Work Text:
Slightly hunched against the table, Kenji sat facing his folding mirror. Scattered around it were his pots of paint and painting utensils, ready to be used. The room was quiet, saved for the humming of the vending machine standing in a corner. The other members had already gone to Sasagawa for their make-up and hairstyle session, leaving Kenji to do his on his own, as usual. Only their stuff was dumped disorderly everywhere – on the floor along the walls, on the small leather couch and around the table.
From the mirror, Kenji’s own clean, plain face was staring back at him. His brows were furrowed, like he was cross at himself. He willed them to relax and massaged the area between them vigorously with his fingers. Wrinkles are bad for shironuri.
Kenji closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths and checked the clock on the wall. There was still more than enough time, but he should better start. From his array of brushes he picked up the biggest and dipped it carefully into the white paint pot. Slowly, with well-practised movement, he began to apply the thick paint onto his forehead. Glancing up to his hairline, he made sure that the comb headband was doing its job holding his relatively new ash blonde curls neatly out of the way.
Just like that, Kenji’s mind drifted to when he last went to the hairdresser.
*
It was his first visit to Fiaba, the hair salon that his trusted hairdresser had opened not so long ago. Being his customer for almost ten years, Kenji would follow Matsudo-san anywhere and he was happy he could continue supporting him in his new, own business.
Matsudo-san had just finished bleaching Kenji’s hair. The hairdresser tilted his head as his nimble fingers combed the now blonde, straight strands lightly back.
“Say, Kenji-san, I know we’re going for curls again today, but this style would actually look good on you, too.” He grabbed a hand mirror and showed Kenji the back of his head.
Kenji turned his head left and right, trying to see from different angles. “Hm, I wonder. I’ve had curls for so long now I’d feel completely lost without them.”
“Now that you said it, it’s been quite a while since you’ve had them, right? Your fans would probably be shocked should you suddenly get rid of them.”
“True that. I don’t think I want another drastic image change just yet.”
The hairdresser smiled knowingly, probably remembering all the times Kenji suddenly did decide for a drastic change, like that one time when he shaved his head off, just a few days after getting a new haircut. “Alright, whatever you say,” he said, then stepped away to prepare the next step.
Kenji took his phone and snapped a picture of himself. Grinning gleefully, he posted it on Insta, captioning it with ‘going blonde towards the end of the year’. This was not so much out of mischievousness, but rather out of curiosity as to how the fans would react to the discrepancy between what he posted and how he would actually look like in the end.
He had just hit the publish button as he heard a cheerful voice coming from around the corner.
“Eeh, Kenji-san, no way! Are you guys going for a partner look?”
It was one of the young female hairdressers who had also worked at the previous hair salon – the one with the pink, pixie haircut, whose name for some reason always escaped Kenji’s memory. Apparently Matsudo-san had recruited her to join his new place. She approached Kenji with steps too big for her short legs.
“What do you mean, partner look?” asked Kenji back, not with little suspicion.
The girl beamed as she fished her phone from her baggy pants’ pocket. Her blunt nails made no sounds as she tapped and scrolled, and after a few moments, she showed him a picture. Kenji’s eyes widened.
“See? Just the colour is different!”
Kenji swallowed. “Well, not really. You see, in the first place, his hair type is completely different from mine, and he has bangs…and, and where did you get this picture anyway?” He ended his sentence with an incredulous note.
The hairdresser grinned meaningfully. “A good friend of mine is the one who did his hair! But since nobody knows yet…” She placed her index finger in front of her lips.
She smiled as Kenji nodded obediently, then pursed her lips as she glanced back and forth between him and the picture on her phone. “Hm, isn’t it just a matter of styling? Your hair is long enough to have bangs. It still could pass as a partner look. Besides–”
“No, actually,” Kenji cut her off, “it’s just a coincidence. I’m sorry to disappoint you, but there was no plan for a partner look or anything. This is the first time I’ve seen him in that cut.”
The girl’s shoulders dropped. “Awww, really?”
“Really really. This hairstyle is not even finished yet, it’s just a temporary stage. Right, Matsudo-san?” Kenji addressed the last part to his hairdresser, who was walking back towards them with a stack of aluminium foil sheets in his hands.
Matsudo-san gestured at the girl with his chin. “Asami-chan, stop bothering Kenji-san and go back to your own work, will you? Your next customer will be here soon.” His tone was friendly, but there was no mistaking the message.
Asami shrugged and shoved her phone back into her pocket. “Oh well, too bad. I thought if you two were starting to have a partner look, Kiryuuin-san and Kyan-san might soon follow, too, and then you guys would have a band look! Wouldn’t that be awesome?” She wiggled her eyebrows.
“Asami.” Matsudo-san’s voice had now slightly dropped into a mild warning.
“Okay okay, I’m going already. It’s nice seeing you again, Kenji-san! Sorry for the intrusion!”
