Casper
Stardom was a road forged upon mountains none scaled. Treacherous and filled with the sharpest of stones and the deepest of valleys. Their fans were the stars that lit their path uphill, an impossible trail that was carved from the love of millions, and grew easier to climb the brighter their way.
Their night sky should be filled with endless light, stars that swore their devotion to bring them to the top. But a ripple of anger was a spark in the lines, peer pressured oppression stamped out the fans who should love them but now didn't. They weren't the only stars at the concert, the supposed biggest act now turned into clowns meant for the laughingstock.
They'd performed to a soulless crowd that didn't want them— a crowd of haters that only wanted them gone. It was a stage sunk into darkness, an arena with shifting discomfort and a scornful need for them to leave as soon as they were done. No one cheered, not one chanted their names, the people were silent and comanding. Quiet and disapproving.
Their win, a golden trophy that sat heavily in their hands, was ushured into their arms with disdain. To the fans in the crowd they didn't deserve their awards; they weren't worthy of the crowns meant for genuine honest idols that actually cared for their fans. Idols who were willing to sacrifice all for their supporters.
IDOL didn't care for their fans.
IDOL screamed at supporters to leave; IDOL tore through the crowd; IDOL pushed down their fans; IDOL hurt their fans. IDOL only care for the girl in JieMi's arms. IDOL didn't give a fuck for their supporters once they had a soulmate. IDOL was not grateful for their help. IDOL was no longer their chained sex slaves, fake boyfriends, hallucinated lovers, and imaginery fuck toys.
The members of IDOL were becoming real people.
And they hated that.
The videos were twisted concealed images of the truth, none saw the blood that streaked from Amber, more than just a mere bad case of menstruation. None saw the bruises on their arms, the fingernail marks, the molestation, the trample of feet upon the person they claimed they loved. The abuse was covered, twisted and manipulated so that no one saw the truth.
They only saw what they could see.
The black ocean at the concert was darkness that could only make them brighter, sharper and so much more visible. There would be people who would question the punishment, wonder why their perfected steps and siren like voices deserved such treatment. There would be new fans to replace the old; there would always be people that had their backs. It was the life of a celebrity.
Not all could be easily controlled by the power of the media.
But it was a lack of light that had them stunned beyond conprehension. The pain that rippled through them had been bright in their eyes. It was in the redness in MinJae's sweet orbs, the curve of JieMi's lips and the stress in Sieon's voice.
They performed just as they'd always had, but with a bleeding wound, molten and unfurling as it dripped into their broken-hearted steps. Their emotive dance, so poignant, controversial and sensitive would later be used to power their narrative as singers with neverending strength.
But that didn't mean it didn't hurt them, the way the eyes burned their skin. The way none called their names, the shakiest lonely shout stifled immediately by the press of pressure from others that stood close. Everything was changing and the change seemed negative, the move to continue pursuing their path felt idiotic despite the awards in their hands.
Nonetheless: fleeting, was the moments of true pain. The pangs of hurt were quickly smoothed over by the soothing rubs of hands on skin—whispered promises that they had each other at the very least. The pain of being loved and then quickly despised was understandable.
There was a price to pay for the exchange of love and focus from fan to sweetheart.
At the very least, they had each other, at the very least they were one. And so they wiped their tears and moved on, quickly and without fear. The opinions of the public was a wave that would change with time; the people were cruel but they forget easily and just as quickly as they hated, they would forgive. They experienced it again and again, forever in the cycle of fame.
Still, the stress seeped into their bones, exhaustion sunk its hooks into their bones. And the bite in their lovers' voice when they returned after flights and concerts where they scrimped and saved what sleep they could achieve, was unappreciative. A tone that was justified by her tiredness.
Bu it was soulless. No longer just as loving, no longer the sweet curl of sensual singing of tender joy, instead it was pained and angry. She'd hand over the baby, and then curl into the bed to sleep. The cycle from baby to sleep meant that there wasn't time for cultivating love. Their relationship wasn't the same. Their beds were colder even though they had each other. Her back seemed wider. Her eyes less open, her soul enclosed.
Their marks were none-existent.
But they believed it would get better if they held on a little longer, if they all tried harder. This was their family after all. This was everything they had ever wanted. They had everything they've ever wanted and they were here-
Together.
But the truth was they were never together, each straying on their own path of hardship. Two broken roads, two broken souls. And now that her heart was laid on a silver platter—what they believed was fleshy and filled with health—was revealed to be a shattering glass of loneliness.
At the very least, they had each other to understand.
But she did not.
And that pained Casper so much, that tears began to form, whispery tears that flowed light and airy like the sadness that bubbled in his throat. He had to close his eyes and turn away, exhaling heavily through his mouth as his body shook with all the energy it had, splattering upon tiles until he was weak boned and jelly legged. They should never have left her alone, he realised, they should have stayed until she was settled.
