Small Floating Things (Past Masuda/Yamashita)
Small Floating Things
Past Masuda/Yamashita.
Notes: This is entirely self-indulgence and not written for anyone else. I imagine there's going to many other fics with the same cliche, just with different pairings. Still posted this here, but I don't expect other people to like this at all. I don't dare try to sympathize with Yamapi now, and I can't pretend to imagine myself in Massu's shoes, so here's me trying to write from no one's point of view. There is also very little description. I can't believe it took me longer than a week to write something this simple :\ Small = trivial = insignificant = meaningless.
--
--
They're the only ones left in the meeting room. Everyone else already left, ready to be anywhere else but here. Masuda stands behind the chair he sat earlier, carrying his bag on his shoulders. Yamashita is before the door, fingers wrapped around the doorknob.
"I'm glad you didn't tell me," Masuda says.
"We should talk about it," Yamashita says, eyes drifting across the room.
"It was your decision," Masuda takes a step towards the door. "I wouldn't dare influence it. So honestly, I'm glad you didn't tell me."
Yamashita tries a small smile. It comes off as more of a grimace. "Should we go somewhere?"
Masuda looks at the other, his gaze steady. For a few seconds, he says nothing. Then, as if coming to a conclusion, he firmly shakes his head. "No. I want to go home."
"Let me drive you."
"I'll take the train." Masuda moves towards the door, brushing Yamashita's hand away and opening the door himself. "I need some time to think."
"We'll talk later, right?" Yamashita asks, placing his palm on the door. The door remains half opened.
Masuda doesn't reply. They look at each other for a little while, until Yamashita moves aside with a sigh and Masuda slips out the door. Thirty minutes later, the room is empty.
--
By the third meeting, things are set into place. Details still need to be smoothed out, but they've come to a definite conclusion to the adjustments on the group. The time for its announcement is yet to be determined, but that decision will be up to the agency.
Two days ago, they spent the night in the same room, lying on the same bed.
Now, Masuda asks to be alone with Yamashita just to say, "I can't do this anymore."
Yamashita takes in a deep breath. He lets it out slowly. "Do what?"
"This. Us, as a couple. I can't do it anymore."
Yamashita's response is slow, his face expressionless. Far away, there is the sound of a car driving away, until they're the only two people left in the parking lot. Yamashita leans more of his weight against his car. "You're breaking up with me," he finally states.
It takes no time for Masuda to come up with a reply. "Yes," he says simply.
Yamashita closes his eyes. He reopens them. Two weeks has passed since he dropped the bomb, figuratively. "Is this because I'm leaving NEWS?"
Masuda shakes his head. This time, the answer is simple as well. "No."
"Then why?" Yamashita asks.
Masuda shrugs dismissively. "People grow apart."
"We won't have to hide it from the others anymore," Yamashita says. "We can tell all our friends. I thought you wanted to tell people about us."
It's summer, the season for concerts neither of them are holding. Eleven months have passed since they officially got together. It would almost be their anniversary, if either of them chooses to remember. Yamashita has been thinking of a solo career long before he entertained the idea of dating one of his group mates.
"We won't have to hide because there won't be anything to hide," Masuda says.
"So you just, what, fell out of love?"
The lights above them flicker. Masuda looks towards the lights, away from Yamashita. "It happens."
Down here in the basement, there is no breeze. If anyone finds the atmosphere chilling, it is a direct result from the conversation being held. Masuda takes a few steps backward, moving to leave. Yamashita remains motionless. Finally, Masuda starts walking away. One step before entering the building, he turns around to look at Yamashita.
There is no need to raise his voice. Masuda says quietly, "I know you have other friends. But if Yamashita-kun ever feels lonely, I'm still here."
Yamashita laughs dryly. "You're leaving me and you wonder if I'll be lonely," he says, his tone more scathing than usual.
Masuda looks downward. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be."
--
Masuda's phone is buzzing in his bag. He fishes it out, the name Yamashita Tomohisa glowing from the outer screen. He lets the phone ring two more times before flipping it open.
"Yamashita-kun."
"Hi." Yamashita's tone is cautious. Withdrawn. It's been weeks since they last talked on the phone. The sound of breathing always seems louder when it travels across phonelines. "How are you?"
Masuda lies down. He was reading through magazines in bed when Yamashita called. "We're planning a single release," he replies.
"I know," says Yamashita. He stares at the blank television screen from his couch. "I just wanted to...talk to you."
