fear her

Akako had been waiting for the perfect moment. They were having a cast party for the occasion, but she wanted to give him her gift quietly. There was less pressure from everyone else that way. She thrust a colorful bag toward him. “Happy birthday, Kaito-kun. I hope you like it.” Nestled inside was a new deck of cards to replace the well-worn ones he sometimes used, as well as a book.

It was her favorite, but she wouldn’t say anything until he read it. It was about magic, and even touched on the stage side of things.

Well, this volume did, anyway. If he liked this one, she owned the rest as well.

((Hap birf Bread!))

Maa, he’s not really a person to announce his birthday, ( oh who was he kidding, he totally was ) but casts were wonderful things, and they were also family. They really didn’t have to host a party, and yet– It felt like too much when he was already getting so much love and attention, but maybe he could use this opportunity to give back.

Akako-chan, however, surprises him with a visit before the party, and he’s saying hello when she thrusts towards a bag– and Kaito takes it, blinking, before breaking out into a grin. Akako-chan was such a shy sweet cinnamon roll.

Inside– a deck of cards, and a book with a title on magic. He immediately takes the deck of cards out– They had such good patterns! – and quickly shapes a triangle after cutting the deck in thirds–

“Akako-chaaaaan….”

It’s cut off by the flood of emotions – “You didn’t have to…” These cards, they feel so nice, the edges cut differently and snapping more easily than the deck he used to use.

Three hours- that’s how long his own scenes take. Nobody’s surprised, really, considering he’s usually a bumbling mess, but maybe there’s also a small thought in his mind making it hard to focus. It’s probably pretty obvious what it is, to the rest of the crew, even if Saguru doesn’t want to admit it.

He finally stumbles out of Set B, tired as all get out and slightly dreading the scenes that he’ll have to film with you. Still, it’s a job he has to do whether he likes it or not, and he creeps into Set A quietly- he’s not sure if you’ve finished filming (you probably have more to shoot than him, all things considered), and doesn’t want to disturb you if you aren’t.

Show him-- show him that you meant it, meant the words, that you really did like him-- he doesn’t want to let you go, and his hands tighten in his pockets. a warm smile is easy to dredge up, and being nice is something he’s attuned to- and matching people’s comfort levels? OK. 

He’s not finished, just for the fact that he seems to be distracted while doing his stunts, and ‘it’s not dynamic enough’ , or  ‘not fluid enough ‘ and when they suggest that they bring in a stunt actor, Kaito snaps a no. One more time. Alright, but last chance, they’ve wasted enough false explosives. People are getting tired, kaito.

Yeah. He knows.

Push out the issues, and even if his body moves reflexively from hours and days of practice, make sure it looks readable on camera. KID had a grace to his movements that barely followed conventional beauty; so haphazard it was. It was Kaito underneath, after all.

And Cut. Alright, next scene.

it’s hot. it’s steaming. sizzling. summer settles with a sigh, the old japanese house groaning and shifting, almost feeling like it was drooping under its weight-- the humidity didn't help as much either, as kaito gulped in air that was water and morosely watched his popsicle dribble to the floor.

it's taking enough energy to keep himself alive and not cooked to death in this heat ( much less use proper capitalization! ) , and he shifts the ice pack on his back as he settled in front of the broken ac.

"Akako-chan," he states, in a dead monotone, already as if he was in his grave and melting into it, "these aren't proper living conditions."  first world problems. "There's gotta be something we can do…"

like the beach. like the beach, like the beach. 

((I don’t think we ever got anything going between our omake dorks anyway.))

“Mhm.” A stagehand calls for him, and he glances over and gives him a wave - I’ll be right there - before looking back at you. “Right. See ya later.”

He hesitates just a bit before giving a small grin; it’s not completely real, but not completely fake, either. It’s smaller than the blindingly bright smiles he used to give you, too, but it’s all he can muster at the moment. “Stay safe.” He doesn’t know how much of your scene involves heavy stunt work, but he at least hopes you won’t get stuck on the hang glider again. “Don’t get hurt.”

And before you can reply, he turns towards Set B and immediately starts a conversation with the  stagehand from before, going over the script and ignoring the fluttering in his stomach for the time being.

A nod, and he visibly melts at your small grin, eyes softening around the corners before he laughs. “I will. And I won’t.” He waves at you, and he’s glad you gave him a small smile at least; for him, it’s a huge victory.  There’s no teasing involved this time, just words of soft affirmation-- he doesn’t need you focusing on something he said when you’re acting.

“No, it’s….it’s fine.” He’ll force himself to be cordial, at least. “Might as well…..I have nothin’ ta do.”

