#mikaoru

functionally, their fervent codependence is what tears them apart however it’s also what makes them…. mikaoru so 1. i, personally, wouldnt want to disrupt that and 2. you’re not fucking fixing that if you tried. my attack plan in light of that would be improving quality of life within the context of that hardcoded dynamic, essentially as a form of harm reduction. communication between them would be my foremost area of focus as i think that while their understanding of eachother is immensely pure and guileless, the way they interact with eachother is muddied by social expectations and role performance. you see this specifically when orga tells biscuit that he “always has to be the cool orga” when talking about his responsibility to mika and the weight of his loyalty. it’s that persistent need to front that causes orga to place them and others in danger, and mika feeds into it by letting orga alone call the shots (until he doesnt, cough cough hashmal arc), so i think an earnest conversation about why orga has been deemed the de facto decision maker and if it’s sustainable would do… something. again, i really dont want to fix these guys so my heart wouldnt be in this

now on the mika side, i’d want to work on his emotion identification. i feel like he holds a lot of (justified) anger towards orga that he either suppresses or sublimates until it becomes frankly threatening (“i’m sorry, orga, but i can’t stop”). being able to at least pressure valve that through mika telling orga outright when he’s pissed would go a long way to convey to orga when he’s actually being a failure as opposed to orga’s assumed “all the time.” furthermore, this addresses mika’s impulse to double down on his commitments to orga at the detriment of his own wellbeing after orga fails his end of the bargain which sends crazy mixed signals and is usually rugpulled when some part of mika realizes he regrets this. they both waffle on how dedicated to each other they are, which creates this really interesting/messy picture of constant emotional incentive with no baseline consistency

That expression is an exact replica of the one on the poster, the only difference being that this time he can actually observe Orga’s eyes. His brightened, golden irises appear to be a bit hazy from the intense running, and within those eyes is a look of awkwardness and embarrassment that Mikazuki has never seen before. That strange, perplexing emotion resurfaces and slithers along and up his spine.

Mikazuki’s hand freezes in mid-air.

“I’m sorry, Mika…” Orga’s breathing is still uneven, and so he can only continue in bits and pieces, “Please… that thing you just saw… just… forget about it!”

“Uh…” A troubled expression emerges on Mikazuki’s face. Usually, whatever Orga has asked him to do, he’d try his best to achieve it; however, this time… “I’m sorry, Orga. It seems… I can’t do it.”

“…Eh?” Orga’s mouth widens, speechless.

“That side of Orga… is difficult to forget…” Mikazuki admits in a frank tone, his gaze lowering to the ground.

To be honest, he should be long used to seeing Orga’s naked body — inside the football team’s locker room, whenever they visit the public baths together, in their shared, non-air-conditioned apartment during the hottest summer days. It had been nothing out of the ordinary during those times, but this is something entirely different.

No matter what, he cannot wash away the image of Orga on that advertisement poster from his mind. Is he broken somewhere inside?

Orga’s face displays a hint of despair as he squeezes his eyes close and turns his head away.

“That sort of outrageous and undignified appearance… You must be… pretty damn disappointed, huh?”

“Not at all.” The dark-haired youngster shakes his head fiercely, and his gaze returns to his companion’s face. “It’s just…” He cannot find any fitting words or phrases.

During times like this, he especially admires the way Orga can use such a variety of sentences and adjectives to describe one lively and fascinating story after another, being able to accurately express his characters’ emotions with the most appropriate wording.

Yet it’s impossible for him to even properly describe his current feelings.

“It’s just…” Mikazuki repeats once more, and then pauses. He stares at Orga’s face from the side as he anxiously entangles himself in a game of hide-and-seek with the perfect adjective in his head.

At this moment, Orga turns towards him, his cheeks still tinting red and his topaz irises staring straight at him with deep concern.

Mikazuki gives up on logic and reasoning, just simply reaches out with both of his hands and cradles the other man’s face before pressing his lips against Orga’s.

The moment Mikazuki’s lips touches his own, Orga’s brain crashes for the second time that day.

“That side of Orga is very adorable!” As if he’s stolen Orga’s ability to poetically express himself through the kiss, Mikazuki finally finds the descriptive phrase he’s been searching for, but the way he phrases it is still the typical Mikazuki-style: concise and sharp.

As for the man who’s had his ability stolen, his power to speak has also been lost.

Orga’s memory after that becomes a bit blurry; he has no idea how he got on the public transit, walked up the stairs, and entered their residence.

When they finally return to the small apartment that let them both feel at ease, Orga steps into his bedroom, shuts the door behind him, and gradually slides down onto the floor with his back against the door and his head in his hands. His tall stature curls into a tight ball of nerves, his face burrowed between his knees.

And then he soundlessly screams.

‘Dear— God —!’

-

Having maintained his cocoon position in the darkened room for god knows how long, Orga hears someone knocking on his door.

Knocking is merely a polite gesture, and since the door is unlocked, it’s pushed open immediately.

Mikazuki sticks his head in to look around, and notices that the light in the bedroom is not on, either.

“Already asleep?” He murmurs to himself, but realizes that the bed is empty. “Eh? Orga?” He blindly searches for the light switch by the door and flicks it on. Only then does he discover the tall young man curled up in one corner of the room, as if he’s pretending to be a silkworm readying himself for metamorphosis.

“Ah… Mika?” The sudden onslaught of brightness momentarily blinds him, and Orga raises his arm to shield his eyes while glancing towards the doorway at his roommate. “You haven’t gone to bed yet?”

It’s probably past midnight now, isn’t it? He looks at the clock, which indicates that it’s fifteen minutes to twelve o’clock.

“You didn’t come out of your room, and I got a bit worried, so I just want to check up on you before going to sleep.” Mikazuki appears to have already washed up, donned in his pajamas and his hair still a bit wet from the shower.

“Uh… It’s nothing, just… I just wanted to calm myself down a bit…” The silver-haired young man rests his head on his knees again and stares at the wall before him. A moment later, he starts, his voice a little coarse, “You know… Mikazuki…”

“What?”