"Okay," Masuda says.
The conversation stalls. Yamashita sighs, forming a small cloud of white mist. Masuda curls himself against the blanket, but he remains more on top than under. Masuda's body heat has always been higher than most, and he always enjoyed cold weather more than others; Yamashita's fingers are ice cold.
"Are you happy?" Yamashita asks.
Masuda shuffles the phone to his right ear. "I'm fine."
Yamashita puts his fingers on his neck, feeling his own body heat. "Is there...are you dating?" he asks, stuttering through the words.
"I don't think that has anything to do with Yamashita-kun anymore," Masuda replies.
"Massu, I..."
"I'm glad you called," Masuda cuts in, his voice dismissive.
Yamashita slumps against the couch. His shirt rides up, and the material of the couch scratches against his back. "Yeah. Bye."
Masuda focuses at the nonexistent patterns on the ceiling. "Goodbye."
Yamashita flips his cellphone close without looking at it. On Masuda's side, all he hears is a beep, then the empty fizzle of an unconnected network.
--
"You said if I'm ever lonely, I can come to you."
Masuda is leaving the recording studio when he hears Yamashita's voice. Yamashita is standing in the hallway, this time leaning against the wall. He's wearing a beanie and sunglasses; standard outdoor attire.
"Yamashita-kun," Masuda greets with a tiny bow of his head. "How long have you been here?"
"A while," Yamashita says. "I heard your voice down the hall. Do you have work later?"
"No," Masuda replies.
"Come to the rooftop with me. Just for a short while."
Masuda glances towards the elevator. They had a photoshoot on the rooftop of this building once. The sky was grey that morning, and the staff had to edit the photos for the final product. This morning, the sky was a tranquil light blue. Masuda tightens his lips and nods.
On the rooftop, Yamashita finds a place to sit. Masuda sits down as well, a polite distance between them. It's almost sunset, the scenery colored with shades of orange, red and yellow. They sit there silently. It takes a long time for one of them to finally break the silence.
"I've been trying to move on," Yamashita says. "I'm trying to, but..."
"Some things take time," Masuda says.
Yamashita lets out a self-deprecating laugh. "Was your feelings really that shallow?"
"I loved you," Masuda says plainly. "But nothing is forever, and I can't help my feelings. I really am sorry. I know I won't ever be able to apologize enough, but I'm willing to do anything for you to forgive me." He almost sounds earnest.
"Except getting back together with me," Yamashita points out.
The tips of Masuda's lips twitches. "Except that."
"Nothing is forever," Yamashita repeats. His hands are shaking.
--
With his manager driving the car, Yamashita's lazily dozing off in the backseat. He jumps a little when his phone beeps out his ringtone for text messages; he's even more surprised to find that Masuda is the sender. If anything, he always expected to be the one to initiate their next interaction.
You told Koyama about us, he reads. A sad emoticon trails behind the sentence.
Outside the car, traffic is going about normally. Everyone is going somewhere. When he looks back to the screen, the words blink back at him.
It was an accident, Yamashita texts back.
Masuda is at a studio, waiting for the staff to finish preparing the set. It's going to take another twenty minutes, so he's relaxing in the nearby waiting room. He's not paying attention to anything other than his phone at the moment, and it doesn't take long for him to send another text. He didn't believe you.
Yamashita chuckles lightly. When Koyama remained suspicious after Yamashita's confession, Yamashita told the guy to ask Masuda. Yamashita spends more time composing his next message, deleting and retyping words multiple times.
Sorry. There was something between us, and I need to know it existed. With no one else knowing, it felt like there was nothing there.
A staff member walks in to ask if anyone needs anything. Masuda refuses the offer and thanks the staff politely, all the while never looking away from the tightly-clutched mobile in his hands. When the screen turns dark after the five-minute mark, he begins moving his thumb across the keypad in jittery motions. Far away, a distant voice starts coming closer, until Masuda realizes with a jolt that it's calling his name. Looking at his message, he closes his eyes gently, takes a deep breath and clicks send.
It was there. I'll always remember. We need to stop apologizing to each other. :)
Across the city, Yamashita's half asleep when his cellphone jumps in his lap. He traces the message with his forefinger, his eyes lingering on certain words. His manager announces that it'd be another ten minutes until they get to their destination. Dozing off once more, phone tucked securely back in his bag, Yamashita relaxes against the backseat with a smile.
