There For You
Title: There For You
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Aiba Masaki/Becky
Summary: Aiba hates feeling helpless. He hates when these things happen period, but when they happen to close friends, to people he's known for so long, people he knows to be warm-hearted and honest and kind, he wishes he could have taken their place and saved them the pain of it.
Notes/Warnings: For the Arashi Anon Kink Meme, August 2011. What's funny (to me at least) is that *I* was the one who requested Aiba/Becky hurt/comfort and then ended up writing it myself - and I just couldn't get it to porn. But I think it's better this way. What do you think?
It's been all over the news for days. A handshake event, something people in their line of work did all the time. There probably wouldn't be any handshake events for months to come, not now. Not after what the guy did to her.
Aiba hates feeling helpless. He hates when these things happen period, but when they happen to close friends, to people he's known for so long, people he knows to be warm-hearted and honest and kind, he wishes he could have taken their place and saved them the pain of it.
Everyone from the entertainment world to politicians to the media have commented, condemning in turn security, the staff at the music store, the inability of anyone to have reported the guy's messages on his blog. The blame game comes a little too late for Becky, who's still in the hospital. It's her life that will never be the same again. She'll never be as open, she'll never be as trusting again, and that's maybe what Aiba hates the most. They've taken his Becky away and left someone different in her place.
Aiba also despises himself for only just realizing that Becky has now become "his Becky" in his mind, and it's taken this long to realize it.
It's late, and he's pulling up in the parking garage beneath his building. The last person he expects to meet by the elevator banks is her. She's dressed down (at least from her usual cute clothes) in a hoodie and jeans, and her eyes have dark circles under them. He nearly drops his bag.
"Becky-chan," he murmurs, looking around the empty garage to make sure there aren't any sneaky photographers or fellow residents wandering around. "Aren't you supposed to be in the hospital?"
"They released me," she says, and her voice doesn't sound like Becky-voice. It sounds hollow, empty. It doesn't sound right at all. She's only been to his building once or twice before and never privately - only for a meal with other members and staff from Shimura Zoo.
He pushes the button to go up, wanting to shield her from anyone who might see. Instead he keeps his hands jammed in his pockets. "How long have you been waiting here? Shouldn't you be at home?"
"My parents aren't there," she admits when the doors open. "There's been police and paparazzi outside since it happened. They haven't been able to sleep. They're with friends."
"And you? Shouldn't you be with them?" he says as they step inside, staying at opposite ends of the elevator car as Aiba presses the button for his floor and swipes the resident-only keycard.
Her face is hidden by the hood of her sweatshirt. It's pale pink with drooping little cat ears on top. Her large bag seems to dwarf her as it hangs limply from her arm. "I told them I needed to talk to someone tonight. A friend."
Aiba thinks she has to have dozens of friends to turn to before him. He doesn't say anything to that effect though. If she needs to talk, then by all means, he's going to let her talk.
"I'm not inconveniencing you, am I?"
The elevator chimes with their arrival, and he follows her out into the hall. She walks at his side, keeping pace with him. "It's fine," he says. He's been having trouble sleeping anyhow, so it's not like she'll be interrupting anything by coming inside.
They enter the apartment. She slips off her sandals, he his sneakers, and he turns on the light in the hall. "I haven't had much time to clean, I'm really sorry."
She's got her phone out of her bag as she shuffles along in her socks. Aiba hurries along to clean up a few bottles from his table in the living room, thankful that he'd at least remembered to clean the bathroom thoroughly the other day. By the time he returns from leaving his bag in his bedroom, she's finishing up her phone call. From the sound of it, she'd had an escort over from the hospital, and she was telling her manager to send them away.
"They...they don't know you're here to see...me, do they?" he asks hesitantly. He knows it's not a really unreasonable question, given who he is, but he still feels guilty for asking.
She shakes her head. "He thinks Ueto Aya-chan lives here, don't worry."
He doesn't know what to do, gesturing sheepishly to his couch. "Can I get you something? Tea? Juice? Coffee?"
"Water," she says simply, looking so small. Of course, Becky's never been big, and he's known her for several years, but what she's always lacked in height she's made up for with her smile and energy. He's always adored that about her, but it's not like he sees her in private all the time.
