags scattered about the floor and Shima’s shit-eating grin from where he sat on his couch.
“What’s this about?” he says, forcing himself to sound casual rather than frustrated. It was always a careful line he had to balance, being collected and friendly, versus the (irrational?) frustration that always threatened to boil over for him.
Shima’s grin only widens. It’s almost like a slasher smile, Yukio thinks.
“It’s your first shoot! You gotta learn how to pose like the pros. I can help you out?” he says, punctuating it with a wink, like the bastard he is. Yukio sighs.
“So this is what you called me for. Not an emergency or a scandal about to break.” he grumbles, the frustration slipping out beyond his control.
Shima only shrugs, leaning back on the couch more, his hands propped on both sides of the cushion. “I mean, I wasn’t totally lying about the scandal part, but that’s less important. I do want to help with your first gravure shoot, you’ve gotta look hot for the wota or rumors’ll spread,” he trails off.
Yukio doesn’t know where to start with that, what to unpack first. He decides to redirect away from himself, since Shima at least gave him the out.
“What do you mean by scandal? What’d you get yourself into?” he says, partially alarmed, and partially unsurprised, given Shima’s behavior over the past couple of months, all his reckless Instagram livestreams while buzzed, photos of him at supposedly dry parties with idols from other groups. Yukio saw the female idols in there. He won’t be surprised if that’s where this is going.
Shima shrugs, again. He’s so careless. Yukio can’t ever wrap his head around it.
“Eh. I took too many pics at a party last night while drunk and may have sent them to a handful of people. I didn’t do anything there, no fucking, I was just drunk out of my mind. Y’know, don’t want an Acchan type of situation,” he finishes, winking. Yukio doesn’t catch the reference, but guesses it was something bad.
Yukio fails to see the severity of the situation. “This doesn’t sound like much of a scandal in the making. You got drunk at a party, you’ve done that before,” he says. The most the tabloids could get from this are dating rumors if girls were identified in the pictures, but even then, unless he was making out with them, it’d be a stretch.
He looks back at Shima, who’s leaned his head on the couch, hands under his head, all relaxed. Shima looks to him, meeting eyes, and it makes Yukio instinctively look away, as he moves to sit on the couch.
Shima loudly sighs. “Ah, I don’t know. I wanted a reason for you to get here and look at gravure mags with me. Guess I should just make it clear.”
Yukio briefly wonders if he’s being propositioned, then pushes that to the back of his mind, staring at the gravure mags on the floor.
“How do you even have so many of these?” he asks, almost dumbfounded. It’s a mix of female and male gravure idols, but mostly female. Makes sense, with the gender balance in that industry, he supposes.
Shima closes his eyes for a moment, too long for a blink, and sighs, again. Him and the sighing.
“I was fifteen and wanted to be the idols on the stage, duh, but I still wanted to be with them, y’know,” he says, winking, again. Stupid.
Yukio suppresses a long sigh at that. Maybe they both have a sighing disease. Yukio decides Shima infected him with it.
“Ok. Show me how to pose, and then we’re done.” He says, regrettably.
Inevitably, Yukio’s words result in him in front of a mirror, shirt off, with Shima’s arms all over him, rearranging him like a fucking doll. Maybe an action figure. Either way, he feels ridiculous.
“I look ridiculous,” he says, less to Shima and more to himself. He’s posing with his arms up and behind his head, hands resting on the back of his head. Shima says it’s supposed to make his abs stand out. Yukio thinks it’s embarrassing, but he’d rather die than say that out loud.
“You’re going to feel ridiculous. Embarrassed, even–“ and that has Yukio sighing “– but, it builds character, practicing like this. You’ll be prepared when you go to the shoot! You won’t need as much direction from the photographers! They’ll think you’re a pro,” Shima says, almost proud of himself.
Yukio closes his eyes for a moment, then drops his arms. “I’m not a pro. I’ll just go to the shoot and get it over with. That’ll make the fans happy,” he says, the last bit slipping out a little quieter.
Shima tilts his head at him, looking… almost confused? He always looks so sure of himself.