“That… Just now… Was that a joke?” He doesn’t dare look at him, his gaze still firmly focused on a specific spot on the wall as he asks.

“Just now?” Mikazuki blanks out for a second, and then suddenly says, “Oh, you mean when I kissed you?”

For whatever reason, Mikazuki’s easy and casual tone makes Orga feel a slight pang inside, but he nods forcefully regardless.

“It wasn’t a joke,” the dark-haired youth says in a calm yet undeniable voice, and steps into the room. He walks to where Orga is and kneels down before him, “I can’t quite describe it, but Orga, you looked really lovely then.”

The lanky youth who’s just been praised as ‘lovely’ suddenly raises his head, his cheeks quickly tinted red. Slightly frowning, he returns his gaze to the face of the boy before him.

“When Orga looked at me that way, my brain just stopped functioning,” Mikazuki continues, not a trace of hesitation in his blue eyes, “so I just naturally went for the kiss. Is… is that not okay?” When the question comes out, he finally shows a hint of confusion. Things like kissing should only be done between a boy and a girl — Mikazuki still has some common sense in that regard, at least.

Orga’s throat makes a noise, and then he’s hiding his face against his arm while stuttering in a muffled voice. “T-This…”

“But even now, I still have that same feeling…” The young man’s clear voice seems more subdued and hoarser than usual as he leans forward, both hands flanking the sides of Orga’s legs. He shuffles closer, his face nearing Orga’s forehead. “Hey Orga, is there something wrong with me?”

As if an electrifying current has run through his spine, Orga feels his breathing stutter, and when he looks up once more, his gaze meets with Mikazuki’s intensely blue ones. His hair still smells of the lavender shampoo he uses, and his breath has a waft of mint from the toothpaste; the pleasant combination of these scents is enough to intoxicate Orga.

“I’m the one… who has something wrong,” he croaks, lifting his left hand and placing it on Mikazuki’s cheek. There’s only a thin layer of breath between their lips, “I’m really… getting out of line…”

Mikazuki doesn’t wait for him to continue.  

Unlike the mere close-mouthed kiss that they shared on the street from before, his lips are slightly parted as his tongue darts out to lick Mikazuki’s lower lip. Mikazuki understands the implication immediately and opens his mouth in return, allowing the other man to invade the insides with his tongue, suck on his lip, lick against his teeth, his upper jaw, or letting their tongues tangle to invite the other to do the same.

It’s not difficult for Mikazuki, who can quickly learn anything as long as he puts his mind to it, to naturally master such a modest skill. Soon, he’s able to regain the initiative of the kiss; he even presses Orga’s back against the wall behind him.

He doesn’t notice when he has his hands on Orga’s knees as he nudges his legs apart so that it opens up a small gap for his lithe frame to slip in between when he shifts forward. Their bodies lightly brush against each other’s due to their delicate movements; they can both sense each other’s hearts beating and thrumming hard and fast through the contact of their skin.

Settling close, Mikazuki’s hand slides along Orga’s slender legs through the material of his pants until he reaches Orga’s upper thigh.

This movement is going slightly beyond Orga’s limit, and he struggles to grab hold of Mikazuki’s wrist, forcing himself to turn his head away from the kiss and gasping out, “W-wait, Mika.”

“Wait for what?” The passionate kisses paint a shade of pink across Mikazuki’s snowy-white skin. He stares innocently at Orga’s reddened lips, kiss-swollen and wet, before he leans his body forward again, wanting to continue what they’ve been doing.

“B-Before we do something like this, we should… um… should, that’s right, we should first calm down,” he mumbles incoherently, his hands braced on Mikazuki’s shoulders to make sure he remains at arm’s length.

“…Impossible.” Mikazuki attempts to adjust his breathing, but his body is like a wind-up string on a bow, and so he won’t be able to comply with Orga’s request.

“Let me finish first…” the silver-haired youth steadfastly grips onto the other man’s shoulders and ducks his head, “I still…”

“Do you not like this, Orga?” he freezes, and his gaze drops down in dismay.

“No, that’s not it,” Orga shakes his head in chagrin. Speaking of body reactions, his current situation isn’t any better, but… “I don’t know… how I should face you if we were to keep going with this.”

“Why?” Mikazuki’s eyes widen, glancing at him with a perplexed expression.

“That advertisement — that sort of ridiculous and shameful appearance… I didn’t plan on letting you see that side of me at all…” Orga retrieves one of his hands and covers his face, his gaze straying away from Mikazuki’s face. He can’t possibly look directly into the other man’s eyes while he’s saying these words. “That… image was the photographer’s deliberate intent to evoke the audiences’ feelings. So, if you wanted… to do that now… um… there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s my fault.”

“Orga…”

“However, if this is merely your momentary desire…” his shoulders become taut and rigid as he bites his lip, desperate fingers seizing his own hair, “after that, I have absolutely no idea… what kind of an expression I should confront you with in the end…”

Mikazuki’s mouth opens, but no words come out. He hasn’t even considered this kind of question before, let alone being able to give a reply.

He shuffles back and sits on his heels, allowing his lust-addled brain to calm down a little.  

The atmosphere in the room becomes stiflingly heavy.

The first to interrupt this silence is the clock’s clang signifying midnight.

“It’s already Christmas, huh?” Orga lifts his head to glance at the clock on the wall, and feeling a sense of guilt, he returns his gaze back to Mikazuki, who remains seated on the floor, his head lowered in deep thought. It’s all because of his immaturity that causes Mikazuki to fall into such a dilemma. “Sorry, Mika,” he apologizes in a pained tone. Under normal circumstances, he would already be ruffling his hair or enveloping him in an embrace, but now, he’s afraid to initiate the simplest of physical contacts. “I’ve screwed up this Christmas eve. I’m really sorry. You should go back to your room and sleep.”

“Orga,” Mikazuki lifts his head, his face returning to his usual impassiveness, but his irises contain a different array of colours, “I want you, Orga, and it’s not just a momentary desire either.”

“Eh…?” The silver-haired youth’s body stiffens.