He gives friends tap water, but he figures that this is different, and he brings her a bottle. She sits on the couch, and he sits on the floor in front of his table. When a long silence follows and she doesn't touch the bottle, he stretches and grabs the remote control, turning on the TV for some background noise. Thankfully it's not a news broadcast reminding her of the attack, but some rebroadcast of an old NHK drama. Safe territory.
He's not sure what to do. He's usually one of the last people that his friends turn to for advice or talking and all that. Aiba isn't entirely sure why. He's just as good a listener as anyone else. Sure, he might not have Sho-chan's quick logic or Nino's ability to always know the right thing to say, but he's compassionate. He thinks.
"Aiba-kun?"
She's watching him curiously, and he has a hard time looking into her eyes. "Yeah?"
"I came here because you're funny. And because you say strange things. I need you for that."
He stares back. "What?"
"Everyone's been so serious and concerned about me the past few days. I was hoping to have a break from that," she admits.
"I can be serious and concerned," he reminds her, offended.
And that's when she finally laughs, and he sees a bit of the Becky smile he's used to. "I know. Aiba-kun, I know. But just...be you."
"You know, a lot of what I do at work is called..." He pauses for dramatic effect. "Acting."
She curls up on the couch, hugging her knees against her chest. "I'm feeling better already."
He can see her hand sticking out from the sleeve of her hooded sweatshirt, can see the beginning of the bandaging that he knows goes from her wrist to her elbow where the psychotic fan had stabbed at her before getting taken down by security. "Besides," he whispers, "I was just as worried as everyone else."
"But I'm fine," she assures him even though her voice shakes a bit. "I'm fine. It could have been worse, and I'm fine."
She's trying so hard to convince herself. He can just tell by the tight grip she has on her legs, by the almost desperate way she tries to reassure him when he thinks it's perfectly alright for her to still be hurting. It's only been a few days since it happened, after all.
He gets up, sitting beside her on the couch, crossing his arms. "Okay then. You want me to say strange things. Give me a topic."
She leans back against the cushion, tugging her sleeve down to hide the bandage from his sight. "You've gone to some interesting places lately. Tell me about them."
So he obediently launches into stories about his trip to Bhutan, about cultural differences and picking up presents for the other members, and she seems to visibly relax. But he is immediately alarmed when she leans closer and rests her head against his shoulder.
He stops mid-story. "Becky?"
She lowers the kitty-ear hood on her sweatshirt to stare up at him. "It's a bit dramatic to say what happened to me made me think about what I really want. Maybe I've watched too many dramas and movies and things, but Aiba-kun, I've been cooped up in the hospital, and they want me to have a press conference to say that I'm fine and they want me to be this...figurehead for something I don't understand."
"Becky," he tries again, but she presses her fingers to his mouth. Her fingernails are purple with tiny white dots.
As soon as she realizes what she's done she pulls her hand back. "I'm sorry, I just...I want to say these things. I want to be here, listening to you talk about Bhutan and I want to go home and see my dog. I just want to go back in time and be able to shake everyone's hands at that event since they took the time to come and see me. I don't want to be the person they're going to try and make me, Aiba-kun."
It hurts to see the tears pooling in her eyes, to see how tired she is.
"They want to make me the girl who got hurt, and they want to parade me around for it. They want to say 'Becky, the girl who was stabbed, look how well she's recovered.' I can't just be Becky anymore, can I? They're not going to let me, are they?"
He doesn't know what to do aside from wrapping an arm around her thin shoulders to let her cry. She came to him to feel happy. She came to him for reassurance, and now she's falling apart beside him. He still isn't sure why she came to him of all people. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he murmurs. When girls cry, Aiba definitely goes into panic mode. He has to get her to stop. Maybe he could try winking. Maybe he could try his hand at drawing her again. Maybe he could call Nino and ask him what he's supposed to do when things just can't be fixed with the power of his own brain.
"Hey," he says, "hey, let me tell you about the time I went to South Africa, I'm sure there's something you don't know about that trip..."
She grabs hold of his face, pulling him down to her, but she can't go the final step. His eyes cross as he's suddenly way closer than he's ever been to her over these eight years they've worked together. Her eyes are shut tight. "Maybe," she mumbles, "maybe if I do what they say, become what they say, I can still be me somehow. There can be two Becky's. The Becky for them, and the Becky when it's just me. And Aiba-kun, I...I...don't know how to say these things, I never say these things..."