--
The crowd around them is buzzing with excitement. No one pays them any extra attention. They're former groupmates, it's not that odd for them to be talking to each other.
"It's been an eventful year," Yamashita says. Behind them, the temple bell rings every few seconds.
It's not raining or snowing, but there's a hint of moisture in the air. Neither of them are wearing gloves, and Yamashita's hands are in his pockets while Masuda's covering his with sleeves. Last year, under the same circumstances, they might have tried to sneak away together. Back then, Masuda probably wouldn't have worn the plain white outfit he's currently donning.
"Yeah," Masuda replies softly.
Someone bumps into Masuda. Instinctively, Masuda moves towards Yamashita, until he realizes what he's doing and stops abruptly. Masuda stares at Yamashita's shoes until he realizes how awkward it is and looks up to search for Yamashita's eyes. If he takes the chance to look Yamashita over, it's between him and that belt he gave Yamashita.
"We didn't come last year," Masuda says.
Yamashita's fingers ache at the thought of reaching out. He places his arm firmly by his sides. "No," he confirms. "We didn't."
A junior group is being ushered forward towards the altar. The ones who bother to are staying near the temple, cooing over the fresh juniors who showed up this year. Most of them have the next day off, but it's late enough that everyone else is exiting the temple grounds, leaving footsteps in the stone-paved pathway.
It's nearing the time they should be leaving as well.
"Hey," Yamashita says in a low tone. "I promise, this is the last time I'm saying this."
Masuda's eyes widen.
Yamashita smiles. "I love you."
It takes Masuda a few seconds to react. Eventually, he smiles in return. He can only hope that no one overheard Yamashita, but it's not something he's overly worried about.
"Thank you for everything, Yamashita-kun."
Yamashita takes a step away. "Goodbye, Massu."
"We'll see each other again," Masuda replies. He doesn't move from his spot beside the trees.
"It won't be the same," Yamashita says.
"No," Masuda admits. "It won't." They look at each other, and the world fades temporarily. Someone behind them shouts a new year cheer, and Masuda finds himself forced back into focus. "Goodbye," he finally manages to say.
Yamashita turns around and begins walking away. It's a familiar image, his back amongst everything else. Masuda stands there watching until Yamashita's figure disappears into the distance.
Past Masuda/Yamashita.
Notes: This is entirely self-indulgence and not written for anyone else. I imagine there's going to many other fics with the same cliche, just with different pairings. Still posted this here, but I don't expect other people to like this at all. I don't dare try to sympathize with Yamapi now, and I can't pretend to imagine myself in Massu's shoes, so here's me trying to write from no one's point of view. There is also very little description. I can't believe it took me longer than a week to write something this simple :\ Small = trivial = insignificant = meaningless.
--
- Small Floating Things
Past Masuda/Yamashita.
--
They're the only ones left in the meeting room. Everyone else already left, ready to be anywhere else but here. Masuda stands behind the chair he sat earlier, carrying his bag on his shoulders. Yamashita is before the door, fingers wrapped around the doorknob.
"I'm glad you didn't tell me," Masuda says.
"We should talk about it," Yamashita says, eyes drifting across the room.
"It was your decision," Masuda takes a step towards the door. "I wouldn't dare influence it. So honestly, I'm glad you didn't tell me."
Yamashita tries a small smile. It comes off as more of a grimace. "Should we go somewhere?"
Masuda looks at the other, his gaze steady. For a few seconds, he says nothing. Then, as if coming to a conclusion, he firmly shakes his head. "No. I want to go home."
"Let me drive you."
"I'll take the train." Masuda moves towards the door, brushing Yamashita's hand away and opening the door himself. "I need some time to think."
"We'll talk later, right?" Yamashita asks, placing his palm on the door. The door remains half opened.
Masuda doesn't reply. They look at each other for a little while, until Yamashita moves aside with a sigh and Masuda slips out the door. Thirty minutes later, the room is empty.
--
By the third meeting, things are set into place. Details still need to be smoothed out, but they've come to a definite conclusion to the adjustments on the group. The time for its announcement is yet to be determined, but that decision will be up to the agency.
Two days ago, they spent the night in the same room, lying on the same bed.
Now, Masuda asks to be alone with Yamashita just to say, "I can't do this anymore."
Yamashita takes in a deep breath. He lets it out slowly. "Do what?"
"This. Us, as a couple. I can't do it anymore."