“I’ve always wanted you — always. But I’ve been so stupid and never realized,” his eyes are half-masted, the shadows of his lashes darkening the blue of his irises, “You’ve always been by my side, smiling at me, satisfying my every whim, and forgiving me even when I’ve done stupid things… And so it becomes natural to feel that Orga belongs to me and I thought that I understand everything about you.”

Orga wants to say something, but discovers that his voice has stopped working again.

“So, the moment I saw that photo… at first, I was really shocked, and then I was a bit… pissed off?” He tilts his head slightly to the side, trying to think of a more appropriate word.

“Pissed off… huh?” Orga lowers his head and heaves a sigh, “of course, that sort of shameful appearance has disappointed you, hasn’t it?”

“No way! It’s because… no one has ever seen that side of Orga before, and I wasn’t the first to get to see you that way, even though I’m the one closest to you…” As he’s telling him this, Mikazuki gradually relaxes his fingers from the fist he’s formed. “After that, my brain started acting very strangely…” He puts his hand on the floor and braces himself as he leans forward, quietly approaching Orga.

“I… want you, Orga,” he murmurs once more, one hand placed on the young man’s knee, “If I’ve realized this sooner, I would’ve been the first person to see that side of Orga…” At this point, his tone has become that of a child’s whiny complaint.

But with every sentence and every word culminating into heat that gathers in Orga’s abdomen, his breathing quickens and becomes uneven.

“Hey, Orga…” Mikazuki’s voice is coming from somewhere too close, his hands are already braced against the other man’s chest, the blue in his eyes darkening from desire, “…can we?”

Orga breathes in deeply, burying his face in his palms.

‘I’m such an idiot!’ he scolds himself silently.

When he pulls his hands away from his face, he sees Mikazuki staring at him, his face uncharacteristically nervous. He wants to say something, yet every time he tries to open his mouth, nothing intelligible will come out. Seeing as Mikazuki grows more and more uneasy almost to the point of looking like he’s in despair, Orga finally clenches his jaw and points a finger at the bed adjacent to them.

“L-let’s get on the bed,” his face reddens and says, abashed, “the floor is too hard…”

-

Using a huge chunk of the paycheque he’s received, Orga orders a computer with a set of advance hardware that Mikazuki has been thinking of buying for the longest time; he’s also purchased a Christmas tree and some decoration trinkets, which they have never had a chance to acquire in previous years. Even after his uncharacteristic shopping splurge, there’s still an excessive amount left.

So he decides to make a reservation at a rather classy restaurant that has been rated fairly well online and has an excellent dinner with Mikazuki on Christmas evening.

Stepping out from the restaurant, the two of them stroll shoulder-to-shoulder along the street filled richly with the atmosphere of the holiday season. As he observes the pairs of pedestrians that come and go, Mikazuki suddenly exclaims, “From a glance, don’t we also seem like a pair of lovers?”

“Wha––“ Orga chokes on his own spit and coughs for an embarrassingly long while before he can breathe normally again, and he stares horrifyingly at the youngster beside him. “There are things you shouldn’t joke about, Mika!”

Despite what he’s said, his brain can only insistently remember the words of that photographer woman in the studio at the time, ‘Make an all-out effort at Christmas!’

‘Whatever!’ He can’t help but mutter angrily at himself.

“But you’ve put in a lot of effort this Christmas, Orga. It almost seems suspicious, as if you have some ulterior motives…” Mikazuki looks towards him with a small smile.

“Well you know, it’s because I’ve received a good amount of royalties this month. Our financial situation has always been dreadful and we couldn’t spend much over the last couple of Christmases, so I thought I’d just recompense all that this year.” Orga’s face reddens slightly, and then turns his head to the side to look at the shop windows on the other side of the street, pretending to be interested in whatever’s happening behind the glass display.

“Mm, I feel really happy this Christmas, and the food was delicious.” Mikazuki senses the other man’s bashfulness, and so he, too, retracts his penetrating gaze and glances towards the busy traffic on the road, “But as long as Orga is by my side, I’ll feel happy every Christmas.”

Ah… This kind of atmosphere between them now – it’s not any more different than with those shared between lovers, Orga can’t help but think as he looks at the image of the two of them together through the blurry reflection on the display windows.

‘Make an all-out effort at Christmas!’ Merribit’s devilish voice echoes within his mind again. He squeezes his eyes close and takes in a deep breath – he needs to be as calm as the mirror surface of a lake.

At this exact moment, Mikazuki’s hand suddenly holds on to Orga’s own by his side. The contact startles him.

“Orga, hey, Orga,” Mikazuki’s voice seems slightly different than usual, which causes Orga to turn and look at his face properly. Then, he discovers that Mikazuki’s usually impassive face is covered with an astounded expression, “That… is that you, Orga?” He asks this strange question as he points towards the center of the road.

“Huh?” Orga, with a sense of peculiarity, looks towards the direction that the other man is pointing at.

Along the road and among the slow-moving traffic, there’s a double-decker bus that has caught their attention.

On top of the blue-black paint job of the vehicle is a gigantic printed advertisement.

“Eh?” Orga blinks.

To be precise, that advertisement is marketing undergarments.

“Ehhh?”

To be even more precise, it’s an advertisement marketing male undergarments – the advertisement for the new posh brand within the realm of undergarment fashion.

“Ehhhhhh––!”

With the blue-black background as its backdrop, a tanned-skinned model donning only a pair of black briefs is standing with his back and right hand pressed up against the wall, his left hand having lifted up to cover his face. The lines of his muscles along his body, stretched by the placement of his arms, elegantly run down to his waist where, along with his Adonis belt, they disappear behind the irritating piece of clothing. As for the model’s face, though the upper half has been blocked by his left arm, but the strong line of his jaw, those slightly parted lips, and the cheeks that have been darkened by blush all contribute to a sense of coyness that encourages viewers’ wild imagination.

The physique is that of a mature man’s, yet through the half-shown flushed face, displaying the impression of bashfulness that makes the audiences’ blood run hotly, the advertisement has created a wave of excitement for the viewers.

That’s correct. It just has to be the undergarment advertisement that Orga, having casted away his dignity, participated in so that he could earn some quick money.