He licks his lips, concerned for her and at the same time wanting her. His Becky, the one he cherishes and has cherished all this time without realizing it. He still tries to lean away. The timing is all wrong, and this isn't like her. "I like you," he admits, "but I don't think now..."
"Why not now?" she asks him. "Why not now when I can finally admit what I want? They're going to take everything else away, and I'll smile because that's what I do. That's what we do, good and bad, isn't it? We have to smile and bear with it because people need us for that. I'm not the only person who's ever been hurt or stalked, so I have to smile and tell people everything's going to be okay."
Aiba understands, he definitely does. There's very little switching off that they can do as entertainers, sides of themselves they have to keep at home, and even though he hasn't been through the whirlwind type of week she has, he truly understands her. "I don't want you to be hurting, but I don't want you to do something you're not ready for."
"I only want you to kiss me," she complains, letting him go. "I've gotten sympathy from some, worry from others, and 'the show must go on' from everybody else. I've liked you for so long, and I'm getting older, and I can't keep ignoring it. Especially not now if I have to become something that's not really me, someone who should be pitied. I want to have something that's not fabricated or dramatized. I want your stupid stories, and the way you always tease me and let me tease you back. I don't need it to be special or magical, Aiba-kun, I just need it to be real."
He interrupts her by giving her what she wants, finding her soft lips and getting the first taste of her. He shouldn't, he shouldn't, he shouldn't, he realizes as soon as she parts her lips to let him deepen the kiss. There are probably alarm bells and warning sirens and Nino calling him "Idiot!" signals going off because she's vulnerable and confused and hurt, and in the long run, he's not helping. He was just supposed to listen!
But her lip gloss tastes like apple juice, and her skin is warm to the touch. It's the first kiss of a type he shares with a cabaret girl here and there when he's had a few drinks, not the kind he should be sharing with a co-worker he's only just admitted to liking. Becky is cute and sweet and lovely, and she deserves better than a sloppy show of things, but he finds that he can't stop. Because it's Becky, his Becky, and maybe this is his way of protecting her, of letting her still be herself.
She could have pushed him away by now, but instead she leans back and tugs him along, her body stretching out against his couch cushions as he lands on top of her. It's only kissing, trying to balance over her without crushing her as she wraps her arms around his neck. He finally stops, kissing the corner of her mouth as she opens her eyes to look up at him, her long dark hair fanned out against the light cushion.
Her cheeks are pink, and her eyes are still tired, but there's a warmth to her expression that hadn't been there when she'd first arrived. He uncomfortably realizes that a few minutes of kissing was more than enough to pique his interest, and he tries to move off of her before she notices, but she won't let go.
She's a little embarrassed, nervous even, but she shakes her head. "Don't go." She parts her legs, allowing him to rest more comfortably between them, and he tries to slow his body down, planting gentle, short kisses against her cheeks, her nose, all the things he's seen for the past eight years but never really paid such close attention to. Her skin is soft, and though there are a few track marks on her cheeks from crying, he's doing his best so she doesn't have to cry again, at least not tonight.
He loves the feeling of her underneath him, the way their bodies seem to perfectly align. Her hair is soft in his rough fingertips, her lips swollen from his kisses as he brings his fingers to them. He takes his time to explore and discover Becky up close.
But then she arches against him slightly as she bends her legs at the knee on either side of him, most likely just to get comfortable, and he shuts his eyes tight as all his blood starts on a race south. "Oh, don't do that again," he mumbles.
She laughs. "It's flattering, if you don't think me crude for saying so." She finally gains the courage to kiss him first, lifting her lips to meet his slowly, her fingers at the nape of his neck and tangling in the lightened strands of his hair. He sighs when she lifts her hips up again, but this time with intentions. He can't stop his body from reacting in kind, and as they slowly kiss, he rocks gently against her, simulating something he wants but can't do with her. Not yet.
His senses are all on fire, and even with the continuing warning noises sounding off inside his skull, he's making her happy, helping her forget all that's happened this week if only for the minutes they're together, learning one another. He breaks their kiss to move his mouth to her neck, smelling her faint perfume as he brings his lips to her soft skin. It's only when she sighs in pleasure that he forces himself away before it continues down a path they might regret.
