Sinking back into the couch, I let out an exhausted sigh, staring absently at the studio's rain-soaked windows. Weather forecast predicted that it's supposed to be a partly cloudy day, mostly sunny. Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, it started pouring when I left the station with Yami. And to add salt to the injury, the studio had a blackout just as we entered the building.
"Well… at least things can't get any worse, right?" I laugh humorlessly to myself, glancing back at my phone, all the pre-made plans and schedules on the screen staring back at me as if mocking at my plight.
Normally I'd be pretty edgy when things go off-road from my meticulously-prepared plans, but now I can't even summon the strength to feel upset it.
What the hell was he thinking… My eyes glaze over to the black folder on the coffee table, the documents that the Project Manager gave me. The longer I stare at it, the more I'm convinced that it's cursed, along with this whole project and my fate.
"Uhm, Mr Producer?" Yami calls softly from the side. I glance towards the entrance of the room to see the boy rubbing his drenched hair with a towel. At least now, he's dressed in something more casual than the dress he's wearing before: a school uniform, male version. "Is everything all right?"
"Yeah, sure," I answer half-heartedly. "Just uh… a little tired."
The boy rests the towel on his shoulders and walks towards me. He takes a seat on the opposite side of the table. I don't think too much about it. My mind is still locked on the information from the documents and working on overdrive for solutions and contingency plans. I'll have to pull what little strings I have as someone new to the industry in order to make this work, and even then it'll be a stretch. The Project Manager's expectations are pure insanity.
My mind relaxes for a moment from fatigue. In that split second, my eyes drift towards the boy in front of me, and it's only now do I realise that he's been fixing his gaze on me. Even after catching him, he still refuses to tear his lustrous green eyes from me, almost like he's expecting something.
"Uh… how long have you been staring?" I ask.
He glances down at his watch. "About twenty minutes."
"Hah? You're lying."
"It's true." He shrugs. "I was starting to think you're sleeping with your eyes open or something."
At that, I shrink back into my seat in embarrassment, realising how much of his time I'm wasting. "Look, sorry I'm off my game right now. You can go home if you want. We've already been through the schedule for tomorrow and all, so there's not much left to discuss."
A rumble of thunder cuts through the rustle of rain from outside. Yami looks towards the drenched windows, then back at me. And there he goes again, staring at me like some sort of possessed kid. Not going to lie, I'm starting to feel a little uncomfortable about this. For some reason, his eyes are unnaturally bright in the dark.
"What?" I frown, not bothering to hide my annoyance this time.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah, sure," I answer, this time more frustratedly. "You don't have to make me sound like I'm dying, y'know?"
"Hmm?" He places a finger by his lip. "I think you're stressed."
"Yeah, a little I guess."
"Very stressed."
This cheeky little… Growing tired of his games, I sigh. "What do you want from me?"
He grins, as if he's been waiting for that question right from the start. "You've got a lot on your mind. Why don't you share some of your problems with me?"
"You don't have to worry about it. Not much you can do anyway. The problems I have are administrative stuff. Uh, on the managerial level. Ah… you get what I mean."
"Maybe I can help."
"We both have our own jobs to worry about. You do your thing and I do mine. I don't want to mix my problems with yours unnecessarily. Don't want you to worry more than you should."
"But I'm worrying about you right now," Yami counters firmly. He leans forward, his gaze never leaving mine."You're my producer. I'm your idol. We should be working together, not separately. I get where you're coming from, but like it or not, we're a team now. If you keep things from me, how am I supposed to trust you?"
Hearing that, I can feel the shame boiling hot in my cheeks. Yami's words struck hard and true. Everything he said was perfectly logical, and it really shames me that I can't see something so obvious.
"All right, sorry about that. It's just this…" I nudge my head towards the black folder on the table.
Yami picks the folder up. "May I read it?"
"Yeah," I answer, of which he immediately flips it open and starts reading the contents in the gloom. "To start off, a lot things about this whole project took me by surprise. Believe me, I did my research on this agency and made a hell lot of preparations for the idol I was expecting to work with."
"You didn't even know you're working with a boy," he murmurs, flipping a page. I'm surprised he can even read anything in this darkness. "Mr Itoh told me that you're not supposed to know, apparently."
"Yeah. Well, fortunately the curriculum isn't any different from a female idol's. The real problem is the Project Manager's expectations."
"Oh?" Yami stops at a page.
"Basically, we'll be focusing on creating a single for you. However, the profit margin he demands is twenty percent more than first-time idols make on their debuting singles."
"That's a lot, right?"
I nod. "The worse part is, he wants the results within three weeks. Failing that, he cuts our budget. I think that's the best case scenario too. Much worse things can happen, if you catch my drift."
"Oh, three weeks?" The boy raises a brow. "Isn't that a little long just for one song?"
