[Fic] See Me
Title: See Me
Author: analine
Pairing: TutixNagayan
Warnings: None, worksafe
Rating: PG
Summary: Just after Tenimyu has ended, Tuti and Nagayan discuss relationships, managers and first collaborations. ^_~
Word Count: 2,646
Notes: This fic was written for the Rare Finds Fanfic Contest over on Aarin Fantasy (which I was prompted to enter by kumakun4077 ^_^) and since the contest is over now, I wanted to post it here as well. The prompt I wrote on was "see me". (Big surprise, right? :P) Anyway. This takes place in the early summer of 2005, after the Prince of Tennis musicals have ended. 1st person Tuti POV. I hope you enjoy it!
Takashi is staring at me in the darkness, probably wondering why I’m so quiet. Why I’ve followed him up the stairs to his apartment and out onto his balcony without a word like this, when normally we’d be swapping silly rehearsal stories by now, or making plans for our next day off together, even if we both know it won't be for another month or more.
Takashi has been working hard lately, after all, and days off have been scarce for both of us. For some reason I didn’t notice it back at the coffee shop, but his eyes are puffy, a little swollen, and I’m sure he hasn’t been sleeping enough-he never does. Even though it would be more than fine for him to sit back and relax a little, especially now that the musicals have ended, he’s been all over the place--magazines, TV, radio--and he has a bunch of side projects too, none of which he’d ever dream of putting aside for the sake of something as practical as sleep.
I’m happy for him, but at the same time, I think when I’m being totally honest, I’d probably admit that it bothers me a little. He’s fearless in front of the camera, and in pursuing his goals, and I guess sometimes I just wish he was like that when it came to…well, me.
Takashi isn’t really someone who can do things half-heartedly though. He feels like he has to be fearless with all this stuff. I know that, and I don’t want to get in his way. It would be selfish of me to expect any less of him.
Right now though, I’m having a hard time not feeling at least a little selfish. He has, after all, just informed me of a rather official-sounding suggestion from his manager-that he should “hold off on more than the occasional private engagement” this summer. I’m not even really sure what this means (though I’m sure it can’t be good), and I haven’t had the chance to ask him, because somehow we got on the topic of this, whatever this is. Takashi’s inability to go anywhere without snapping 16 pictures of himself (and whoever is with him) at various points along the way, I guess. It’s usually a little endearing, except on nights like tonight, when I feel like I’ve been potentially discarded due to a mere suggestion from a woman who has known Takashi for all of two weeks.
I’m disappointed in him, and up until tonight, I can’t think of a feeling that I would associate less with Takashi than disappointment.
Takashi, who kissed me first, on that weird, weird night over a year ago now. Takashi, who at every turn of our relationship has surprised me, and intrigued me, and inspired me. Takashi, whose thoughts revolve in a direction that I can never, ever predict but whose movements when we’re together fall in synch with mine in a way that I’ve never experienced with another person before. It’s been that way with him since day one, since he walked into that rehearsal hall two years ago.
I’m just not used to the idea of disappointment with Takashi.
I stare at him, and after a moment he shakes his head.
“Sometimes I just want people to see me, you know?” he says, as if this somehow answers some unspoken question of mine.
His eyes meet mine and I blink, trying to make sense of him.
“Well, there’s definitely no problem there.” I’m thinking of all the photo shoots he’s been busy with lately, his smile gracing the pages of any number of magazines. Lack of exposure is not something he’s exactly had a problem with lately.
He shakes his head. “No, I mean, really see me. There’s something I want to express, and sometimes I feel like I can only do that-”
“In front of the camera,” I supply. “I know.”
He shakes his head. “I just don’t think it’s that easy to really see a person.”
“And that’s why you want to do more of this fan club stuff? With the new manager and all?”
“Yeah, I guess. That’s part of it.”
“Part of it…”
According to what he told me earlier, even something like tonight, meeting a “friend” for coffee, is something he’ll have to start being more sensitive about, for the sake of his image.
“And how exactly does cultivating this image you mentioned lead to people seeing anything other than…what you want them to see?”
He shrugs, ignoring the anger in my voice. Or maybe I’m doing a better job than I think I am of appearing calm.
“People see what they want to see, and I show people what I want to show them. That’s all I’m saying,” he says matter-of-factly.