He feels a little dizzy, a little giddy as though he was back in middle school and making out with girls for the first time. "That's...that's enough," he decides, scrambling off of her and pretty much hiding at the opposite end of the couch.
She sits up. "Aiba-kun..."
He holds up his hand and shakes his head. "No, no, don't. I'm a guy, you know, and a stupid one, and once I get past a certain stupid threshold I might have trouble slowing down, and you don't deserve to find out the extent of my stupid. Not tonight."
She smiles. "Okay then. But I did tell my manager I was going to stay here. Is that okay?"
His eyes widen. "Oh," he says, fidgeting. Had he even made his bed that morning? "I...well...I..."
She shakes her head. "Oh Aiba-kun, you're probably ridiculously busy. I'm sorry for being so forward and so selfish...I didn't think we'd actually..."
He pinches the bridge of his nose to avoid looking at the cute way she's blushing. "I'm actually off tomorrow."
"Oh?"
"Yeah."
They wait for a few moments, unsure of what happens next now that he has no real reason to turn her away. He gets up. "Did you need to take a bath or anything? Do you have pajamas?"
"No. Yes."
"Fine," he says, pacing back and forth. Now his Head-Nino is definitely telling him to SEND. HER. HOME. but he's finding it impossible to listen as Becky gets off the couch and picks up her bag. "Fine, you can, uh, you can use the bathroom...to wash up and all that and brush your teeth. Right. A sleepover! I've been on TV in my pajamas before, nothing you haven't seen, right? Ha!" he laughs awkwardly. Yeah, he's lucky if he wears underwear to bed half the time...
"Thank you, Aiba-kun," she says gently, heading down the hallway toward his bathroom.
"I...I'll sleep on the couch then..."
"I'm the one who invited myself over!" she shouts back over her shoulder before going into the bathroom and closing the door.
Aiba's panic rises. Thoughts of paparazzi and scandal and scandal paparazzi and Matsujun beating him with something and more paparazzi flood through his head as he stumbles around his apartment, picking up a ton of underwear off of his bedroom floor and hurriedly changing the sheets on the bed since they were far beyond the "needing to be laundered" category. He just has to remind himself that even though they'd spent a ridiculously amazing few minutes on his couch, he's still just supposed to be supportive, right? He's not supposed to take advantage.
And thankfully for every part of him below the belly button, she comes out of the bathroom in flannel pajamas rather than some slinky negligee. Not that Aiba thinks someone like Becky would even own a slinky negligee. But then he's trapped with the thought of Becky in a slinky negligee, and she has to clap her hands at him to get his attention.
"Aiba-kun," she says. "I'm going to try and sleep."
He gestures to the bed. "Go ahead. I changed the sheets."
She looks embarrassed. "I couldn't. I've..."
He points to the bed more firmly this time. "Becky."
She nods, setting her bag down on the bedroom floor to get under the covers. Satisfied with that, Aiba washes up himself, changing into a t-shirt and shorts for the night. When he opens the bathroom door, Becky's standing there.
"Stay with me."
He shakes his head. "You know we can't..."
"I didn't say sleep with me," she mutters. "I said stay with me. You've been everything I've needed tonight. Let me be rude for a little longer?" She takes his hands in her own, and the bandage on her wrist is poking out of her pajama top sleeve. "Please?"
In the morning, they'll have to go back to what's expected. She'll have to go to her parents, meet with her management, plan what's next. Tonight might be the last time in a long time he'll have her so close, and it might be the last time in a long time that Becky will get to be who she really wants to be.
She tugs him along through his darkened bedroom to the bed, and for the first few minutes they both lie on their backs, side by side, waiting for the other to do something. Aiba had spent most of the week sad and upset for what had happened to her, and in the course of just an evening, now she's right within reach.
She seems to turn instinctually to her side, facing away from him at the same time he's approaching, laying behind her and wrapping an arm around her middle to keep her close. He can smell her hair, her perfume, and he knows that so long as she's here with him, she's safe, and it makes him breathe easier.
Things will be different in the morning, but for now, they're not on TV, they're not playing roles. He presses a kiss to the top of her head and smiles.