The girl bowed and left the two men staring at her small figure retreating into the reception area.
Matsudo-san cleared his throat. “Sorry about that,” he said rather apologetically.
“Nah, it’s fine.” Kenji waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. Still, he avoided his hairdresser’s eyes, unsure of how much he had heard the conversation.
For some time Matsudo-san worked in silence. At one point he opened his mouth and said, “You know what, Kenji-san?”
Kenji lifted his head and met the other guy’s eyes through the mirror. They were gazing at him with a gentle expression. There was no trace of judgement, nor anything that would make him feel uncomfortable.
“In my personal opinion, curls suit you better anyway.”
The words seemed to melt the tension on Kenji’s shoulders and his lips curled up into a relieved smile.
“They do, don’t they.”
*
The face staring back at him was now completely white. In that state, before the colour details were added, it always looked a little eerie – a little too blank, free of any expressions and absolutely unreadable.
Kenji picked up his smallest brush and started painting the little marks on the corners of his mouth. He did them just a tiny bit more upslanted than usual. Next, he painted the black area around his eyes. He elongated the bottom lines just slightly upward. Both of his eyes done, Kenji tried smiling. The difference is minuscule but hey, anything would help.
He dropped the smile and sighed. It was just a harmless visual effect, he told himself. It was no different than when Sasagawa-san applied a thick concealer to hide Kiryuuin-san’s dark circles. There was nothing wrong with that.
Shaking his head, Kenji placed both his hands on the table and rolled his shoulders back a couple of times. Then he interlaced his fingers in front of his chest and raised his arms up for a stretch. Arms back down, he stared hard at his own reflection in the mirror and nodded.
“Yosh.”
With that, he picked up his final brush and dipped it into the red paint pot.
As he was gliding the brush across his left cheek someone knocked on the door. He threw a glance at the clock. He knew he still had plenty of time, so who could it be? Everyone knew that he wasn’t fond of being disturbed during his preparation.
“Yes?” He answered half-heartedly and immediately regretted his decision as he saw the head that peered in.
“Do you have a minute, Kenji-san?”
Jun walked in cautiously, like he was afraid of waking up a sleeping lion, and stopped a few steps behind Kenji’s chair. In his hands was a folded piece of paper.
"What do you want?" asked Kenji, almost wincing as he realised his tone was colder than he had intended. His mind was telling him to turn around, but his body kept facing the mirror rigidly. He continued painting his face and waited.
Jun took one tentative step closer. “I’ve written my apology to the fans.” The paper rustled as he unfolded it in his hands. “The agency already gave their okay, but I’d like to hear your opinion, too, Kenji-san.”
Kenji put down his brush. He regarded his fellow band member through the mirror. “I’m sure you wrote it beautifully. If the agency agreed on it then you’ll be fine. Besides,” he jerked his head towards the paper’s reflection, “that looks like a lot to read.”
“I could read it out to you,” Jun offered in a meeker voice, but Kenji shook his head.
“That’s very kind, but I don’t think I’m the right person to give you an opinion. You know I’m not the brightest.”
Hearing this, Jun approached the other guy hastily and slammed the paper onto the table.
“Kenji!” he raised his voice, suddenly dropping all honorifics. “Come on, don’t be like this! That’s not true, and besides, that has nothing to do with this! I just wanted to know whether it sounds genuine, because it is, but I’m still worried whether the fans would get it and it would really help me if you’d tell me what you think about it, okay? Come on, you’re my best friend!” He ended his plea with a desperate note.
Kenji finally turned to face the other guy and looked him in the eyes. “As your best friend, I gave you my opinion already,” he said calmly. “You didn’t want it then, why should you want it now?”
“That was different! It was decided by the agency–”
“It was an option given by the agency,” Kenji corrected him. “Either you apologise to all our fans around the world, or just to our trusted fans within Marukin. It was you who chose the latter, despite everything I said.” Jun opened his mouth to protest but Kenji continued, “So if you want an opinion now, you’d better ask someone else.”
“Kenji,” Jun started, his voice quivered, “the other option comes with a huge risk. I was just thinking of what’s best for our band.”
“Really,” Kenji said flatly, “to me it seems more like you don’t have enough faith in our fans.”
Jun fell quiet after that last remark, as if confirming what his friend had just said and destroying Kenji’s last hope of ever seeing him in a better light again. After a while he said in a small voice, “I’m…I’m scared.”
Kenji’s facial expression didn’t change as he said, “We all are.”
Jun’s lips began to tremble and his eyes welled up with tears, but Kenji only silently stared back at him. Finally he sighed and hung his head, letting his black strands cover his face.
“Fine,” he said, “I’ll go ask Kiryuuin-san.”
He grabbed the paper and left the room without so much as a glance back to the other guy.
