She took a long, shaky breath and got off the sofa. Her cheeks were crimson. She furiously buttoned up her shirt again and raced for a dustpan and brush. Like her head had only just caught up with what her body had been doing. She'd been like putty in his hands. She clenched her teeth.
"I need to go to the bathroom," Tatsuya said while Kaho swept. He took the stairs two at a time and slammed the door behind him.
Kaho finished cleaning up the mess and threw the contents of the dustpan away. She sighed and washed her hands in the sink. What had she been doing? What had she been thinking? Kaho trudged to the sofa and threw herself onto the sofa. She put her head in her hands. She groaned in exasperation. Why was she like this?
Kaho only opened her eyes when she heard Tatsuya. But he wasn't talking to her.
He was on the phone in the living room, running a hand through his hair and pacing. He looked so worried now. Was that the trick of the industry? Worrying young idols and celebrities and cripple them with so much anxiety they get wrinkled and grey by twenty and dissolve into irrelevance. Or die like that Tsubasa girl? Or was that just growing up?
There was a sinking feeling in her stomach, like the knots in her insides were wriggling and writing, venomous vipers sinking their teeth into soft tissue and rotting her from the inside out. She lowered her head. She missed being a kid, completely brazen and full of joy. She missed the Tatsuya she knew back then.
When they were Himiko's age, in their final year of elementary school, Kaho and Tatsuya ended up in the same class. They'd met before, however briefly, at a shrine, where he'd been praying at a modest grave. She'd asked him who he was. Why he was crying, too. She often remembered him crying. Even his half-grandmother, the shrine keeper had acknowledged how sensitive he was. But all Kaho saw was sadness, sadness she could help quell, even a little bit. She'd stayed with him at the grave, and listened to him talk about the woman buried there.
His grandmother had thanked her for that. Who would have thought they'd have started dating after such a chance meeting so many years ago?
He was from the neighbourhood, but she hadn't known him. He'd always been in one of the lower classes, Class C or D, but he'd been bumped up. He had scruffy hair then, and big, wide eyes, often filled with tears. Feelings were big things for small hearts to handle, and Tatsuya cried a lot back then. Anything from scraped knees to animals dying in documentaries, to losing at games. He went vegetarian for the whole of Middle School because he felt so bad for the fish, even though one of his grandparents ran a fishmonger.
But when they were young, he usually cried for Rika. Iwai Rika, Ryota's paternal cousin. She was in the same grade as them, and had the same fair skin Ryota did. She was bitter, harsh and cold, and while Ryota was like family to her, Rika was a septic wound.
Kaho watched tears brim in Tatsuya's eyes. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he struggled to control his breathing.
"I'll do better," Tatsuya said, "It won't happen again."
His voice was low. Quiet. Like he didn't quite believe what he was saying. Did he have more to give? She missed him. The unbound, free Tatsuya, who wasn't afraid to feel, even if it involved a lot of crying.
The same year Tatsuya joined Kaho's class, he tried to give her candy for Valentines Day. She hadn't brought anything for White Day. She figured nobody would care. They were eleven. She hadn't expected a gift. But Rika and her friends heard about it and cornered him by the bike shed, demanding he fork over the candy and share with them. He'd cried, refused and declared at the top of his lungs that they were for Aigawa.
The next day, Rika refused to play basketball with them. She hadn't even brought in her special ball with the bell in it for everyone else. They all missed out. And Ryota bought his neon pink basketball, the first of many, after that.
That same day, one of the other boys, she couldn't remember who anymore 'accidentally' fell into Tatsuya on the stairs, and sent him tumbling down a flight. He broke his arm.
From then, he was the easy target, snivelling, cry-baby, Tatsuya. The girls teased him for having a failure of an idol as a mother and the boys teased him for having ugly red hair and constantly crying. It was persistent, no matter how much Kaho and Ryota stood up for him. Ostracising themselves in the process.
He'd begged her to just leave him alone. He'd pleased; demanded that she stop spending time with him, because he was dragging her down, ruining her friendships like he'd ruined his mother's marriage…
"Yeah. I understand. And the commercial?" Tatsuya said. She could see his crossed fingers from the stairs. She crossed hers too.
"You're kidding. They booked Suzuki! He was late to the casting call!"
Tatsuya began to pace the room, his steps getting brisker as he walked, breaths shallower. The air felt thicker in Kaho's lungs. She continued down the stairs and made a handheld phone with her fingers. Tatsuya mouthed a name at her and drew the phone away from his air. A crack of static burst into the room and the voice of that same anal man from the roller skating shoot's voice filled the room.
"I know you're disappointed, Sato, but there will be more opportunities. You just have to dazzle them."
"Yeah," Tatsuya said with a sigh.
"What was that? You sound further away. Sato? Am I on speaker? Sato?"
Tatsuya swallowed, "Yeah, I was um cooking. I'm just… stirring."
He strode across the room and grabbed a spoon, stirring the, few charred, remnants of their tteokbokki by the speaker.