"Good night."
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Aiba Masaki/Becky
Summary: Aiba hates feeling helpless. He hates when these things happen period, but when they happen to close friends, to people he's known for so long, people he knows to be warm-hearted and honest and kind, he wishes he could have taken their place and saved them the pain of it.
Notes/Warnings: For the Arashi Anon Kink Meme, August 2011. What's funny (to me at least) is that *I* was the one who requested Aiba/Becky hurt/comfort and then ended up writing it myself - and I just couldn't get it to porn. But I think it's better this way. What do you think?
It's been all over the news for days. A handshake event, something people in their line of work did all the time. There probably wouldn't be any handshake events for months to come, not now. Not after what the guy did to her.
Aiba hates feeling helpless. He hates when these things happen period, but when they happen to close friends, to people he's known for so long, people he knows to be warm-hearted and honest and kind, he wishes he could have taken their place and saved them the pain of it.
Everyone from the entertainment world to politicians to the media have commented, condemning in turn security, the staff at the music store, the inability of anyone to have reported the guy's messages on his blog. The blame game comes a little too late for Becky, who's still in the hospital. It's her life that will never be the same again. She'll never be as open, she'll never be as trusting again, and that's maybe what Aiba hates the most. They've taken his Becky away and left someone different in her place.
Aiba also despises himself for only just realizing that Becky has now become "his Becky" in his mind, and it's taken this long to realize it.
It's late, and he's pulling up in the parking garage beneath his building. The last person he expects to meet by the elevator banks is her. She's dressed down (at least from her usual cute clothes) in a hoodie and jeans, and her eyes have dark circles under them. He nearly drops his bag.
"Becky-chan," he murmurs, looking around the empty garage to make sure there aren't any sneaky photographers or fellow residents wandering around. "Aren't you supposed to be in the hospital?"
"They released me," she says, and her voice doesn't sound like Becky-voice. It sounds hollow, empty. It doesn't sound right at all. She's only been to his building once or twice before and never privately - only for a meal with other members and staff from Shimura Zoo.
He pushes the button to go up, wanting to shield her from anyone who might see. Instead he keeps his hands jammed in his pockets. "How long have you been waiting here? Shouldn't you be at home?"
"My parents aren't there," she admits when the doors open. "There's been police and paparazzi outside since it happened. They haven't been able to sleep. They're with friends."
"And you? Shouldn't you be with them?" he says as they step inside, staying at opposite ends of the elevator car as Aiba presses the button for his floor and swipes the resident-only keycard.
Her face is hidden by the hood of her sweatshirt. It's pale pink with drooping little cat ears on top. Her large bag seems to dwarf her as it hangs limply from her arm. "I told them I needed to talk to someone tonight. A friend."
Aiba thinks she has to have dozens of friends to turn to before him. He doesn't say anything to that effect though. If she needs to talk, then by all means, he's going to let her talk.
"I'm not inconveniencing you, am I?"
The elevator chimes with their arrival, and he follows her out into the hall. She walks at his side, keeping pace with him. "It's fine," he says. He's been having trouble sleeping anyhow, so it's not like she'll be interrupting anything by coming inside.
They enter the apartment. She slips off her sandals, he his sneakers, and he turns on the light in the hall. "I haven't had much time to clean, I'm really sorry."
She's got her phone out of her bag as she shuffles along in her socks. Aiba hurries along to clean up a few bottles from his table in the living room, thankful that he'd at least remembered to clean the bathroom thoroughly the other day. By the time he returns from leaving his bag in his bedroom, she's finishing up her phone call. From the sound of it, she'd had an escort over from the hospital, and she was telling her manager to send them away.
"They...they don't know you're here to see...me, do they?" he asks hesitantly. He knows it's not a really unreasonable question, given who he is, but he still feels guilty for asking.
She shakes her head. "He thinks Ueto Aya-chan lives here, don't worry."
He doesn't know what to do, gesturing sheepishly to his couch. "Can I get you something? Tea? Juice? Coffee?"
"Water," she says simply, looking so small. Of course, Becky's never been big, and he's known her for several years, but what she's always lacked in height she's made up for with her smile and energy. He's always adored that about her, but it's not like he sees her in private all the time.