“And this new…arrangement…this...whatever it is…“occasional engagements”, or whatever, has something to do with what you want to show people?”
“I guess so, yeah.”
I stand up. My hands are shaking. I need a cigarette. I think about leaving, about marching out of the apartment and leaving him alone out here on the balcony, but I can’t do it. I reach into my back pocket for my cigarettes and open the pack quickly, glancing down at him for a second.
“Sorry,” I mumble, apologizing for my bad habit, and for my inability to put it off in his presence, as I move to the far end of the balcony.
I lean over the railing and light up. I’m facing the wind so the smoke gets carried off towards Takashi’s neighbor’s balcony, but unfortunately this also means I’m left with no choice but to stand facing Takashi. He watches me for a moment, as I feel the pleasant tingle spreading through my lungs and body, and then he closes his eyes. I take a few puffs, then one more long drag before I grind the half-finished cigarette into the concrete.
I finish quickly on purpose, because when I look at Takashi right now, a million thoughts start running through my head and I can’t stop them. Things that I don’t want to tell him, but that I’m sure are written all over my face, and so I really want to turn around before he opens his eyes again. I lean forward and turn my back to him, staring out over the balcony into the darkness.
I’ve been afraid that something like this might happen for months now. We’re not together all the time like we were during the musicals. That combination has ended--we both have a lot of different things going on now, things that are as far from Takashi and I sharing a stage as partners as they possibly could be. I’ve always been aware that maintaining what we have between us would be a challenge. Even with this new musical scheduled for later in the summer, anymore, I just don’t know what to do with him. I don’t know how to act, or how it’s supposed to be between us. I don’t know what he wants. And then he tells me that because of this suggestion from his manager, he won’t even be able to meet me anymore?
I take a few deep breaths before I force myself to turn and look at him. To my surprise he’s getting up, unfolding his legs and moving towards me.
“Idiot,” he whispers in my ear a second later, and his arms wrap around my chest tightly. I can feel his cheek against my back, against my shoulder blade. “Idiot,” he says again.
He may be right. I certainly feel like an idiot for being mad at him right now, when the sensation of his arms around me immediately feels so warm and so good.
“She doesn’t know about us,” he tells me quietly, and then he moves next to me on the balcony, his back against the railing, facing me. “My new manager. She doesn’t know.” Our shoulders press together tightly.
“Is that…good?” I ask tentatively.
He smiles, and nudges me a little with his elbow. “When she mentioned personal engagements I’m pretty sure she was talking about girls. She mentioned being careful with my friends too, but that was more about where we meet, attracting attention, that sort of thing.” He leans forward and looks up at me, his brown eyes a little amused. “Okay?”
I nod, and feel my face flush a little.
“I’m not planning on changing anything about us.”
“I’m sorry,” I tell him, feeling, among other things, kind of like a jerk.
“Don’t be,” he says, but it doesn’t really help. “This is what I meant, by the way.”
“Huh?”
“Expressing myself, even to you. It’s not as easy as it looks.” He grins, and then his face falls a little. “I did think about it though. About what it would mean to do what’s really expected of me.”
I know what he means by this. We’ve discussed it many times before, though not particularly recently. What’s expected of us, what we’re expected to show to our fans, to the public, is something that we can never get all that far away from, manager or no manager.
“But I can’t do that. I don’t think it’d be fair. To anyone.”
“Even this new hot shot manager?”
“Part-time manager,” he clarifies now. “And well, if she enjoys dragging me out of bed each morning and never seeing a smile on my face again, maybe. Otherwise, no, I don’t think so. I think she wants to see me happy. It’s in her best interests. Tamacchi’s too.” He pauses, and there’s a quick flash of anger that passes over his face. “Did you really think I’d agree to give up seeing you?”
I shake my head. “It’s not your fault. I was being stupid.”
“I’m not just going to let something like this go based on someone’s suggestion, regardless of who it is,” he says, and his voice is tight. “I’ve thought a lot about this, and… We’ve made a choice, you know?”
“I know,” I say, and instead of responding like I know I should, I’m watching his face and thinking about how the soft light from the moon (or maybe it’s the city lights) makes his brown hair look a shade lighter than it is, and about how I really want to kiss him right now.