Until she was safe.
Why won't you touch me?
Her words echoed in his head, a direct hit on him more than Hikaru and his lips blistered from teeth and cold. His selfishness, his kinks, his fucking deranged insane habits, his excuses. There was a time and place for everything. And now that he was her soulmate, her lover and in his own head her husband if she'd ever accept him.
But the truth was—
" Thought we would hurt you," he murmured, brushing tears from her eyes. "Assumptions about what we should do. Thoughts about women and their libidos after childbirth. You seemed in so much pain, it was too much to quell selfish perverted needs. It felt too much to ask for more. Pushing you away felt easier then digging through our wants."
Her lips trembled. "I had perverted wants for weeks, is that wrong?" Those words were linked to his heart and he realised then that the wall between them was created by stereotypical assumptions and the refusal to understand.
"No, never."
"You knew," her eyes turned to Hikaru who was hiccupping softly in the cold, wind brushing the tinged red swollenness of his eyes. The darkness brought the glint of tears out in the light, it highlighted hazel hues into a fiery glow. "You rejected me."
"I didn't know that I did," he bit his lips. "You know I wanted you, you felt it on me-"
"-thought it was about my body, and my beauty. Your rejection, I mean," she smiled, squeezed her jutted hips, "am not as pretty."
"Christ, Amber," Casper groaned pulling her close. "It was never about that, you're always the most beautiful angel to me."
And she was, even with the smudge of purple and the cut of thinness upon her cheeks. Even with the break of skin upon drying lips and the sheen of oil on her hair. There was noappearance in the voice of love, and it took effort to think and critique them. His cock needed nothing but the sound of her voice to rise, easier only with her nudity because of the shyness in her eyes and the joy on her lips.
Skin was skin, flesh was flesh but love was lit from the soul.
There was a moment of insanity that frothed from his head and he found himself, twitching with the need to explain. But how? He took her hand, pulled it to the waist of his band, hovering with questions. A sane Casper might reconsider the decision if he'd double crossed it with articles on male confidence. But he knew Amber and he knew she might appreciate this.
"May I?"
She snorted, the sound was wet with tears as she wiped back the remnants of her rant on her cheeks. But she allowed her hand to rest on his tummy, a thumb prodding the flesh and still he shivered, a dance of electricity spiking through skin. "You're funny."
"You'll understand."
"You want me to touch your dick after a sob session about my struggles," her words were scarily filled with detest, but there was none of it in the teasing lilt of her tone. His Amber was a girl who enjoyed random bouts of humour in the dribble of solemnity. "You're like the bad boyfriend in a B-rated porno."
"I am a bad lover."
"I wasn't saying that," she sighed. "Our relationship can't be perfect."
"But it could be better," Hikaru whispered from behind.
"Perhaps," she answered and this time her tone was cold and ruthless. Accusatory.
Casper flinched, bitting lip as he pulled back from her wrist feeling horrible about his decions but her hands moved, moused over his flesh as she edged down the waistband. Her fingers were cold when they feathered over smooth goosebumped skin and then quickly to the hard rise of a swelling cock studded with warmed silver and gold.
Her eyes flickered to his and understanding filled her. The widened eyes told him that she appreciated the gesture, the twitch of her brow was one of confusion. And then there was a flood of surprised wonderous joy. It was a strange reaction to others, something even he doubted could happen when written out in his head with context. But it was Amber.
"You don't shave," she stated loosely, her words whipped and stolen by the wind. But he heard her.
"I don't like to." He nodded, scratching his cheek where the dimple dipped. "And they're waxed." His lips twitched. The wax had hurt, DIY-ed by a grinning Sieon and a murderous applicator.
"But I hate untrimmed pubes," she echoed, pointing to herself, confused. She'd talked about it briefly a strange rant about the scratchy unkept jungle that felt like itchy wire on her clit when sensitive. She didn't like untrimmed pubes.
"You do."
"And you have your studs on," she whispered, hands moving to grope the head and the bars that prodded through soft flesh. "And the new ones." Her fingers brushed, intoxicatingly sweet over the ring that curled at the glans. His dick quivered under her fingers, pleasure tearing through his body, and he held her, hands holding her closer as his breath caught in his throat.
"The new ones," he nodded.
"The ones we picked together," her eyes danced to his, warm with appreciation. "For me."
"I'm a fucking idiot," he rasped.
"You were always hoping."
"Always."
Her eyes were round as she turned to look at Hikaru who flushed and like the worst flasher in the world, pulled down his pants, inched like a fucking horny schoolboy to reveal the smooth upper skin of his body just barely before the curve of a thick cock. He waited, squirming as she stared at the smoothness of non-existent hair.
"This is a little weird," Hikaru murmured out, smiling when she reached to pull the curve of his hip to her, and her hands brushed his skin. She moved back, surprise colouring her cheeks. "I know."