He gives friends tap water, but he figures that this is different, and he brings her a bottle. She sits on the couch, and he sits on the floor in front of his table. When a long silence follows and she doesn't touch the bottle, he stretches and grabs the remote control, turning on the TV for some background noise. Thankfully it's not a news broadcast reminding her of the attack, but some rebroadcast of an old NHK drama. Safe territory.
He's not sure what to do. He's usually one of the last people that his friends turn to for advice or talking and all that. Aiba isn't entirely sure why. He's just as good a listener as anyone else. Sure, he might not have Sho-chan's quick logic or Nino's ability to always know the right thing to say, but he's compassionate. He thinks.
"Aiba-kun?"
She's watching him curiously, and he has a hard time looking into her eyes. "Yeah?"
"I came here because you're funny. And because you say strange things. I need you for that."
He stares back. "What?"
"Everyone's been so serious and concerned about me the past few days. I was hoping to have a break from that," she admits.
"I can be serious and concerned," he reminds her, offended.
And that's when she finally laughs, and he sees a bit of the Becky smile he's used to. "I know. Aiba-kun, I know. But just...be you."
"You know, a lot of what I do at work is called..." He pauses for dramatic effect. "Acting."
She curls up on the couch, hugging her knees against her chest. "I'm feeling better already."
He can see her hand sticking out from the sleeve of her hooded sweatshirt, can see the beginning of the bandaging that he knows goes from her wrist to her elbow where the psychotic fan had stabbed at her before getting taken down by security. "Besides," he whispers, "I was just as worried as everyone else."
"But I'm fine," she assures him even though her voice shakes a bit. "I'm fine. It could have been worse, and I'm fine."
She's trying so hard to convince herself. He can just tell by the tight grip she has on her legs, by the almost desperate way she tries to reassure him when he thinks it's perfectly alright for her to still be hurting. It's only been a few days since it happened, after all.
He gets up, sitting beside her on the couch, crossing his arms. "Okay then. You want me to say strange things. Give me a topic."
She leans back against the cushion, tugging her sleeve down to hide the bandage from his sight. "You've gone to some interesting places lately. Tell me about them."
So he obediently launches into stories about his trip to Bhutan, about cultural differences and picking up presents for the other members, and she seems to visibly relax. But he is immediately alarmed when she leans closer and rests her head against his shoulder.
He stops mid-story. "Becky?"
She lowers the kitty-ear hood on her sweatshirt to stare up at him. "It's a bit dramatic to say what happened to me made me think about what I really want. Maybe I've watched too many dramas and movies and things, but Aiba-kun, I've been cooped up in the hospital, and they want me to have a press conference to say that I'm fine and they want me to be this...figurehead for something I don't understand."
"Becky," he tries again, but she presses her fingers to his mouth. Her fingernails are purple with tiny white dots.
As soon as she realizes what she's done she pulls her hand back. "I'm sorry, I just...I want to say these things. I want to be here, listening to you talk about Bhutan and I want to go home and see my dog. I just want to go back in time and be able to shake everyone's hands at that event since they took the time to come and see me. I don't want to be the person they're going to try and make me, Aiba-kun."
It hurts to see the tears pooling in her eyes, to see how tired she is.
"They want to make me the girl who got hurt, and they want to parade me around for it. They want to say 'Becky, the girl who was stabbed, look how well she's recovered.' I can't just be Becky anymore, can I? They're not going to let me, are they?"
He doesn't know what to do aside from wrapping an arm around her thin shoulders to let her cry. She came to him to feel happy. She came to him for reassurance, and now she's falling apart beside him. He still isn't sure why she came to him of all people. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he murmurs. When girls cry, Aiba definitely goes into panic mode. He has to get her to stop. Maybe he could try winking. Maybe he could try his hand at drawing her again. Maybe he could call Nino and ask him what he's supposed to do when things just can't be fixed with the power of his own brain.
"Hey," he says, "hey, let me tell you about the time I went to South Africa, I'm sure there's something you don't know about that trip..."
She grabs hold of his face, pulling him down to her, but she can't go the final step. His eyes cross as he's suddenly way closer than he's ever been to her over these eight years they've worked together. Her eyes are shut tight. "Maybe," she mumbles, "maybe if I do what they say, become what they say, I can still be me somehow. There can be two Becky's. The Becky for them, and the Becky when it's just me. And Aiba-kun, I...I...don't know how to say these things, I never say these things..."