“That’s… definitely… Orga, isn’t it?” Mikazuki’s shocked gaze flickers between the ad on the bus and his companion standing by his side. The way the model’s left arm is angled doesn’t allow Mikazuki to see whether or not his bicep bears the same scar that Orga has, but even without the scar, Mikazuki can recognize the body of his roommate. And in combination with Orga’s stiffened reaction, Mikazuki is even more certain of his conclusion.

“Hadn’t it been agreed upon that they’ll only print it in magazines!?” After the initial shock and when he can think clearly again, Orga’s extremely painful and sorrowful cries resound through the streets.

-

“Oh… a gift for Mikazuki…” It suddenly dawns on the long-haired editor, and he releases a breath, “and here I thought you’ve gotten yourself into trouble.”

“…What were you imagining?”

“You don’t want to know,” Naze flashes him a mysterious grin, and he steers them back to the original subject before Orga can open his mouth again, “But anyway, there isn’t much in terms of any urgent contracted work.”

“Is that so?” The silver-haired youth’s shoulders slump in slight disappointment. “I guess I’ll just have to stick with some temp work.”

“I could introduce you to some normal part-time gigs.”

“Eh?!”

“If you don’t mind selling your body, the money comes in pretty quick.”

The excitement on Orga’s face immediately freezes still, and then his expression darkens, and he lowers his voice to ask in embarrassment, “Do you mean… selling organs?”

“Pfft!” Naze spits out the mouthful of coffee that he’s just been sipping. “Why would you have such a horrifying imagination? Who do you think I am?!”

“Editor by day; mafia member responsible for selling human body parts by night.”

“Is that a plot twist for your new novel?”

“Nope. I’ve had that feeling ever since the first time I met Naze-san.”

“What?!”

“…So, not selling organs then?”

“You’re a writer, at any rate. Whoever taught you that ‘selling your body’ means ‘selling your organs’?”

“So what you mean is…?”

“Ah, you…” Naze rubs his forehead; he specifically used that term, planning to mislead Orga on purpose and to make fun of him. The result, however, has been twisted into something that’s completely not of this dimension. “It’s a part-time modelling job – for an underwear print ad.”

“…Oh, so that’s what it is. I supposed that’s also selling one’s body, to a certain degree…” Orga lowers his head, deep in thought. His serious expression is causing Naze to want to flick the young man’s forehead again. “I have no problem with this sort of work.”

“Really? And here I thought you’d refuse out of embarrassment.”

“Why would I refuse? It’s not like the job itself involves any illegal or self-mutilating activities.”

“…Honestly, what kind of person do you even take me for? It’s all law-breaking and organ-selling to you, isn’t it?”

“Mafia…”

“Shut up!”

Orga shuts his mouth accordingly, and with his right eye blinked closed thoughtfully, he begins again, “But I’ve never been a model before.”

“I doubt there’ll be any problem with your body build, since your physique and facial features look nothing like a writer’s…” Heaving a sigh, Naze slaps the firm lower back of the young man who has a few centimeters over him, “Putting a candid author photo in your books is always a source of headache for me!”

“Are you blaming me?”

“I won’t know whether or not you’ll be hired, but it doesn’t hurt to try?”

“Then… I’ll be relying on your help.” Without much hesitation, Orga gives a slight, frank bow towards his editor. “When do we need to go?”

“Now.”

“Hah?”

“Don’t tell me you have something planned after this?”

“Well, no… But shouldn’t I make some preparations before the audition?”

“Preparations for what? Just take off your clothes when you get there. Follow me – Amida’s model agency is just two blocks away.”

“Naze-san, you actually just want to find an excuse to skip work, don’t you?”

“What are you talking about? I’m just showing my concern for our company’s author.”

-

When they arrive outside of the studio, they see a few fairly well-built male models wrapped in winter jackets cussing as they step out of the building. It seems like they have failed the audition.

With their minds filled to the brim with curiosity, they enter the studio just in time to hear the exchange between Amida and her client.

“You’ve rejected all of our models today, Merribit-san. At this rate, we’ll never finish the shoot in time,” the bronze-skinned woman sighs, exuding beauty and a touch of maturity even in her helpless expression as she rests her chin in her hand.

“The brand has asked me to do this shoot, so I can’t possibly deliver photographs that fail to make people feel anything, right?” The woman who replies in turn has short, blond hair and dons a clean-cut, professional suit; in addition to her soft and subtle make-up, she’s portrayed as a highly proficient woman.

“I’ve been telling you – the emotion you want is too difficult to grasp.”

“I think it’s simple enough. Since it’s an advertisement selling underwear, isn’t it obvious that the viewers’ emotions should be evoked?” The woman named Merribit stares at the camera in her hands, and continues in a leisurely tone, “All those models from before – even though their physiques are not bad – but do you feel anything when you look at them, Amida?”

“The only person who can make me feel like that is my darling.”

“Naze-san’s type is not my cup of tea.”

“Oi, oi, oi! The subject of your discussion is right behind you!” Naze coughs, interrupting the two women’s lively conversation before the topic becomes increasingly inappropriate.

The two professional women turn their heads. Amida looks towards Naze with a smile, “Darling, is it really all right for you to skip work and come here in broad daylight?”

“I’m here to help you find new resources for your project, dear.” Naze offers his most sincere smile and the perfect excuse to skip work.

“Do you mean the youngster standing behind you?” She raises one of her eyebrows and glances over at the young man behind her husband, “Orga, what’s gotten into you?”

She has met Orga at Naze’s office a few times in the past, so she knows that the man is actually a novelist under Naze’s care. Even though he’s not considered to be extremely popular, he does have a fixed fan base. There is no reason for him to suddenly switch career to become a model.

“Since it’ll be Christmas soon, he needs to earn some quick money.” Naze gives a straightforward and simple explanation for Orga. “Well? It won’t hurt to give him a chance to audition, right? Besides, it seems you still haven’t found the model you want yet.”

“Well…” Amida gives her difficult client a meaningful glance.