Yamashita's response is slow, his face expressionless. Far away, there is the sound of a car driving away, until they're the only two people left in the parking lot. Yamashita leans more of his weight against his car. "You're breaking up with me," he finally states.
It takes no time for Masuda to come up with a reply. "Yes," he says simply.
Yamashita closes his eyes. He reopens them. Two weeks has passed since he dropped the bomb, figuratively. "Is this because I'm leaving NEWS?"
Masuda shakes his head. This time, the answer is simple as well. "No."
"Then why?" Yamashita asks.
Masuda shrugs dismissively. "People grow apart."
"We won't have to hide it from the others anymore," Yamashita says. "We can tell all our friends. I thought you wanted to tell people about us."
It's summer, the season for concerts neither of them are holding. Eleven months have passed since they officially got together. It would almost be their anniversary, if either of them chooses to remember. Yamashita has been thinking of a solo career long before he entertained the idea of dating one of his group mates.
"We won't have to hide because there won't be anything to hide," Masuda says.
"So you just, what, fell out of love?"
The lights above them flicker. Masuda looks towards the lights, away from Yamashita. "It happens."
Down here in the basement, there is no breeze. If anyone finds the atmosphere chilling, it is a direct result from the conversation being held. Masuda takes a few steps backward, moving to leave. Yamashita remains motionless. Finally, Masuda starts walking away. One step before entering the building, he turns around to look at Yamashita.
There is no need to raise his voice. Masuda says quietly, "I know you have other friends. But if Yamashita-kun ever feels lonely, I'm still here."
Yamashita laughs dryly. "You're leaving me and you wonder if I'll be lonely," he says, his tone more scathing than usual.
Masuda looks downward. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be."
--
Masuda's phone is buzzing in his bag. He fishes it out, the name Yamashita Tomohisa glowing from the outer screen. He lets the phone ring two more times before flipping it open.
"Yamashita-kun."
"Hi." Yamashita's tone is cautious. Withdrawn. It's been weeks since they last talked on the phone. The sound of breathing always seems louder when it travels across phonelines. "How are you?"
Masuda lies down. He was reading through magazines in bed when Yamashita called. "We're planning a single release," he replies.
"I know," says Yamashita. He stares at the blank television screen from his couch. "I just wanted to...talk to you."
"Okay," Masuda says.
The conversation stalls. Yamashita sighs, forming a small cloud of white mist. Masuda curls himself against the blanket, but he remains more on top than under. Masuda's body heat has always been higher than most, and he always enjoyed cold weather more than others; Yamashita's fingers are ice cold.
"Are you happy?" Yamashita asks.
Masuda shuffles the phone to his right ear. "I'm fine."
Yamashita puts his fingers on his neck, feeling his own body heat. "Is there...are you dating?" he asks, stuttering through the words.
"I don't think that has anything to do with Yamashita-kun anymore," Masuda replies.
"Massu, I..."
"I'm glad you called," Masuda cuts in, his voice dismissive.
Yamashita slumps against the couch. His shirt rides up, and the material of the couch scratches against his back. "Yeah. Bye."
Masuda focuses at the nonexistent patterns on the ceiling. "Goodbye."
Yamashita flips his cellphone close without looking at it. On Masuda's side, all he hears is a beep, then the empty fizzle of an unconnected network.
--
"You said if I'm ever lonely, I can come to you."
Masuda is leaving the recording studio when he hears Yamashita's voice. Yamashita is standing in the hallway, this time leaning against the wall. He's wearing a beanie and sunglasses; standard outdoor attire.
"Yamashita-kun," Masuda greets with a tiny bow of his head. "How long have you been here?"
"A while," Yamashita says. "I heard your voice down the hall. Do you have work later?"
"No," Masuda replies.
"Come to the rooftop with me. Just for a short while."
Masuda glances towards the elevator. They had a photoshoot on the rooftop of this building once. The sky was grey that morning, and the staff had to edit the photos for the final product. This morning, the sky was a tranquil light blue. Masuda tightens his lips and nods.
On the rooftop, Yamashita finds a place to sit. Masuda sits down as well, a polite distance between them. It's almost sunset, the scenery colored with shades of orange, red and yellow. They sit there silently. It takes a long time for one of them to finally break the silence.
"I've been trying to move on," Yamashita says. "I'm trying to, but..."
"Some things take time," Masuda says.
Yamashita lets out a self-deprecating laugh. "Was your feelings really that shallow?"