"No," she whispered, then turned to look at Casper. "Everyone got a Brazilian?"
"Regularly," Casper answered with a smile. "We do it for each other.
"Why?"
"We don't know how it started." Hikaru shrugged, then glanced at her. "We just kept at it because...You would like it."
"You're all weird. Fucking hilarious," she snorted, smiling so big she seemed to light up his view. Then she let loose a laugh, big loud peals that filled his body with energy and he couldn't resist the confused but desperately joyful smile, grateful that she was still willing to act this way with him. It showed that she was forgiving them quickly and easily, something that he didn't know if they deserved.
Some part of him wanted her mad and screaming. He wanted them to be given the chance to grovel and provide an equal exchange. He wanted some form of punishment for what he'd done, an equal payment a justified exchange. But she was always the type to let it go, but never forget.
And it was that manner of thinking that told him that they'd broken a level of trust in her that they could never easily earn back. Just as how he knew she'd once held MinJae at a much further distance than the others for the words he'd said. And how she was still just a little wary of JieMi. He knew that each word that spilt from their lips had pulled them further from her heart.
Trust was earned and they'd lost it, but she still loved them. He bit his lips. Perhaps, he should grovel no matter what. The tears that revealed in her eyes as she looked up at him again almost sent him to his knees if she weren't leaning against him with her chin on his skin. He held her, alarmed and horrified.
"What's wrong?"
She began to whimper pressing her nose to his neck and behind him he could hear Hikaru fussing over her, fingers dragging over stray strands of flying hair and stroking her cheek. She glanced up at him, her whispered words inching into his ears.
"All of you have always wanted me."
"Of course," Hikaru answered, "Momo, of course, we'll always want you—"
"I thought," she hiccupped, a shaky gasp that had his hands automatically moving to pat her back, "we'd become like parents who never fuck after kids, I thought family would always be our priority forever. Like those parents that only have sex to make their kids siblings."
"You're dreaming if you think I won't fuck you." Casper closed his eyes, regret steaming in his chest. "I've yet to properly and I'm an idiot for that." He was a stupid motherfucker who'd never had the chance. She stilled in his arms and his cock shivered, weeping with need. His kinks were a part of him, but he would never need them as long as he had her.
"I want to make love until we die," Hikaru murmured, and Casper noted the red in his cheeks so brilliant it reflected the light of the lamp. But he said it with so much conviction and sincerity that she began to giggle.
"Forgive us," Casper mumbled. "We failed to see it from the start...I'm sorry." Weakness grasped him and a trembling exhale erupted. "If you want to leave for a few days, if you want to leave I-I will wait for you." Hikaru's face was filled with a riot of rejection but he kept quiet, brows lifted with disapproval.
Her lips curled as she moved back to look at him. "You won't survive without me."
"Never, but I don't wish to be your prison," Casper clarified. "We don't want to hold you back."
"I couldn't leave Rumiko, there's the doctor's note on the counter but—"
"She has eight parents. You can take a time out while we're here."
"That's so tempting."
"We're back for a while. I could book you something, you could get away—"
"Not alone—" her hands snatched at his sleeves. "Not without someone." Her eyes danced between them, hovered and then settled upon him. "You."
Her words stunned Casper, her single choice made from a thousand coincidences that collided into a single event. Hikaru was looking down at his feet as she spoke, the rejection stung in his eyes, masked in the crunch of fist and a neutral gaze.
But Casper caught a glimpse of the broken smile that flickered as Hikaru looked away. Stung and bitten by his own decisions, he'd lie in his bed for a while with regret. And they all knew that her words were enough to shatter his existence and turn him weak with guilt. It was his punishment. It was the punishment for the rest, rightfully given moments of thinking.
Punishment that they deserved in the way they chose to allow her to be cornered and ridiculed like the lab rat she should never be.
But what was his if she chose him?
A shaky step back from Hikaru had her looking up to touch his cheek. She pressed her lips to his, soft chaste and freeing. It drew more tears from his eyes. There was forgiveness and yet not enough of it. But at least there was love, at least there was hope. Casper shuddered at the thought of divorce before they were even married. She could leave easily, too easily.
And she almost had.
"Ezra was the one who scolded us all." Hikaru began to say, ignoring his own pain and defending that one member who'd tried to make things work. "He was in the bathroom, with very mild food poisoning. He made me see reason. Us see reason. I—" He closed his eyes, then opened it to take her hand, kissing the surface with a low bow that was filled with respect for her decision. "I love you." He let go. "I'll talk to them, I'll explain." He smiled, dropping her hand. "Go."
"I'll see you soon, I promise," she smiled, then fluently in Japanese her words moved. "The love of my life."
And she took Casper's hand.
A/N: Read 20+ chapters ahead on Patreon: patreon.com/tinyeyecat