“I hope you’re not suggesting that we use an amateur for this modelling job?” Merribit rests her left hand against the back of a chair as she looks over the dark-skinned, silver-haired youth with an appraising stare, the corner of her lips lifting into a teasing grin.

Hearing this, Orga unconsciously purses his lips and frowns, his shoulders tense up, but he refrains from saying anything to refute.

In fact, there’s nothing for him to refute; it’s true that he’s an amateur. It’s just that he dislikes the way it comes out of the woman’s mouth.

“Eh? Isn’t this an ad for underwear? It’s fine as long as he’s got an excellent physique, right? Look –– ” As if to prove his own point, Naze reaches over and lifts up the hem of the youth’s shirt, exposing parts of his abdominal muscles and Adonis belt for the two women to observe.

Of course, Orga quickly pulls his shirt back down as he complains with reddened cheeks, “This should count as sexual harassment, Naze-san!”

“You’ll have to take everything off except for your underwear in your audition later. How will you deal with it if you’re already this embarrassed?” Naze asks with an expression that’s more surprised than the one being harassed.

“Even so, I don’t need your help!... Anyway, didn’t that lady already say that she doesn’t want to use an amateur?” He glances at Merribit once before turning his head away as if he’s indifferent either way, and he straightens his shirt before saying, “I’ll look for other work.”

Merribit, who has maintained a calm, smiling mask throughout this entire conversation, stares at Orga for a brief moment, slightly tilting her head to the side, and says, “Indeed. If having a good physique is the only requirement, then a lot of those men from before would have been recruited.”

“I get it. Sorry for the trouble.” Orga quickly says without much emotion, and shoulders his messenger bag, ready to leave.

“Besides, I’ve only said that you’re an amateur, but I’ve never mentioned anything about not using amateurs.”

“…?” Orga halts his steps and turns his head to stare at the blond-haired professional woman, confused by the meaning of her words.

“If it’s just an audition, since we’ve already seen so many people, it won’t matter if we see another one,” Merribit casually says, her smile vanishing as she re-enters her work mindset. She walks to stand in front of the tripod and points towards the site already set up with a background and reflector panels, “Take off your clothes and stand there.”

“…?” Due to Merribit’s unexpected change of mind, Orga, who’s still stunned frozen, glances over at Naze helplessly.  

Naze can only shrug his shoulders with exasperation in response, and he tilts his head as he asks, “Well? Need a hand with those clothes?”

“…I’ll do it myself!”

Even though it’s December, but since it’s been a warm winter so far, in addition to the fact that Orga isn’t sensitive to the cold in the first place, so all he’s wearing is a jacket, a long-sleeved t-shirt, and a pair of jeans.

After quickly shedding off his three pieces of clothing, he walks to the front of the camera with a hint of hesitation.

“Hmm… As a novelist, you sure have a pretty good physique…” Amida comments, tapping her index finger against her chin.

Despite the fact that they’ve seen each other a couple of times before, she never has a chance to observe Orga’s body since it’s always covered by a loose-fitting jacket. She just presumes that even with his tall stature, his figure is most likely the slim type.

His body can in fact be considered as the muscular type. Fortunately, his lanky figure and dark-toned skin have helped reduce the sense of burden and stoutness caused by his hard muscles; the symmetry and firmness of his muscles reveal a balanced elegance that’s full of vitality.

Ah, that damned Darling. He’s had a young lad with such potential tuck hidden all this time and only brings him to her now. Amida can’t help but think bitterly; if he’d started training earlier, then perhaps he’ll be able to pass this audition successfully. What a shame…

“Just a tad bit too green*. If he can’t let go… I suppose it won’t work.” The shortcoming of an amateur is obvious. She heaves out a sigh and looks over to the blond-haired photographer standing behind the camera, her brows drawn together in a slight frown and lips in a firm line.

“Orga-san… is it?” Merribit, who’s been carefully adjusting the lens of her camera, suddenly calls out the silver-haired young man’s name. Amida has only mentioned his name once, and she remembers. She lifts her head and looks at the youth standing uncomfortably before the camera; she smiles a little, and with a clear but slightly lowered, mature voice, she tells him, “I only have one requirement: it doesn’t matter how you want to do it, just try to evoke my ‘sexual’ interest.” She adds a little emphasis towards the end of her statement.

“Eh?” Orga freezes, and when he finally comprehends the meaning of her request after a few seconds, his face flushes red. He rubs the back of his neck in an agitated manner as he turns his face away from the camera. “I mean… I’m sorry. I… don’t have that sort of experience, so I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do…”

“Ah…This is not working at all…” Watching from the sidelines, Naze smacks his own forehead and helplessly stares up at the ceiling. In his mind, he’s already decided to help Orga find some other jobs that are legal and safe for his wellbeing; it’s just that the money won’t flow as quickly.

However, what he hasn’t realized is that it’s precisely Orga’s blushing shyness and awkward, embarrassed expression that has flipped on the strange switch residing within the two mature women’s hearts.

“Ah…so that’s it…” The first one to recover is Merribit. The photographer lifts up her hand, a delicate finger pressing against her lips as she lowers her head and murmurs in a lowered register that only she can hear, “The feeling of green and inexperienced… Turns out that’s the key to success? Hmm… The contrast of a full-grown, mature body versus a youthful and awkward mentality… So that’s it…”

“Merribit, what is it?” Amida seems to have observed this same point as well, and she casts a brightened glance over at her client.

“I finally know how I want to approach this project!” The blond-haired woman claps her hands together and eyes towards Orga, who still doesn’t understand what’s going on and, discouraged, is readying himself to leave the studio at any moment. “Orga-san! Do you have any other plans for the rest of today?”

“Eh…? N-No…”

“Then let’s strike while the iron’s hot and finish this photoshoot.”

“Hah? Hold on… Do you mean…?”

“You passed.” The blond-haired photographer announces simply, and waves to signal her assistants. “I’ll have someone prepare the underwear that you’ll be wearing in this shoot. It’ll probably be quite late by the time we’re done, so I’ll have them prepare dinner as well. “

“W-wait a minute. Are we really in such a hurry?”