“I don’t like it,” he says quietly, as he presses his cheek to my shoulder. “That we can’t tell everyone. I know why we can’t, but… Pictures are a little different, right? That’s why I don’t mind the fan club stuff, or the blog.” He smiles. “Otherwise I’m going to end up doing something I’m not supposed to do. Spilling everything, or worse. Tamacchi would kill me, and… I don’t want that quite yet.” He grins, a little mischievously. “Oh, and I’ve decided on a new design. For the store. You’re going to help me.”
“Me?”
He nods vigorously, and then his face turns serious. “We’re going to collaborate.”
I’m completely speechless, and he laughs.
“It probably won’t be for a while… Next year, maybe-there are a few things going into production already, and with everything going on later this summer and this fall, there’s no way it can happen soon, but… I really want to do it. I want to design something with you.”
“You’re serious.”
“Completely.”
I try to wrap my mind around what he’s saying. “But…our styles are totally different. How…?”
He’s grinning at me, and I can tell, somehow, that this is part of his plan. “I know. It’s going to be great.”
“And you’ve cleared this with-”
“It doesn’t matter. My designs are different. There’s very little involvement from the agency as far as the store goes.”
“Hmm…” I’m still pretty confused as to how this will actually work, but… At the same time, I’m completely flattered. “Okay, fine, let’s do it.”
He stares at me for a moment, and then lets out a long breath. “Well, that’s a relief.” He watches me, and I suddenly wonder if he was nervous. Takashi is never nervous. I stare at him, a little confused.
“I kind of thought you wouldn’t agree,” he admits with a laugh.
“Are you kidding?” My silence is too long, probably, but I’m trying to think of how best to say this. “I’m happy,” I say finally, staring forward. “To be able to do something like this with you. It will be really fun. Thank you, for being willing to work with me.”
“Yeah,” he says, and I watch his face closely.
“Takashi…” I turn to him, and I can’t help but smile. “Are you…blushing?”
He glares at me, and his face is definitely several shades darker than it was a second ago. “No, I’m not.”
“Oh, but I think you are~” I nudge him with my elbow. “Even your ears," I tease. "That’s pretty impressive.”
“Shut up,” he tells me, but then he’s laughing, and slapping my arm. “After that completely girly act you just pulled on me?”
I gasp in disbelief.
He’s imitating me now though, and it’s pretty impressive-he does a great impression of what I imagine I must have looked like, sulking all the way back from the coffee shop.
“Fine, fine. Sorry for being so girly. I won’t let it happen again.”
He’s smiling at me as if he knows something I don’t, and suddenly it’s as if everything I was feeling earlier, all of my doubts and insecurities have been exposed. I feel like an idiot again, and naturally, I have an immediate and overwhelming desire to get rid of this feeling. Turns out, the only way I can think of to do this right now is to kiss him, and so I do.
As my lips are pressed against his, I feel his body relax in my arms, and his pulse quicken against my chest. I’m thinking that he’s right--it’s not very easy at all to see another person. We can do this, no problem, we can lose ourselves in this feeling, or we can lose ourselves on stage, in that combination, but really understanding each other? It’s so much more complicated. He’s been a part of my life for over two years now, and still… So much of him is a complete mystery to me.
His body is warm against mine, and all I want to do is hold him close--to become closer to him, to make this distance smaller, to understand how he can walk out onto stage so fearlessly, but still blush like that in front of me…
And then he kisses me like this and doesn’t stop until it feels as though all of my questions and all of my fears and all of my insecurities have melted into the warmth between our bodies, and when his tongue presses against the roof of my mouth it feels so good that I don’t even care what any of this means anymore.
And when we’re lying in bed later, and he tells me that sometimes he feels like I understand him better than he understands himself, I believe him, even though it’s ridiculous, because tonight, all of his mysteries have somehow faded away into this darkness and this warmth and this kiss, and it makes anything seem possible.
And when I tell him I love him so much that I’m not sure I could stop even if I wanted to, I don’t regret it.
Even in the morning, when the light is streaming into his bedroom and I realize that he’s already gone, and that I’m alone in bed with my thoughts, I don’t regret it. Because sometimes I feel like maybe I actually do see him, and what I see is really, really good, and I want to hold onto it, no matter what.
And so I don’t regret any of it at all--all I want is to see him again.
