#sk3

OMG HI!!! also I LOVE THEM. they are jahsjjz 🥺🥺💖🥺💖🥺💖🥺🥺💖💖🥺💖🥺

they are slow and Romero hates him at first but.... they... 🥺

“He?”

“Me?”

“In a Boys Love movie?”

Koharu had only announced the concept, but the two participating parties were already heavily objecting. When they were promised a surprise at the end of their practice session, they didn’t expect this.

“Look, Sengoku recently turned twenty, and we’re going to make use of that,” Koharu explained. “Besides, if this goes well, you’ll have a lot more publicity in girl-populated niches.”

“But why does it have to be with…him!” Sengoku frantically asked, pointing to his fellow bandmate Saeki. “Couldn’t they have asked like…a stranger?”

“If you’re professional, you should be able to handle this without any difficulty,” Koharu said. “Besides, you’re not even going to be the main couple. It’s an anthology which features multiple story-lines, so the chance that this will leave a permanent stain on your record  is insignificant.”

“So, we don’t really have to do a lot of scenes right? No passionate kissing, just handholding and cuddling?” Saeki said as he stared at the script in front of him.

“I know, it’s a pity, but you don’t need much to make a girl’s heart move~” Koharu swooned.

“Well, if you guys have any trouble, I don’t mind teaching the secrets of fanservice,” Shiraishi said, butting into the conversation.

“Yours was a girls lo-love, no I mean, normal, like, boy-and-girl thing! And it was only for an advertisement!” Sengoku yelled. “This is something entirely different!”

“Huh, but there’s no difference in showing affection to girls or boys,” Shiraishi continued. He vaguely gestured towards Saeki, who had only been staring at them. “Just pretend he’s a girl.”

“I can’t pretend that he’s a girl!” Sengoku protested. “Look at him!”

“I can put on a wi-“

“Okay, we know you’re blatantly heterosexual, but beggars can’t be choosers and you’re still the lowest ranking member of SK3 according to our latest poll,” Koharu said, taking the latest print from Yuuji.

“Really!?”

“I thought those were supposed to be secret.”

“I’m still number one!”

Koharu sighed and ripped the paper from Saeki’s hands, cutting along his index finger.

“Owch,” Saeki exclaimed pulling back his hand.

“Don’t worry, you will go through much worse. Rehearsal’s at Saturday, the director likes bonbons. Dismissed.”

Koharu left the room, leaving the others speechless. Shiraishi broke the silence. “Saeki, shouldn’t you get that cleaned up?” he asked.

“Oh, it’s just a cut. You guys can go, I’ll close off the venue,” Saeki said, watching the liquid drip down his finger. He saw Sengoku pacing back and forward, looking at the script, looking away, and looking at it again, as if the contents would have changed during the small time gap.

“If you say so. See ya,” Shiraishi said, leaving the room, Sengoku trailing wide-eyed behind him.

Saeki waved both of them off and went to the small kitchen, to clean his finger. After he made sure that both his colleagues were out of sight, he screamed.

“This hurts aaaargh!” he yelled, tears streaming down his face. He was not good with blood, not at all, and Icchan was the only one who knew about his cool facade. But Icchan wasn’t there right now, and he had to clean up his mess himself.

He bowed over the faucet and used his clean hand to splash the water on his finger. He felt himself getting dizzy when the blood washed away to reveal his clear rosy skin, that amply covered the new gushing redness. Closing his eyes, he started mumbling to himself so he could remove the paper cut from his thoughts.

“It’s only a paper cut. I won’t die. It’s only a paper cut. It hurts like hell! But I won’t die. I’m not going to die.”

“What are you doing?” a voice called out from behind him.

Saeki turned around and saw Sengoku glaring at his pathetic behaviour.

“Just, cleaning this cut. That’s all,” he sniffed.

“You’re...crying...and you were yelling. I think Shiraishi could’ve heard that.”

“I’m not crying.”

“You are.”

“No.”

Sengoku slowly took his phone out of his pocket.

“Okay, I was, but this really hurts!” Saeki whimpered as Sengoku came closer to take a good look.

“It’s so tiny Sae,” he observed. “What are you crying for?”

“It. Still. Hurts!”

Sengoku sighed. As  if he did not have enough worries, he also had to deal with the sensitivity of his future partner.

“Do you need a band aid?” Sengoku asked, glaring at Saeki’s stupid face. Taking a picture of him was useless, as he still looked dashingly handsome. It was kind of disgusting. His fans would love it.

“Please?”

Sengoku left the room and searched for the med kit backstage. He knew it was a stupid idea to let Shiraishi of all people store it, it was not a prop container, but Shiraishi begged to differ. And now that someone actually needed it, it was gone.

A roll of duct tape innocently fell from a stack of scripts. Sengoku resisted the temptation.

“Why did you come back?” Saeki asked as he saw Sengoku coming over to him with a single flesh-coloured strip.