“Your size?”

“Hey… Listen properly when someone’s talking…” Orga’s shoulders slump down weakly, and he can’t help but mutter to himself, “That’s why women are so impossible to understand… Honestly…”

“Even though I have no idea what happened, but… isn’t it great that you’ve passed the audition, Orga?” Naze is at a loss as he claps his hands. “Congrats! Now you don’t have to worry about getting a gift for Mika-chan, right?”

“Don’t call him ‘Mika-chan’! That’s disgusting!”

“Oi, oi, is that the attitude you should use when speaking with the benefactor who helped you out?”

“…I’m thankful to you for that. Ah, right.” He remembers something important and hurries to fish out his cellphone from the pocket of his discarded jacket. “I need to let Mika know that I’ll be home late tonight.”

“I say, you two really are like a pair of newlyweds!”

“None of your business…” In response to Naze’s teasing, Orga merely rolls his eyes as per usual, and then hides in a corner to make his phone call.

Amida taps her husband on the shoulder, “Darling, why didn’t you bring him over sooner – this kid* has such a great physique and good potential.”

“Well, obviously I can only bring him over when he hands in his manuscript, right?”

“You… Ah, forget about it,” the older woman breathes out a sigh, “as long as the result is okay.”

“Right, right. The result’s okay and everyone’s happy.”

“Then, we’ll borrow this boy for the time being. Darling, you can go back to the office and work hard.”

“Eh!? Let me stay here a little longer!”

“So you did skip work to come here!”

“Aww*…”

After Amida successfully forces his spoiled husband to return to work, Orga has just ended the call as well and changes into the pair of underwear required for the shoot.

He hasn’t mentioned to Mikazuki about the fact that he’s working at a job that requires him to “sell his body”. He can’t let him know that he’s working a part-time gig, either; after all, he wants to keep the Christmas gift as a surprise.

Everything is proceeding smoothly, so he no longer feels dissatisfied about Merribit’s arbitrary decision, and he tells her directly that he’s ready to go.

The blond-haired photographer, who’s been concentrating on adjusting her camera and other equipment, gently nods. As she signals her assistants into their positions, they begin shooting.

-

As they start, Orga has no idea how to position his body. After a moment of standing in front of the camera, clearly at a loss of what to do, he frankly admits that he’s a complete novice with no related experience.

The golden-haired photographer merely smiles, “No need to be so nervous. Just casually warm yourself up, like how you’d do warm-up exercises before playing any sports.”

“Oh…” The young man nods, inhales a deep breath, and begins to roll his shoulders.

As soon as he lifts up his arms, he can hear the sound of the shutter.

“W-we’re starting now?” When he notices that she’s beginning to take photographs, Orga’s movements become unnaturally stiff again.

“Don’t mind me, this is just my work habit. This way, I can capture more candid shots. All you need to do is keep your mind calm and continue moving your body.”

“Is that right? I understand…” Orga says so, but he still doesn’t feel at ease.

In response to this, Merribit tilts her head hesitantly, “Let’s chat for a bit while you’re warming up. That should help you relax a little, right?”

“You don’t have to take care of me. I’ll adjust my state of mind,” the silver-haired youth frowns. Being treated as an amateur as well as a child makes him very unhappy.

“Orga-san, you’re a novelist, but your physique is quite fit. Do you exercise regularly?” The photographer acts as if she doesn’t notice her subject’s mood swings and continues with her small talks.

As she speaks, the shutter clicks from time to time. Gradually, the sound that has him wind up nervously becomes a mere background noise that he can easily ignore.

“I’m part of the American football club in school.” Though reluctant, he still gives a simple answer to her question out of courtesy.

“Football club, huh. How surprising.”

“You think that’s a brutal sport?”

“Not at all. I just didn’t expect you’re still a student. College? High school?”

“…High school.” Orga’s voice becomes softer.

He expects Merribit to make a big deal out of it, but she merely replies with a flat tone of “I see” and continues to ask, “Your position in the team is?”

“Quarterback.”

“Doesn’t that make you the captain?”

“Eh, you understand American football?”

“As a photographer, it’s hard to avoid shoots with athletes, so I know bits of everything.”

“Oh, that’s really incredible.” Orga casually comments with a sigh. But it’s probably a long while later before he learns that Merribit is actually a very well-known freelance photographer.

“Orga-san is quite incredible as well. A student, a football team captain, and a writer. Isn’t that exhausting?”

“It’s all right. We’ve endured worst. It’s much better nowadays.”

“Is that so…?” The photographer casts her eyes downward and pauses for awhile as she begins to check over the photos she’s already taken.

Since the studio has suddenly become quiet, Orga allows himself to relax his body a little. There’s a thin sheet of sweat covering his body from the heat of the lamps and the warm-up exercise he’s been doing. While there’s a break, he looks around searching for a towel to dry himself with. But Merribit seems to have sensed his intention, and stops him.

“The aesthetic of the images will be better with a bit of sweat on your skin, so don’t wipe it off.” She finally looks up from the screen of her camera and says, “Your movements are not as stiff anymore; that’s good. From this point on, please follow the instructions given by the staff and pose accordingly.”

“Okay.” Orga nods, and glances towards the staff member standing by the sets, following his instruction: his back is facing the camera and both of his arms are raised up so that his elbows are leaning against the black backdrop with his head turned back, eyes looking straight at the lens.

Having to deliberately pose in such a sensual posture makes him feel a hint of anxiety and shame, but he forcefully suppresses those emotions aside and lets his expression become as calm as possible.

“But…” the photographer adds after observing her model’s drastic shift in facial expressions, “You’ll have to act more bashful, that’s the key.”

Orga feels his face heating up, and he looks away uneasily. “I already feel very ashamed right from the beginning.”

“Being bashful and being ashamed are two very different matters.”

“What’s the difference?!” Orga’s tone is filled with resistance.

“Hmm…” Merribit moves her head away from the camera, ponders for awhile, and continues with a practiced smile on her lips. “Now that I think about it, didn’t Naze-san mention something about you buying a gift for someone with the money you earn here?” She pauses, trying to remember the name from the conversation, “If I recall correctly… it’s a youngster named Mika, right? Girlfriend?”