Kaho stifled a snort. It sounded very unconvincing. There was no sizzle, more of a clanking sound. Tatsuya shot her a hasty glance, silencing her in her wake. This wasn't a laughing matter. He was in trouble.
His agent took a loud breath, "You always do this, Sato. You always put me on speaker, is there something you want people to hear?"
"No, Mr Dokoyama, Sir!" Tatsuya said in one breath.
"You said you're cooking? Sato. You're supposed to be helping with those new recruits! Put it in the fridge and get over here!"
Tatsuya's face fell. He closed his eyes and sighed. His grip on his phone was tighter, his knuckles turning white. He bit his lip.
"Meiko didn't say anything about that, when she called, Sir," Tatsuya said, "I'm on the other side of town… with my girlfriend."
Dokoyama bristled on the other end of the phone, there was a loud bang, like someone had slammed a door. His voice was quieter, more commanding when he spoke next, "I don't care if you're doing open heart surgery on the President, Sato, get to the apartment now. I'm sending the car."
Tatsuya sighed again, "I'll be there in an hour."
"No. Sato. You know you don't keep me waiting. Akio will be at your girlfriend's house in five. You will go when I tell you to. You're on the clock, Sato."
Tatsuya's face fell, "Yes, Sir…"
He hung up and put his phone on the counter, running a hand through his hair.
"You have to go, huh?"
Tatsuya nodded, glancing at the ruined tteokbokki, "Maybe I should bring some. Poison him with burnt stuff. Maybe then he won't suck."
"Maybe," Kaho snorted.
"I'm sorry."
"I know," Kaho said quietly.
"C'mere," Tatsuya said, pulling her close and kissing her head, "I really don't want to. He's going to be pissed. Mostly at Meiko, I hope."
"I know," Kaho said, forcing a smile, "I just…wish you didn't have to."
"I know," Tatsuya said, "I don't want to. Believe me. I don't."
Kaho wished she could take his hand and beg him to stay. But this was his agent, his job, and her time with him, no matter how fleeting was time she otherwise wouldn't have had. After all, he was supposed to be shooting. He wasn't supposed to be hanging out at her house. All that time, even if she did waste some of it sulking, was more than she would have had otherwise. She should feel grateful. But instead, she felt sour, like she'd been slapped by Dokoyama himself in his demand that Tatsuya actually go to work.
Kaho squeezed his hand, "I'm sorry about that commercial."
"It's fine," Tatsuya muttered.
It wasn't. Kaho wasn't an idiot. The industry was cut-throat. She knew that much. Tatsuya had felt the venomous sting of a scorned idol for his whole childhood and yet he persisted, clawed his way into the sector, and they loved him. They did. That ugly red hair made him a gem on camera.
Tatsuya punched some details on his phone and sighed, "Five minutes."
"Great," Kaho said, "Did you want the rest of tteokbokki?"
Tatsuya laughed and shook his head, "Throw it away. It's burnt. It won't taste good..."
His eyes were welling up with tears again. Kaho squeezed his hands.
"What's wrong?"
"I had something I wanted to tell you, you know?"
She furrowed her brows, "You did?"
"Yeah. It's er… important," he said.
Kaho felt her heart leap into her mouth, she felt nauseous. She crossed her fingers that he wasn't going to say something romantic and emotional now. Not after Naseru. Not after her meeting him and trying to worm her way past the prickles he used to protect himself. She was still getting poked, prodded, and her hope was often punctured. It was like holding hands with a cactus with Naseru. Sometimes it was like holding hands with a cactus and bathing in lemon juice. But sometimes, like those tiny smiles she'd barely glimpsed, she knew, she knew she was on the right track to saving him, to doing what her Future Self had failed to do. And Tatsuya saying something mushy, especially after their conversation in the kitchen.
Kaho ducked her head, no longer wanting to look into Tatsuya's eyes. The inviting ripples of bronze in his eyes felt murky and viscous, suffocating. She didn't want his scrutiny. But a part of her, regardless of everything else, wanted his validation. She wanted his words. The Kaho she'd been before those letters would have bounced off the walls and all but combusted if she knew he was going to say those three little words. Especially after he'd contemplated ending it. They were a strong couple. They'd known each other forever. And yes they still needed to grow, get better at talking and whatever else, but he loved her. He was going to say it. She knew it in her gut.
"Yeah?" she said, just about getting the words out. She helped him to his feet. The rain was still hammering outside, it was as loud as her heartbeat. She swallowed the lump in her throat and smiled at him, desperate to hear those words.
"Kaho I-" Tatsuya said.
He was interrupted by the trilling of his phone. He answered it, pressing the speaker button, a force of habit.
"Hello, Sato, this is Akio. I am outside."
Tatsuya swore, "Just a minute! Sorry."
He reached for the doorknob and turned around, smiling at Kaho, "Make sure you lock your doors and windows. Apparently, there's been a string of robberies around."
Kaho nodded and tugged him back to her side for just a second and kissed him gently on the lips, "Have a good evening."
Tatsuya smiled weakly. "I'll try."