***
Author: analine
Pairing: TutixNagayan
Warnings: None, worksafe
Rating: PG
Summary: Just after Tenimyu has ended, Tuti and Nagayan discuss relationships, managers and first collaborations. ^_~
Word Count: 2,646
Notes: This fic was written for the Rare Finds Fanfic Contest over on Aarin Fantasy (which I was prompted to enter by kumakun4077 ^_^) and since the contest is over now, I wanted to post it here as well. The prompt I wrote on was "see me". (Big surprise, right? :P) Anyway. This takes place in the early summer of 2005, after the Prince of Tennis musicals have ended. 1st person Tuti POV. I hope you enjoy it!
Takashi is staring at me in the darkness, probably wondering why I’m so quiet. Why I’ve followed him up the stairs to his apartment and out onto his balcony without a word like this, when normally we’d be swapping silly rehearsal stories by now, or making plans for our next day off together, even if we both know it won't be for another month or more.
Takashi has been working hard lately, after all, and days off have been scarce for both of us. For some reason I didn’t notice it back at the coffee shop, but his eyes are puffy, a little swollen, and I’m sure he hasn’t been sleeping enough-he never does. Even though it would be more than fine for him to sit back and relax a little, especially now that the musicals have ended, he’s been all over the place--magazines, TV, radio--and he has a bunch of side projects too, none of which he’d ever dream of putting aside for the sake of something as practical as sleep.
I’m happy for him, but at the same time, I think when I’m being totally honest, I’d probably admit that it bothers me a little. He’s fearless in front of the camera, and in pursuing his goals, and I guess sometimes I just wish he was like that when it came to…well, me.
Takashi isn’t really someone who can do things half-heartedly though. He feels like he has to be fearless with all this stuff. I know that, and I don’t want to get in his way. It would be selfish of me to expect any less of him.
Right now though, I’m having a hard time not feeling at least a little selfish. He has, after all, just informed me of a rather official-sounding suggestion from his manager-that he should “hold off on more than the occasional private engagement” this summer. I’m not even really sure what this means (though I’m sure it can’t be good), and I haven’t had the chance to ask him, because somehow we got on the topic of this, whatever this is. Takashi’s inability to go anywhere without snapping 16 pictures of himself (and whoever is with him) at various points along the way, I guess. It’s usually a little endearing, except on nights like tonight, when I feel like I’ve been potentially discarded due to a mere suggestion from a woman who has known Takashi for all of two weeks.
I’m disappointed in him, and up until tonight, I can’t think of a feeling that I would associate less with Takashi than disappointment.
Takashi, who kissed me first, on that weird, weird night over a year ago now. Takashi, who at every turn of our relationship has surprised me, and intrigued me, and inspired me. Takashi, whose thoughts revolve in a direction that I can never, ever predict but whose movements when we’re together fall in synch with mine in a way that I’ve never experienced with another person before. It’s been that way with him since day one, since he walked into that rehearsal hall two years ago.
I’m just not used to the idea of disappointment with Takashi.
I stare at him, and after a moment he shakes his head.
“Sometimes I just want people to see me, you know?” he says, as if this somehow answers some unspoken question of mine.
His eyes meet mine and I blink, trying to make sense of him.
“Well, there’s definitely no problem there.” I’m thinking of all the photo shoots he’s been busy with lately, his smile gracing the pages of any number of magazines. Lack of exposure is not something he’s exactly had a problem with lately.
He shakes his head. “No, I mean, really see me. There’s something I want to express, and sometimes I feel like I can only do that-”
“In front of the camera,” I supply. “I know.”
He shakes his head. “I just don’t think it’s that easy to really see a person.”
“And that’s why you want to do more of this fan club stuff? With the new manager and all?”
“Yeah, I guess. That’s part of it.”
“Part of it…”
According to what he told me earlier, even something like tonight, meeting a “friend” for coffee, is something he’ll have to start being more sensitive about, for the sake of his image.
“And how exactly does cultivating this image you mentioned lead to people seeing anything other than…what you want them to see?”
He shrugs, ignoring the anger in my voice. Or maybe I’m doing a better job than I think I am of appearing calm.
“People see what they want to see, and I show people what I want to show them. That’s all I’m saying,” he says matter-of-factly.