“Wh ––?!” Suddenly hearing Mikazuki’s name and that last word within the same sentence causes Orga to almost hit his head against the background wall. “You’re mistaken. Mika is not my girlfriend!”

Yes, this is a huge misunderstanding! There’s already a mistake in the gender of the person in question.

This is all due to Naze’s ridiculous jokes from before, and that’s how the photographer comes up with this kind of misinterpretation. Orga thinks with gritted teeth, but he’s also forgotten that his nickname for Mikazuki is also one of the reasons that causes this misunderstanding.

“Isn’t she?” Merribit’s smile reveals a bit of her gossipy character, “So the gift is for your confession on Christmas?”

“Aren’t you overthinking this?” Since her speculations are getting more and more outrageous, the young man becomes even more riled up, and the volume of his voice heightens.

“A youngster who can get Orga-san this worried – I imagine this person must be as cute as her name suggests, right?

“No way… Ah, I mean I’m not denying about the ‘cute’ part… Ah…” Ahh –– Orga Itsuka you idiot, shouldn’t you clarify the gender misunderstanding first? As he curses at his own clumsy speech, the young man hides his face in the crook of his shoulder in regret, “No, this isn’t it. Mika is actually…”

“It seems to me, Orga-san, that you really like Mika.” She doesn’t wait for the youth to finish his explanation before the blond-haired photographer lays a hand on her camera, her index finger rhythmically pressing the shutter while she rests her chin against her other hand; the curve of her lips deepens, and with a light tone, she deals the final killing blow.

“…Wh––!?”

Orga only feels his entire face about to explode from the rising heat, and he can’t even utter one refuting word. His heart betrays him as it beats restlessly, accelerating the blood circulation so that the heat from his face travels all over his body.

He retrieves his arms and stiffly turns to glare at the golden-haired photographer who’s grinning at him like a cat. With much difficulty, he finally locates his normal tone of voice and clarifies syllable by syllable, “It’s not what you think!”

“Mm, this is the kind of “bashfulness” I want!” Merribit blithely branches off to the other subject and nods with assurance, “Please keep maintaining this state of mind.”

“How’s that even possible!?”

“If you can’t do it, I can continue to help you.”

“What are you trying to do!?” Merribit’s kind yet oppressive smile makes Orga almost instinctively take a step back to shield himself.

“All right, that’s enough, Merribit. If you keep bullying this boy, Darling is going to complain to me tomorrow.”

“How can this be considered as bullying? I’m merely helping the model grasp the right mood.”

“Didn’t you already find it?” Amida casts a glance towards Orga, who’s still blushing furiously, “Young man, you should stop your sulking act as well. Modelling is one such industry. If you still want to make money, then let it go and just pretend you’re acting in a film.”

“…” Orga’s mouth twists into a pout, but he swallows all his grievances before he returns to the set and resumes his previous posture against the background, and says indignantly, “I get it!”

Merribit shrugs, and everyone returns to work.

This peace is short-lived, however.

After changing a few poses, the blond-haired photographer presses her forehead against her camera, exhaling a soft sigh. “Still not enough,” she says quietly.

This one phrase immediately brings to Orga’s mind an extremely ominous sense of foreboding. He should have just agreed with Naze to sell his organs, he thinks to himself in a fit of anger, and then snaps, “What else do you want?”

“Can you not act a little more bashful?”

“I’m at my limit!” The youth squeezes his eyes close, turns his face away and mutters with gritted teeth.

“Looks like this will require some extra stimulation,” Merribit, narrowing  her eyes, turns around, to speak to Amida, who’s been standing behind her, in a soft tone so that only the two women can hear.

She breathes out a small sigh and glances over at Orga with sympathy, and then exchanges a glance with the photographer. She mouths quietly, “Just don’t make him cry.”

It’s rare that the always fastidious Merribit manages to find a model who matches her requirements and finds her artistic direction; everything is ready except for this one key piece.  Amida can only turn a blind eye to this.

Now that she has the consent of the manager – even though technically Orga is not part of Amida’s model agency – the blond-haired woman pulls herself up. “Orga-san, since you’re a writer, you should have a very good imagination, right?”

“Hah?” The silver-haired youth can’t tell what she’s getting at, so he raises an eyebrow in suspicion.

“Well then, imagine this ––” the photographer stares hard at her subject, both of her hands pressing on the camera, and asks, “If the youngster who you like can see you in your current state, how would they feel?” The moment she observes the shivers that travel along his bronze skin and how the expression on his face distorts, she believes that she’s pressed the correct button.

Merribit quietly detaches her camera from the tripod, and while she holds her weapon in both of her hands and ventures near Orga, she continues, “Then think about this –– if that youngster’s gaze follows the lines of your body, admiring your elegance… How would you feel?”

“Th-That sort of thing…” Orga’s voice tremors, turning hoarse.

Even though Merribit has stopped mentioning Mikazuki by name, but the “youngster” that she keeps talking about is, without a doubt, referring to the person of that name. Even if she’s misunderstood Naze’s words and makes some errors. But when she accurately pointed out that Orga likes Mikazuki, the statement triggers his already chaotic swirl of emotions into a raging storm.

He likes Mikazuki, but it’s merely through their familiar bond, the kind of love shared between family members, between brothers. At least, that’s how he’s been repeatedly telling himself.

If that’s the case, imagining Mikazuki seeing him in his current state, his gaze lingering on his body, should not be a problem. After all, Mika is like a brother to him, and he’s seen Orga’s naked body numerous times, so it really shouldn’t be a big deal.

Yet, due to this silly mental image, his own body suddenly burns hot again.

“And then, that youngster’s hand will reach for your body…” The soft and gentle voice of the photographer flows towards Orga through layers of fog and haze, but every word and syllable cuts deeply into his mind, “Those hands, touching your skin, will slowly move down following the contours of your muscles…”

Orga discovers that his breathing is gradually becoming heavier and heavier. “Don’t… say it anymore…” He grits his teeth and tries to force his mind away from picturing that scene, away from thinking about the sensation of Mikazuki’s hands.