He licks his lips, concerned for her and at the same time wanting her. His Becky, the one he cherishes and has cherished all this time without realizing it. He still tries to lean away. The timing is all wrong, and this isn't like her. "I like you," he admits, "but I don't think now..."
"Why not now?" she asks him. "Why not now when I can finally admit what I want? They're going to take everything else away, and I'll smile because that's what I do. That's what we do, good and bad, isn't it? We have to smile and bear with it because people need us for that. I'm not the only person who's ever been hurt or stalked, so I have to smile and tell people everything's going to be okay."
Aiba understands, he definitely does. There's very little switching off that they can do as entertainers, sides of themselves they have to keep at home, and even though he hasn't been through the whirlwind type of week she has, he truly understands her. "I don't want you to be hurting, but I don't want you to do something you're not ready for."
"I only want you to kiss me," she complains, letting him go. "I've gotten sympathy from some, worry from others, and 'the show must go on' from everybody else. I've liked you for so long, and I'm getting older, and I can't keep ignoring it. Especially not now if I have to become something that's not really me, someone who should be pitied. I want to have something that's not fabricated or dramatized. I want your stupid stories, and the way you always tease me and let me tease you back. I don't need it to be special or magical, Aiba-kun, I just need it to be real."
He interrupts her by giving her what she wants, finding her soft lips and getting the first taste of her. He shouldn't, he shouldn't, he shouldn't, he realizes as soon as she parts her lips to let him deepen the kiss. There are probably alarm bells and warning sirens and Nino calling him "Idiot!" signals going off because she's vulnerable and confused and hurt, and in the long run, he's not helping. He was just supposed to listen!
But her lip gloss tastes like apple juice, and her skin is warm to the touch. It's the first kiss of a type he shares with a cabaret girl here and there when he's had a few drinks, not the kind he should be sharing with a co-worker he's only just admitted to liking. Becky is cute and sweet and lovely, and she deserves better than a sloppy show of things, but he finds that he can't stop. Because it's Becky, his Becky, and maybe this is his way of protecting her, of letting her still be herself.
She could have pushed him away by now, but instead she leans back and tugs him along, her body stretching out against his couch cushions as he lands on top of her. It's only kissing, trying to balance over her without crushing her as she wraps her arms around his neck. He finally stops, kissing the corner of her mouth as she opens her eyes to look up at him, her long dark hair fanned out against the light cushion.
Her cheeks are pink, and her eyes are still tired, but there's a warmth to her expression that hadn't been there when she'd first arrived. He uncomfortably realizes that a few minutes of kissing was more than enough to pique his interest, and he tries to move off of her before she notices, but she won't let go.
She's a little embarrassed, nervous even, but she shakes her head. "Don't go." She parts her legs, allowing him to rest more comfortably between them, and he tries to slow his body down, planting gentle, short kisses against her cheeks, her nose, all the things he's seen for the past eight years but never really paid such close attention to. Her skin is soft, and though there are a few track marks on her cheeks from crying, he's doing his best so she doesn't have to cry again, at least not tonight.
He loves the feeling of her underneath him, the way their bodies seem to perfectly align. Her hair is soft in his rough fingertips, her lips swollen from his kisses as he brings his fingers to them. He takes his time to explore and discover Becky up close.
But then she arches against him slightly as she bends her legs at the knee on either side of him, most likely just to get comfortable, and he shuts his eyes tight as all his blood starts on a race south. "Oh, don't do that again," he mumbles.
She laughs. "It's flattering, if you don't think me crude for saying so." She finally gains the courage to kiss him first, lifting her lips to meet his slowly, her fingers at the nape of his neck and tangling in the lightened strands of his hair. He sighs when she lifts her hips up again, but this time with intentions. He can't stop his body from reacting in kind, and as they slowly kiss, he rocks gently against her, simulating something he wants but can't do with her. Not yet.
His senses are all on fire, and even with the continuing warning noises sounding off inside his skull, he's making her happy, helping her forget all that's happened this week if only for the minutes they're together, learning one another. He breaks their kiss to move his mouth to her neck, smelling her faint perfume as he brings his lips to her soft skin. It's only when she sighs in pleasure that he forces himself away before it continues down a path they might regret.