“And this new…arrangement…this...whatever it is…“occasional engagements”, or whatever, has something to do with what you want to show people?”
“I guess so, yeah.”
I stand up. My hands are shaking. I need a cigarette. I think about leaving, about marching out of the apartment and leaving him alone out here on the balcony, but I can’t do it. I reach into my back pocket for my cigarettes and open the pack quickly, glancing down at him for a second.
“Sorry,” I mumble, apologizing for my bad habit, and for my inability to put it off in his presence, as I move to the far end of the balcony.
I lean over the railing and light up. I’m facing the wind so the smoke gets carried off towards Takashi’s neighbor’s balcony, but unfortunately this also means I’m left with no choice but to stand facing Takashi. He watches me for a moment, as I feel the pleasant tingle spreading through my lungs and body, and then he closes his eyes. I take a few puffs, then one more long drag before I grind the half-finished cigarette into the concrete.
I finish quickly on purpose, because when I look at Takashi right now, a million thoughts start running through my head and I can’t stop them. Things that I don’t want to tell him, but that I’m sure are written all over my face, and so I really want to turn around before he opens his eyes again. I lean forward and turn my back to him, staring out over the balcony into the darkness.
I’ve been afraid that something like this might happen for months now. We’re not together all the time like we were during the musicals. That combination has ended--we both have a lot of different things going on now, things that are as far from Takashi and I sharing a stage as partners as they possibly could be. I’ve always been aware that maintaining what we have between us would be a challenge. Even with this new musical scheduled for later in the summer, anymore, I just don’t know what to do with him. I don’t know how to act, or how it’s supposed to be between us. I don’t know what he wants. And then he tells me that because of this suggestion from his manager, he won’t even be able to meet me anymore?
I take a few deep breaths before I force myself to turn and look at him. To my surprise he’s getting up, unfolding his legs and moving towards me.
“Idiot,” he whispers in my ear a second later, and his arms wrap around my chest tightly. I can feel his cheek against my back, against my shoulder blade. “Idiot,” he says again.
He may be right. I certainly feel like an idiot for being mad at him right now, when the sensation of his arms around me immediately feels so warm and so good.
“She doesn’t know about us,” he tells me quietly, and then he moves next to me on the balcony, his back against the railing, facing me. “My new manager. She doesn’t know.” Our shoulders press together tightly.
“Is that…good?” I ask tentatively.
He smiles, and nudges me a little with his elbow. “When she mentioned personal engagements I’m pretty sure she was talking about girls. She mentioned being careful with my friends too, but that was more about where we meet, attracting attention, that sort of thing.” He leans forward and looks up at me, his brown eyes a little amused. “Okay?”
I nod, and feel my face flush a little.
“I’m not planning on changing anything about us.”
“I’m sorry,” I tell him, feeling, among other things, kind of like a jerk.
“Don’t be,” he says, but it doesn’t really help. “This is what I meant, by the way.”
“Huh?”
“Expressing myself, even to you. It’s not as easy as it looks.” He grins, and then his face falls a little. “I did think about it though. About what it would mean to do what’s really expected of me.”
I know what he means by this. We’ve discussed it many times before, though not particularly recently. What’s expected of us, what we’re expected to show to our fans, to the public, is something that we can never get all that far away from, manager or no manager.
“But I can’t do that. I don’t think it’d be fair. To anyone.”
“Even this new hot shot manager?”
“Part-time manager,” he clarifies now. “And well, if she enjoys dragging me out of bed each morning and never seeing a smile on my face again, maybe. Otherwise, no, I don’t think so. I think she wants to see me happy. It’s in her best interests. Tamacchi’s too.” He pauses, and there’s a quick flash of anger that passes over his face. “Did you really think I’d agree to give up seeing you?”
I shake my head. “It’s not your fault. I was being stupid.”
“I’m not just going to let something like this go based on someone’s suggestion, regardless of who it is,” he says, and his voice is tight. “I’ve thought a lot about this, and… We’ve made a choice, you know?”
“I know,” I say, and instead of responding like I know I should, I’m watching his face and thinking about how the soft light from the moon (or maybe it’s the city lights) makes his brown hair look a shade lighter than it is, and about how I really want to kiss him right now.