At this moment, the assistant waves to signal him to switch to the next pose, allowing Orga to lean his back against the wall, his fingers slightly pressing against the surface.

Following the given instructions, Orga realizes that the photographer has somehow wandered closer to him with her camera, and the clicking of the shutters that he’s almost used to suddenly becomes a shrilling distraction once more, causing utter chaos in his mind.

“After that, if those hands, those slender and delicate fingers were to move towards your hips only to be blocked by this one single piece of clothing, what do you think that youngster would do?”

Orga feels a shudder starting along the small of his back and prickling of gooseflesh forming across his skin. He subconsciously pushes his back against the wall and tries to cover up his own reactions, disgusted by how his body is responding.

This woman is definitely a demon, he thinks fiercely as he attempts to transfer his roiling emotions to the resentment he feels towards the photographer in order to reduce the inappropriate reverie in his mind.

Yet, Merribit maintains her immaculate smile while fiddling with the lens, pressing the shutter, and continuing her devious murmurs.

“If that youngster were to slip their fingers into the hem of your pants, and looked up at you, asking for your permission with his gaze…?”  

If it’s that guy, he’d definitely ask with an unfazed visage, “Orga, what should I do next?”, wouldn’t he?

At this thought, Orga lifts his left arm up to hide his flushed face. Ah –– he’s such an idiot! Why is he following this train of thought?!

“At that time, how will you respond to that youngster?” The photographer continues to ask in a leisurely manner.

“Enough!” He roars, close to breaking down as he slides down the wall with his head in his hands, “Please don’t say it anymore. Mika – he… he’d never…”

“…He?” Merribit freezes, hands halted.

Actually, she’s vaguely felt that there’s something wrong when she uses her words to stir up that bashful side of Orga. Most likely it’s her women’s instincts that let her sense that Orga’s shy reaction is slightly different than the kind of shyness that boys generally feel while thinking about those kinds of things.

Then she catches the pronoun that Orga lets slip, and all at once, she understands the source of that sense of violation…

“Mika…is a boy?”

“Yes! His full name is Mikazuki! I’ve been trying to tell you before but you didn’t give me a chance!” The silver-haired youth says angrily, laying down one hand and awkwardly glancing towards an open corner of the studio.

“Oh… is that so?” Merribit, who’s realized that this is a big misunderstanding, simply wants to run outside and breaks into laughter, but due to her professionalism, she merely smiles lightly and then squats down to adjust the lens, pressing the shutter a few more times.

“You’re still at it?!”

“This pose and angle is quite good,” the photographer says with a pleasant tone, and then glances at Orga whose emotions still seem a bit unstable. All of a sudden, she thinks of another possibility, “Orga-san… Could it be…?”

“…What?”

“That you’re actually a bottom?”

“Eh?” Orga blinks owlishly, not understanding her meaning. After pondering on it carefully, he straightens up, his entire body trembling. “Hell no!”

“You’re a top, then? Doesn’t seem like one…”

“Our relationship is not at that level yet!”

“Not yet, huh… Then make an all-out effort at Christmas!” Even though she’s got the gender wrong, but it appears that most of her predictions have been correct, Merribit thinks.

“Wh… Ah!” Noting his he’s used the wrong wording, Orga can’t do much but feel completely regret at this point in time. “That’s not what I mean!”

But it’s evident that the photographer is oblivious to his explanation; she just presses the shutter with a pleasant swiftness, the speed of her trigger fingers can rival that of Takahashi Meijin’s*.

“Ahhhhh –– Forget it! I’m done with this! I’m going!” The young man says as he rushes out of the shooting area, grabbing his clothes and throwing them on haphazardly as if he cannot wait to leave this living hell behind.

“Eh? That’s it? Merribit, are you all right with this?” Amida, who’s been enjoying the entertaining scene unfolding before her from the sidelines all this time and is trying to control the urge to burst out in laughter, asks about the important matter. From what she can tell, the photographer should be satisfied, but she just needs to confirm it personally.

“Yeah, I’ve got enough. I’m really looking forward to the final product.” Merribit’s face reveals a rare, satisfying smile, and then she looks towards the silver-haired youth dressed messily. “Orga-san, thank you. Amida-san will contact you about billing your payment.”

“Tch…” Because he’s become too agitated, Orga doesn’t even want to bother with a polite reply. He shoulders his messenger bag, heads straight for the doorway, but halts for a brief moment, turning his head grudgingly. “Thanks… that…”

“That’s right,” Merribit places her camera down and clasps her hands together, “If you need some good lubricant recommendations, I know a few friends who can help you out…”

“Goodbye!” Following Orga’s furious voice is the resounding bang of the studio’s door being slammed shut.  

When the sound of the slammed door dissipates, the two women break into hysterical laugher.

“This boy… he’s too adorable! Next time when there are similar projects, I have to have him in the photo-shoots again!” Merribit, rubbing the facial muscles that have stiffened from laughing too hard, makes a long-term agreement with Amida.

“But he’s not under my agency. If I just casually steal him away, Darling will definitely be mad at me,” Amida brushes the tears away from the corner of her eyes.

“It’s fine if we keep employing him as a part-timer. If he really does become a model and gets used to everything, then it won’t be as fun anymore!”

“You sure are one hell of a wicked woman!”

“Even though you’re obviously enjoying yourself as well?”

“That’s true. Darling and I can spend the entire night tonight talking about this boy!”

As the staff members clean up the props and other pieces of equipment while peeking over at the exchange between their boss and the client, every single one of them can’t help but light a prayer candle for the poor, young man in their hearts.

-

*Notes:

- 青涩感 : Means green, as in young, inexperienced, awkward etc.

- 呜: Interjection, mimicking the sound of whining or sobbing, “boohoo”.

- 孩子: Literally means “child”. Replaced with “kid”, “boy”, and “youngster” to make it less awkward within the context.

- 高桥名人: Takahashi Meijin. He became famous for his fast trigger finger speed playing video games. 

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