Kenji turned back to the mirror, holding in the urge to curse out loud. He took a couple of deep breaths, waiting for his hand to stop shaking. It still had work to do – there were still a few red lines to be drawn. Steeling his mind, he picked up the brush again.
Just as he was finished with the last stroke, someone knocked on his door again.
“Go away,” he answered automatically, then scolded himself inwardly as it occurred to him that this time it might have been one of the stage staff. He turned and stood up to utter an apology as the door opened revealing Kyan standing in its frame. Kenji sank back to the chair and dropped his elbows to his knees. “Oh, it’s only you.”
“Oi, what the hell is that supposed to mean?” Kyan protested as he sauntered into the room. “Here I am, going out of my way to check whether you’re ready, and this is the greeting that I got?”
When Kenji didn’t say anything and just stared at him with a blank expression he approached him cautiously and peered into his face. “Did something happen?”
For a while Kenji just kept looking up at him. Then he closed his eyes and shook his head. “Nothing. Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at you.”
“Well, to be fair, you didn’t know it was me,” Kyan said, keeping his tone light.
Kenji chuckled humourlessly. “No, I didn’t”.
“Were you expecting someone else?”
Kenji shook his head again. “Nah. I wasn’t expecting anyone, I just wanted to be left alone.”
Kyan took the seat next to him. “Well, you’ve picked the worst day to be left alone.”
Kenji barked a laugh. It didn’t sound cynical, just resigned. “I really did, huh.”
Moments passed as they sat still beside each other. It was Kyan who broke the silence. “Was it Jun?”
Kenji let out a self-deprecated chuckle. “When was it not?”
Kyan made a face. “What did he do this time? I thought you guys were back on good terms? At least you were when we shot those clips?”
“We were. But I didn’t know it back then.”
Between his knees, Kenji’s fingers curled into tight fists. Kyan waited patiently for him to string together the words in his head.
“I thought I was over it. I was ready to forgive him. At least I thought I was. But this…this selective apology doesn’t sit right with me. It’s not right, Kyan-san.”
Suddenly confronted with Kenji’s forlorn face, Kyan averted his eyes. He lifted a hand to scratch his head but lowered it back, as he remembered that his hair was already set. “I know,” he said in an attempt to help, “but it’s going to be alright. There are enough fans out there who are missing him and would be very happy to have him back. They’ll surely forgive him.”
“What about the others? And those outside the fan club?”
Kyan opened and closed his mouth fruitlessly.
Kenji continued, “You were also against this, right? I don’t understand how we could go out there today, smiling at them, pretending everything is alright again.” He shook his head for the umpteenth time that evening. “I don’t think I can do this.”
Kyan placed his hands on Kenji’s shoulders and gave them a squeeze. “Hey, trust me, it will be alright. While this isn’t the best decision in our opinion, our agency must have thought it through. Why else would they have let him go on with that choice?”
Kenji looked at him straight in the eyes and lifted an eyebrow.
“Okay, okay,” Kyan slid his palms down Kenji’s arms and took hold of his hands, carefully unfurling the clenched fists. “To be honest, I’m not sure about this myself, but it’s been decided, so there’s nothing we can do but make the best out of it. Besides, we get to make fun of him even more than usual, isn’t that great?”
Kenji’s eyes fell on the smaller hands, whose thumbs were soothingly caressing the back of his own hands. The rhythmical sensation slowly brought his heartbeat back to normal.
“Kenji?”
The soft call of his name steered his gaze up to those big, heavily eye-shadowed eyes, that were looking intently at him. Then it travelled down to the small button nose and to the plump, moist lips underneath. For a split second Kenji was overwhelmed by the urge to kiss them. He took a sharp intake of breath and pulled his hands back.
“Right,” he said rather shakily, as he stood up and started to collect his utensils. “Nothing to do but make the best out of it.”
In his haste to hide his own unease he missed the slightly hurt look on Kyan’s face.
“Do you feel better now?”
Kenji leaned heavily with both hands on the table, still not daring to look at the other guy. “No,” he said, then took a peek over his shoulder. “But I will soon. Thanks, Kyan-san.”
“Don’t mention it,” said Kyan lightly, before giving Kenji a hard slap on his butt. “Now go get changed. It’s almost time. We’ll wait for you backstage.”
*
The whole hall was still as Jun started his apology. Kenji sat uncomfortably behind his drum set. He busied himself with taking off his suit’s jacket and repeatedly taking sips of water, all the time hoping that none of the cameras would catch him trying his very best not to look at the bowing bassist.
After what felt like an eternity, Kirisho finally took over and smoothly, albeit a little awkwardly, announced the band’s self-introduction to change the atmosphere. Kenji took his cue, stood up and shouted, “O chin-chi〜n!”
As he heard the audience’s applause, he put on his best smile and said, “Smile, everybody!”
From the corner of his eyes he saw Kyan glancing at him, grinning willfully. He grinned back at him.
He could do this.