Play it off like a simple meeting, that’s all there is to it; nobody knows any better than the two of them, after all, and he doesn’t want to make a scene just by rejecting a regular outing between friends. It would be weird, uncharacteristic for him.

Or something like that.

He shakes his head when you offer to talk to the director. “Nah, that’d just mess with tha schedule too much. Might as well get it over with, right?” Or so he keeps telling himself; he’d really love nothing more than to get filming (and coffee) over with so he can lock himself in his room again. “I’m ready whenever tha crew is.”

... Or something like that. It’s uncharacteristic of you for him, when he knows what went down yesterday, and perhaps for some members of the crew, where they knew things weren’t too tip top for them for a while ( it’s been nine months. ) “I’m glad, then.” He’ll be cordial back, laughing a bit in happiness. It’s not forced for him- but it does feel like he may be over stepping boundaries.

“It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve totally messed up schedule.” He laughs, bumping you lightly with the script. “I think the crew is almost ready. Maybe I’ll see you later? And for hot chocolate after.” 

“…..yeah.” He doesn’t know why he agrees; maybe it’s force of habit, but he can’t say no. “Sounds good ta me.”

He just listens quietly, trying to ignore how much your smile makes the butterflies in his stomach act up. He’s supposed to be falling out of love with you, not getting stuck in the same rut as before.

“How ‘bout Akako-chan?” He’s scared of being alone with you, as embarrassing as it sounds. Even with everybody on set, when it’s just you and him on stage, it feels….different. Almost intimate. “Does she have anythin’ today?”

He’s quiet. The warm smile still lingers, but he’s careful, this time around.. “If you want to say no, just say no.” Your hesitation isn’t glossed over, and he isn’t going to pressure you into something you didn’t want. Cautious. Baby steps. “You can always cancel, okay?”

He looks contemplative at your question, smile sliding off for a moment to a frown. “I think she’s on set today. I’m not sure if she has a scene, though. I’ll ask the director if we can film together at a different time if you want.” He’ll ask, but he’s not sure if it’ll be approved.

He’s surprised at the way you greet him- he was expecting….what was he expecting? Coldness? He’d hope not, but definitely not the warmness he’s feeling now. He hurts a little, actually, even as his cheeks light up a bit, but he won’t think about that now.

“Mmn.” Didn’t fall asleep until one, woken up by texts at three, but he won’t tell you that. “S'cold.” He looks down at his own script, frowning and talking to you even as he doesn’t look at you. “What’s tha plan fer today?”

He looks too focused on his script to realize you’re blushing; “looks” being the key word, there’s a small flutter of hope-- but also perhaps it was the wind from outside that bit you on your way here.

Maybe it hurts a little. He hopes it won’t hurt more. He doesn’t want to quite let you go; if he knew, he’d want to do anything to soothe you over.

He’s still warm smiles as you avoid looking at him-- “It really is, they should turn the heater up in here. Maybe we can grab some hot chocolate before you go home, then, if you want to.” It’s a light suggestion, free to be turned down. “I won’t take offense if you say no.” ... But just clarifying, just in case.

“Mm, we’re doing the filler episode, today, so... I think we’re filming our solo acts, first, then us together later. Aoko’s busy, so we’ll have to shoot that one another day.”

He gets the message - of course he does, he’s a masochist so of course he wouldn’t block you. He didn’t respond, though. What would he say? Nothing sincere, probably. Maybe a scathing remark that he doesn’t mean.

He just stares at the words, hoping he doesn’t cry and- oh, hoping his eyes aren’t red when he wakes up. He won’t say anything tomorrow; maybe he’ll pretend that he did block you, and that he never got the messages.

Because he still doesn’t knew what to say, and that might be even worse than saying what he wants to.

That’s exactly what he does the next morning when arriving on set, greeting you without any indication that he received a text in the slightest. He’s not cold, but he’s not exactly warm either. It’s a neutral greeting, as if you were nothing more than an acquaintance to him.

“Mornin’, Kaito-kun.”

Still, it’s strained.

He didn’t expect any indication in the morning, either. Even if he’d checked his phone screen every time it’d vibrated, he’d had squashed all his tentative hopes that it might be you-- this wasn’t the time for you to reach out, it was more like time for him to give you space, and maybe hold your hand if you ever felt ready.

“Morning.” There’s a warm smile on his face, more genuine than the simple cheerful one he’d have given out on usual-- less pure excitement, but rather just a soft gladness that you were here.

That hurts, and Saguru honestly doesn’t know why. He should be happy that you’re letting him push you away- he doesn’t see the determination in your eyes, but maybe it’s for the better.

He never wanted to push you away for good, regardless of what it may have looked like to you. He had been scared, not of you, but of rejection- but he supposes there’s not much difference, in the end. It’s too late to explain now, anyways, and he just breathes out.