"I loved you," Masuda says plainly. "But nothing is forever, and I can't help my feelings. I really am sorry. I know I won't ever be able to apologize enough, but I'm willing to do anything for you to forgive me." He almost sounds earnest.
"Except getting back together with me," Yamashita points out.
The tips of Masuda's lips twitches. "Except that."
"Nothing is forever," Yamashita repeats. His hands are shaking.
--
With his manager driving the car, Yamashita's lazily dozing off in the backseat. He jumps a little when his phone beeps out his ringtone for text messages; he's even more surprised to find that Masuda is the sender. If anything, he always expected to be the one to initiate their next interaction.
You told Koyama about us, he reads. A sad emoticon trails behind the sentence.
Outside the car, traffic is going about normally. Everyone is going somewhere. When he looks back to the screen, the words blink back at him.
It was an accident, Yamashita texts back.
Masuda is at a studio, waiting for the staff to finish preparing the set. It's going to take another twenty minutes, so he's relaxing in the nearby waiting room. He's not paying attention to anything other than his phone at the moment, and it doesn't take long for him to send another text. He didn't believe you.
Yamashita chuckles lightly. When Koyama remained suspicious after Yamashita's confession, Yamashita told the guy to ask Masuda. Yamashita spends more time composing his next message, deleting and retyping words multiple times.
Sorry. There was something between us, and I need to know it existed. With no one else knowing, it felt like there was nothing there.
A staff member walks in to ask if anyone needs anything. Masuda refuses the offer and thanks the staff politely, all the while never looking away from the tightly-clutched mobile in his hands. When the screen turns dark after the five-minute mark, he begins moving his thumb across the keypad in jittery motions. Far away, a distant voice starts coming closer, until Masuda realizes with a jolt that it's calling his name. Looking at his message, he closes his eyes gently, takes a deep breath and clicks send.
It was there. I'll always remember. We need to stop apologizing to each other. :)
Across the city, Yamashita's half asleep when his cellphone jumps in his lap. He traces the message with his forefinger, his eyes lingering on certain words. His manager announces that it'd be another ten minutes until they get to their destination. Dozing off once more, phone tucked securely back in his bag, Yamashita relaxes against the backseat with a smile.
--
The crowd around them is buzzing with excitement. No one pays them any extra attention. They're former groupmates, it's not that odd for them to be talking to each other.
"It's been an eventful year," Yamashita says. Behind them, the temple bell rings every few seconds.
It's not raining or snowing, but there's a hint of moisture in the air. Neither of them are wearing gloves, and Yamashita's hands are in his pockets while Masuda's covering his with sleeves. Last year, under the same circumstances, they might have tried to sneak away together. Back then, Masuda probably wouldn't have worn the plain white outfit he's currently donning.
"Yeah," Masuda replies softly.
Someone bumps into Masuda. Instinctively, Masuda moves towards Yamashita, until he realizes what he's doing and stops abruptly. Masuda stares at Yamashita's shoes until he realizes how awkward it is and looks up to search for Yamashita's eyes. If he takes the chance to look Yamashita over, it's between him and that belt he gave Yamashita.
"We didn't come last year," Masuda says.
Yamashita's fingers ache at the thought of reaching out. He places his arm firmly by his sides. "No," he confirms. "We didn't."
A junior group is being ushered forward towards the altar. The ones who bother to are staying near the temple, cooing over the fresh juniors who showed up this year. Most of them have the next day off, but it's late enough that everyone else is exiting the temple grounds, leaving footsteps in the stone-paved pathway.
It's nearing the time they should be leaving as well.
"Hey," Yamashita says in a low tone. "I promise, this is the last time I'm saying this."
Masuda's eyes widen.
Yamashita smiles. "I love you."
It takes Masuda a few seconds to react. Eventually, he smiles in return. He can only hope that no one overheard Yamashita, but it's not something he's overly worried about.
"Thank you for everything, Yamashita-kun."
Yamashita takes a step away. "Goodbye, Massu."
"We'll see each other again," Masuda replies. He doesn't move from his spot beside the trees.
"It won't be the same," Yamashita says.
"No," Masuda admits. "It won't." They look at each other, and the world fades temporarily. Someone behind them shouts a new year cheer, and Masuda finds himself forced back into focus. "Goodbye," he finally manages to say.
Yamashita turns around and begins walking away. It's a familiar image, his back amongst everything else. Masuda stands there watching until Yamashita's figure disappears into the distance.