“Forgot my scarf,” Sengoku answered. “Here.”

Sengoku threw the band aid on the counter.

“...”

“...”

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I can’t apply a band aid with one hand.”

If Sengoku didn’t have patience, Saeki’s finger wouldn’t be the only part of him that would bleed.

“Are you serious.”

“Like, yeah, totally serious.”

Sengoku inhaled deeply. This was surely a test bestowed upon him by the gods. He was going to pass it, but not before running impure and violent thoughts through his brain.

“Give me your finger,” he said abrupt.

Saeki slowly extended his hand, gauging Sengoku’s intentions.

“Just...stay still will you,” Sengoku said as he took hold of Saeki’s hand. The cut was shallow. Just like Saeki. In a quick motion, he stuck the plaster on his skin.

“There you go. Do you also want some candy?” Sengoku said dryly.

“Do you have some?”

“No.”

Saeki stared at him sheepishly. “Thanks.”

“Don’t fret about it. Let’s go,”  Sengoku said, wrapping his scarf around his neck.

Saeki put one glove on and joined Sengoku, making sure that the lights were off and the venue locked. The chilly breeze that blasted in his face from outside made him wince.

“Shit weather huh,” Sengoku commented. Saeki nodded and puffed up his collar. The shift of temperature made his finger sting, but the bloody part was over at least.

“You have anything to do today?” Sengoku asked.

“Yeah, I was going to turn in early,” Saeki answered. As an idol, he had to preserve his face, and lately he felt the consequences of staying up late to practice singing dawn upon him.

“Kay,” Sengoku said.

“Is there something?” Saeki asked, turning to face Sengoku.

“Not really, I was just planning to have some yakiniku,” Sengoku mumbled.  His original plan was to ask Shiraishi, but that guy had already disappeared on the metro. And well, Saeki was better than no one.

“Want me to join?” Saeki asked. “I’m up for some hot meal right now.”

Whether it was because Saeki was genuinely hungry, or he was simply being nice, Sengoku felt a bit relieved that he proposed it. Maybe they could talk things over, concerning their upcoming roles.

“Sure,” Sengoku said as he turned the corner.

Their dinner was pretty quiet, and neither of them wanted to start a conversation. Saeki beckoned for Sengoku to lean over the table and take a selfie.

“Won’t it be weird if Shiraishi isn’t included?” Sengoku asked after Saeki took it.

“Oh, that’s right,” Saeki answered as he put his phone on the table, “I won’t post it.”

Sengoku wondered how Shiraishi must have felt at the announcement. Probably very lucky, but maybe a little bit...isolated? If Shiraishi and Saeki had been cast instead...

Vivid images of Saeki and Shiraishi being lovers appeared in his head, and Sengoku unconsciously twisted his face to express disgust.

“Sengoku, are you okay?” Saeki asked.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” Sengoku quickly responded.

“Are you worried about Saturday?”

Saeki was staring down at his food, absentmindedly shoving one or two pieces from the small platter in his mouth. He had to watch out for his weight after all.

“I guess,” Sengoku said, tongue in cheek.

“Let’s just be professional,” Saeki said, through his chewing. He decided that it would be the best for both if they set their friendship aside and instead focused on the performance itself, no matter how awkward or hard it would become.

Sengoku glanced at Saeki’s downcast eyes. While he did not look like it, deep inside, Saeki was definitely a professional. Shiraishi had no qualms about hiding his hardworking persona, Sengoku didn’t like showing his plain side, but Saeki was a different case. He never strived for the perfect choreography or pitch like Shiraishi did. He didn’t strive for the most fun and flashy persona like Sengoku did. He was utterly plain.

Sometimes, he felt like Saeki was a complete stranger.

The aforementioned  looked up to find Sengoku staring at him.  The beef hanging half from his mouth, he gave Sengoku a quizzical stare.

“Sae, what’s your deal actually?” Sengoku asked. “Why are you in this whole idol business.”

“To make girls happy of course,” Saeki answered.

“C’mon, we both know it isn’t like that,” Sengoku said. “What’s your real reason?”

“It is my real reason, honestly,” Saeki continued. “What else could there be?”

Sengoku remained silent and tried to observe Saeki’s reaction. As usual, he couldn’t read him at all. No wonder his palm reading failed so horribly on him, cold reading was horrible with types like Saeki.

“Are you trying to stare the answer out of me? That’s my tactic,” Saeki said.

Sengoku grumbled. He would get his answer somehow.

“I just feel like we should get to know each other better, since we’re going to have to act together,” Sengoku explained.

“Isn’t being an idol already plenty of acting?” Saeki asked.

"Quick! Put your glasses on! It's the only way you can see what's really happening!"

"Do you know a Hansen or something? I’m really not sure what I could do to help there if so, the only person my grandfather was able to somewhat heal still died kind of young.” 

“As you said it’s not about the living.” 

“Oh yeah it’s about.. oh...”