“Okay.”

There’s not much else to say. Saguru doesn’t even know what he’s agreeing to himself, honestly, only that he wants to leave, to turn around and not look back, and hopefully take the next few years to forget how much he’d been hurt.

He hesitates a second. “I’ll see ya on set tomorrow.” It’s not proof that he wants to see Kaito again. It’s an inevitable truth. Until they finish the series, he’s forced to see you again and again, whether he likes it or not. He just hasn’t figured out if he likes it or not yet.

“…..sorry fer bein’ a bother.”

And he turns to leave.

It probably is for the better. You didn’t want to push him away, and-- neither did he. He has no intention to let you push him away; especially if you didn’t want it, yourself. He just watches you, eyes flicking up to your neck; a slight improvement from your chest, but still not meeting your eyes. 

“I’ll see you.” He can’t help the bit of sadness that leaks in, despite his better judgement. There’s no response to the self depreciation, hanging his head and closing his eyes instead; there were no words he could offer to cover up that scar. 

you'll get a text around 3 A.M. ; if you hadn’t blocked his number. There’s no need to reply; he isn’t expecting one, though it’d be a pleasant surprise.

“No.”

He pulls back his hands again, flinching with his entire body. He can’t believe your words, and he doesn’t trust you enough to let you take actions- he lets you into his heart, then what? You realize you’re wrong and leave him all over again?

“Ya’ve showed me enough, Kaito-kun.” And in a way, you have. Your indecisiveness, your insecurities……it may not have been your intention, but all he can see is the way you hurt him while trying to protect yourself, and he can see how much more it would hurt to get back to where you once were, much less be more, and it’s not worth it.

The chance to love you just isn’t worth the risk.

He breathes in, takes a moment to clear his mind. “Ya don’t hafta make yerself do anythin’ fer my sake. Jus’……take care a’ yerself, Kaito-kun.”

He tries not to sound bitter, he honestly does, but when it feels like that’s all you’ve been doing, he can’t help but be a little sour.

That word hurts more than he lets on, hiding a wince behind silence, eyes dropping down immediately-- letting you slip out of his grasp and letting his arms hang to the side. Maybe you could have seen the hurt by how his hands minutely jerked -- as if to clench his fist but trained instincts overriding it; wanting to cross his arms, but also not.

His gaze fixes itself on your chest again, trying to listen to you but with a wall around himself; unwilling to open another door by looking into your eyes. 

He hurt you, and this isn’t the answer. He’s trying, but he’d started too late. Maybe he did deserve this, after all.

“.. I won’t stop you from leaving, if you want to.” 

It’s soft, soft, almost defeated, hesitant. Should he give you space? Probably. If he says anything more at this point... he feels like it wouldn’t be genuine. As much as he would have liked to laugh this off, this wasn’t the time and place for his usual antics. His fight isn’t with you, as a person.

He won’t ask you for another chance-- he’d used them all. But that didn’t mean he was giving up-- that just wasn’t programmed into him. He didn’t get where he was by letting people push him around; even if he had been indecisive up to this point, maybe he could fix it.

“If you’re planning to never see me again... I’ll miss you, then.” 

It is hypocritical of you, and it’s the hypocrisy that leaves him speechless. All he’s heard from you these pasts months have been give me time; I’m sorry I can’t love you; stop running away. Now, he isn’t sure what to think, when you’re suddenly opening up to him and-

And what? When you say what he’s wanted to hear for months now, only after making him the most miserable person on the planet? He can’t trust you. He wants to trust you - no matter how mad he is, there’s that part of him that honestly still wants you to love him back - but he can’t. You’ve left scars from your indecision, whether you know it or not, ones that will take more than words to heal.

“Bein’ sorry never fixed anythin’,” he mutters finally, refusing to look you in the eye. “An’ neither did lyin’. Maybe yer right, maybe ya do only like me cause I like ya back, ‘cause apparently ya never once liked me before all this. So thanks fer tellin’ me what I wanted ta hear, but no thanks.”

Was it something like the boy who cried wolf? Except he’d never said the truth, so when he did, there was just no evidence to support it. He did ask you to stop running away. And now, when you did--

“Yeah, sorry, being sorry doesn’t really fix anything.” An echo, repeating words, gaze unfocused on your chest, but looking up to see you looking away. “It’s not a lie, though. Even if you can’t believe me, it’s not a lie. ” He’s trying not to hide, to tell you the truth, after how many months of pain you’ve went through, reaching out for your hands again--  but hesitating, unsure if he’s welcome to, and keenly aware that he was most likely not.

( Words, words, words. What’s the matter, my lord? Between who? )

( Hamlet said it to joust and ridicule-- words were shallow, twisted, and -- )