“That makes sense,” Shima says, like something clicked in his head. Yukio hates it when he sounds like that, like he understands Yukio better than Yukio himself. He thinks he has Yukio all figured out, the asshole. He knows nothing. Yukio’s only in this for Rin, and like hell will he tell that to anyone.
But if Shima’s already figured that out, then he has even less to himself. Less privacy, less control. It’s frustrating how he thinks he has himself guarded as much as possible, and then someone looks at him like they see right through him.
He’s nothing more than a house of cards. He knows this. He doesn’t want anyone to start poking at the cards. Someone already started.
Yukio feels that familiar rage boiling in him, almost tightens a fist to force it down. He doesn’t want Shima to see that, though, so he just grits his teeth, breathes out through his nose, closes his eyes briefly.
“What do you mean by that?” Yukio says, as stony and blank as possible. He can’t appear as anything in front of someone like Shima. Not weak, not happy, only fake. It’s all he’s good at, he thinks, when he’s at a handshake event and smiling and talking to fans. It’s that and apathy that he allows for himself. Fake and apathetic.
Shima sighs and shrugs. Yukio tenses, waiting for his answer.
“I don’t know, you’re just… so pent up. You’ve always seemed not super dedicated to the whole idol thing, you know?” He starts. Yukio knows what he’s getting at.
“So what if I’m not? It’s a job.”
“That you’re doing for someone else.” Shima says, words cutting.
Yukio wants to strangle him, suddenly, frustrated and angry that Shima knows, but he realizes that he’s not slick. He’s obvious. Maybe everyone in the group and in management knows that he’s only doing this for Rin, that his heart isn’t in it. Maybe Rin will realize this and start prodding at him again, asking are you ok? with that stupid worried tone of his. This is Rin’s dream, he’s doing this for Fujimoto, who’s gone, has been gone, and Yukio never really processed that, did he? But he doesn’t need to, because he’s fine, things are stable, and he has a well-paying job, and a photoshoot to do tomorrow to get paid again.
He turns around, abruptly, knowing Shima is staring at him. He throws on his shirt, walks into Shima’s living room. Shima follows him.
“I’m done for today,” he says, but it comes out harsh.
“Wait,” Shima says, but Yukio barely hears him.
Yukio pushes into his sneakers, grabs his jacket, feels for his keys in his pocket. He turns to look at Shima, briefly, sees his confused look. He unlocks the door and grabs the doorknob.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says, and barely avoids slamming the door shut behind him.
He and Shima talk at work the next day. Not because Yukio wants to, but because he has to – for the sake of work, for the pre-recorded videos and TikToks and the like, and because if he doesn’t talk to Shima at all, even outside of idol work, then they acknowledge that something happened the night before, and Yukio doesn’t even want to think about it. He’s fine. Things are fine.
Much to his annoyance, Shima refuses to drop it, instead constantly trying to initiate conversation when Rin and the others are out of earshot. Yukio worries about the others getting the idea that they’re becoming friends. There’s nothing wrong with Shima, it’s all him, but he doesn’t want friends in this business. He’s doing it for Rin. That’s all that matters.
They’re preparing for a music show performance later today, pre-recorded and broadcast the next day. They record late at night, so he had time for the gravure shoot earlier in his schedule today. He prepares for that first, avoids drinking water so his abs are more defined. It’s fine, he’s fine, he’ll get it over with.
He ignores Shima’s glances at him as he walks out of the studio that day, after filming several TikToks with the group, the smile dropping from his face like a rock after the cameras were off.
He pretends not to notice Rin’s glances, too.
He goes to the gravure shoot. He poses, hands behind his head, looks how he’s supposed to. He’s dehydrated, but it’s fine. The lights flash and flash. He’s on a beach, shirt off. He lets the water hit his feet and smiles as the cameras go off. It’s normal.
At the end of it, as he dries off, changes into his regular clothes in a trailer, he walks out to see Shima beside the stairs. Yukio freezes.
“Ready for tonight’s filming?” Shima says, smiling.