“I don’t like it,” he says quietly, as he presses his cheek to my shoulder. “That we can’t tell everyone. I know why we can’t, but… Pictures are a little different, right? That’s why I don’t mind the fan club stuff, or the blog.” He smiles. “Otherwise I’m going to end up doing something I’m not supposed to do. Spilling everything, or worse. Tamacchi would kill me, and… I don’t want that quite yet.” He grins, a little mischievously. “Oh, and I’ve decided on a new design. For the store. You’re going to help me.”
“Me?”
He nods vigorously, and then his face turns serious. “We’re going to collaborate.”
I’m completely speechless, and he laughs.
“It probably won’t be for a while… Next year, maybe-there are a few things going into production already, and with everything going on later this summer and this fall, there’s no way it can happen soon, but… I really want to do it. I want to design something with you.”
“You’re serious.”
“Completely.”
I try to wrap my mind around what he’s saying. “But…our styles are totally different. How…?”
He’s grinning at me, and I can tell, somehow, that this is part of his plan. “I know. It’s going to be great.”
“And you’ve cleared this with-”
“It doesn’t matter. My designs are different. There’s very little involvement from the agency as far as the store goes.”
“Hmm…” I’m still pretty confused as to how this will actually work, but… At the same time, I’m completely flattered. “Okay, fine, let’s do it.”
He stares at me for a moment, and then lets out a long breath. “Well, that’s a relief.” He watches me, and I suddenly wonder if he was nervous. Takashi is never nervous. I stare at him, a little confused.
“I kind of thought you wouldn’t agree,” he admits with a laugh.
“Are you kidding?” My silence is too long, probably, but I’m trying to think of how best to say this. “I’m happy,” I say finally, staring forward. “To be able to do something like this with you. It will be really fun. Thank you, for being willing to work with me.”
“Yeah,” he says, and I watch his face closely.
“Takashi…” I turn to him, and I can’t help but smile. “Are you…blushing?”
He glares at me, and his face is definitely several shades darker than it was a second ago. “No, I’m not.”
“Oh, but I think you are~” I nudge him with my elbow. “Even your ears," I tease. "That’s pretty impressive.”
“Shut up,” he tells me, but then he’s laughing, and slapping my arm. “After that completely girly act you just pulled on me?”
I gasp in disbelief.
He’s imitating me now though, and it’s pretty impressive-he does a great impression of what I imagine I must have looked like, sulking all the way back from the coffee shop.
“Fine, fine. Sorry for being so girly. I won’t let it happen again.”
He’s smiling at me as if he knows something I don’t, and suddenly it’s as if everything I was feeling earlier, all of my doubts and insecurities have been exposed. I feel like an idiot again, and naturally, I have an immediate and overwhelming desire to get rid of this feeling. Turns out, the only way I can think of to do this right now is to kiss him, and so I do.
As my lips are pressed against his, I feel his body relax in my arms, and his pulse quicken against my chest. I’m thinking that he’s right--it’s not very easy at all to see another person. We can do this, no problem, we can lose ourselves in this feeling, or we can lose ourselves on stage, in that combination, but really understanding each other? It’s so much more complicated. He’s been a part of my life for over two years now, and still… So much of him is a complete mystery to me.
His body is warm against mine, and all I want to do is hold him close--to become closer to him, to make this distance smaller, to understand how he can walk out onto stage so fearlessly, but still blush like that in front of me…
And then he kisses me like this and doesn’t stop until it feels as though all of my questions and all of my fears and all of my insecurities have melted into the warmth between our bodies, and when his tongue presses against the roof of my mouth it feels so good that I don’t even care what any of this means anymore.
And when we’re lying in bed later, and he tells me that sometimes he feels like I understand him better than he understands himself, I believe him, even though it’s ridiculous, because tonight, all of his mysteries have somehow faded away into this darkness and this warmth and this kiss, and it makes anything seem possible.
And when I tell him I love him so much that I’m not sure I could stop even if I wanted to, I don’t regret it.
Even in the morning, when the light is streaming into his bedroom and I realize that he’s already gone, and that I’m alone in bed with my thoughts, I don’t regret it. Because sometimes I feel like maybe I actually do see him, and what I see is really, really good, and I want to hold onto it, no matter what.
And so I don’t regret any of it at all--all I want is to see him again.
***