He feels a little dizzy, a little giddy as though he was back in middle school and making out with girls for the first time. "That's...that's enough," he decides, scrambling off of her and pretty much hiding at the opposite end of the couch.
She sits up. "Aiba-kun..."
He holds up his hand and shakes his head. "No, no, don't. I'm a guy, you know, and a stupid one, and once I get past a certain stupid threshold I might have trouble slowing down, and you don't deserve to find out the extent of my stupid. Not tonight."
She smiles. "Okay then. But I did tell my manager I was going to stay here. Is that okay?"
His eyes widen. "Oh," he says, fidgeting. Had he even made his bed that morning? "I...well...I..."
She shakes her head. "Oh Aiba-kun, you're probably ridiculously busy. I'm sorry for being so forward and so selfish...I didn't think we'd actually..."
He pinches the bridge of his nose to avoid looking at the cute way she's blushing. "I'm actually off tomorrow."
"Oh?"
"Yeah."
They wait for a few moments, unsure of what happens next now that he has no real reason to turn her away. He gets up. "Did you need to take a bath or anything? Do you have pajamas?"
"No. Yes."
"Fine," he says, pacing back and forth. Now his Head-Nino is definitely telling him to SEND. HER. HOME. but he's finding it impossible to listen as Becky gets off the couch and picks up her bag. "Fine, you can, uh, you can use the bathroom...to wash up and all that and brush your teeth. Right. A sleepover! I've been on TV in my pajamas before, nothing you haven't seen, right? Ha!" he laughs awkwardly. Yeah, he's lucky if he wears underwear to bed half the time...
"Thank you, Aiba-kun," she says gently, heading down the hallway toward his bathroom.
"I...I'll sleep on the couch then..."
"I'm the one who invited myself over!" she shouts back over her shoulder before going into the bathroom and closing the door.
Aiba's panic rises. Thoughts of paparazzi and scandal and scandal paparazzi and Matsujun beating him with something and more paparazzi flood through his head as he stumbles around his apartment, picking up a ton of underwear off of his bedroom floor and hurriedly changing the sheets on the bed since they were far beyond the "needing to be laundered" category. He just has to remind himself that even though they'd spent a ridiculously amazing few minutes on his couch, he's still just supposed to be supportive, right? He's not supposed to take advantage.
And thankfully for every part of him below the belly button, she comes out of the bathroom in flannel pajamas rather than some slinky negligee. Not that Aiba thinks someone like Becky would even own a slinky negligee. But then he's trapped with the thought of Becky in a slinky negligee, and she has to clap her hands at him to get his attention.
"Aiba-kun," she says. "I'm going to try and sleep."
He gestures to the bed. "Go ahead. I changed the sheets."
She looks embarrassed. "I couldn't. I've..."
He points to the bed more firmly this time. "Becky."
She nods, setting her bag down on the bedroom floor to get under the covers. Satisfied with that, Aiba washes up himself, changing into a t-shirt and shorts for the night. When he opens the bathroom door, Becky's standing there.
"Stay with me."
He shakes his head. "You know we can't..."
"I didn't say sleep with me," she mutters. "I said stay with me. You've been everything I've needed tonight. Let me be rude for a little longer?" She takes his hands in her own, and the bandage on her wrist is poking out of her pajama top sleeve. "Please?"
In the morning, they'll have to go back to what's expected. She'll have to go to her parents, meet with her management, plan what's next. Tonight might be the last time in a long time he'll have her so close, and it might be the last time in a long time that Becky will get to be who she really wants to be.
She tugs him along through his darkened bedroom to the bed, and for the first few minutes they both lie on their backs, side by side, waiting for the other to do something. Aiba had spent most of the week sad and upset for what had happened to her, and in the course of just an evening, now she's right within reach.
She seems to turn instinctually to her side, facing away from him at the same time he's approaching, laying behind her and wrapping an arm around her middle to keep her close. He can smell her hair, her perfume, and he knows that so long as she's here with him, she's safe, and it makes him breathe easier.
Things will be different in the morning, but for now, they're not on TV, they're not playing roles. He presses a kiss to the top of her head and smiles.
"Good night."