"It's not that simple," I explain. "Depending on the priority of the single, it takes about a week to record and send to engineering for mastering, and possibly one more week for filming. Then there will be one more week needed, where we focus on editing and marketing."
"But that's three weeks. Isn't that just right?"
"Like I said, it's not that simple." I sigh, massaging my temple. "We're completely new to the industry, so our priority is pretty low on the label. Everyone has to wait their turns too. We can only debut if the label allows us to. Otherwise, we wait."
"I see." Yami nods, closing the folder and setting it back on the table. "So an unreasonably high profit margin and a tight schedule, huh?"
"Mm-hmm. Also, this project…" I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees, staring at the cursed folder in front of me. "The Project Manager wants a unit of feminine cross-dressing boys, otoko-no-ko, to revolutionise the idol industry. Some sort of mad scientist project, if you ask me."
"You don't think a unit of traps will be successful in the market?" Yami sounds a little more tense than usual when he says that.
"It's not that. It's just… I'm not sure, y'know? I mean, I know the concept of traps is gaining popularity in this country, but this is the first time an agency is trying to sell this theme as an actual idol unit. Our target audience is a bit of a blur too, in my opinion. Like, it may or may not work, but don't forget that I'm a first-time producer. I have less experience than the veterans of the agency. I'll make mistakes. And when it's something as volatile as this project, there can be absolutely no room for mistakes."
Yami makes a pensive 'hmm' as he settles back in his couch. I wonder if he even understands the gravity of the situation, how much I'm pressure I'm under. "Well I don't know much about the industry and marketing, but I think we can sort the other problems out," he says. "Why don't we just work faster?"
"It'll take a toll on you," I say. "I understand you can only work in afternoons, and on top of that, you can't make it on Wednesdays and Fridays, right?"
"Yeah, I've got other responsibilities too. But since we've got this problem in our hands, I can cross them out for this."
"You sure?" I study the boy's features carefully. Throughout my life, I've always had a knack for figuring out people's expressions to know if they're hiding or something. But not this time. Yami's features don't betray anything. He's probably one of the most difficult person to read. "To my understanding, you have a part-time job. Will your workplace be fine with your decision?"
"Not really, but I'll make things work out somehow." He shrugs, snorting a laugh. "Now is the time quote you, 'you do your thing and I do mine'."
I let out a chuckle of my own and immediately, I can feel the stress evaporating. When I first met him at the office, I thought he was going to be like any other pretty face in the industry who'd prefer to worry about his own side of the battle. Not only is this boy willingly shouldering the burden with me, he's also giving me a sense of direction in my time of need. For someone of his age, he's incredibly mature. Perhaps even more mature than me.
I glance at the window and notice that the rain has mostly subsided. Yami notices this too.
"We should go, Yami," I say, getting up to my feet. "It's getting late."
"Yeah. I'm getting hungry, and mum is cooking curry tonight." He clasps his hands together and licks his lips. "Oh, and by the way, I'd like you to call me by my real name when I'm wearing normal clothes. Y'know, when I'm not performing or cross-dressing."
"Ah, I get it."
"You remember my real name, don't you?"
I open my mouth to answer him, but my mind draws a blank. No way… I read it in the damned document. Okay, narrow down your knowledge; use your training. He's of a foreign descent, that's obvious. What was he… ah yes, half-Russian half-Chinese. Name… the damned name… it was Russian, I'm sure, because I know Chinese and it'd have stuck with me. Russian… Russian… Mikhail? Kalashnikov? Wait, isn't that the Russian military officer?
"Jeez…" The boy giggles, probably at the face I'm making when I was thinking really hard. "It's Mischa. Mischa Belikov."
"R-right." I look the other way. "I was getting to that."
"You forgot, didn't you?"
"Hell no! I just… needed more time."
This time, Yami explodes in laughter and collects his bag from the corner of the room. We proceed to make our way towards the studio's entrance. After signing our names on the registry, we take our leave from the building. Outside, the skies are still overcast and drizzling, but making our way to the station shouldn't be too much of an issue. Still wish I had an umbrella though.
"I'll be heading the other way, actually," Mischa says, pointing at the massive building on the other side of the street. A department store, apparently. "I've got a bit of shopping to do before I get home."
"All right. See you tomorrow then." I give the boy a sidewards wave.
Just as I'm taking my first step towards the other side, I feel a tug on my sleeve. I turn around to see Mischa grinning cheerfully, his eyes twinkling.
"And Mr Producer, about you saying that you're a first-time producer and all…" Mischa lowers his face, blushing slightly. "Don't worry about it. I trust you, okay?"
There it is again－ that same mini heart attack I got from the first time we met knocking me breathless again. In turn, I can feel the blood rushing to my cheeks. Before I can even say anything in return though, the boy whips around and dashes away from me.
"God damn…" I shake my head, allowing myself a brief chuckle. This boy has been surprising me time and time again for the entirety of today, and in a good way too. Something tells me I'm in for a wild ride in the coming days.