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“Oshi-saaaan...”
Shu finishes adjusting the brooch pinned to his chest, ensuring that the bow is perfectly centered before he turns to face Mika. As usual, he’s struggling to do up his waistcoat. The fabric is too stiff for him to force the buttons through on his own, and no matter how many times they’ve prepared for this stage, Shu always ends up doing it for him. This time will be no exception. Shu chuckles fondly and crosses the dressing room.
“Honestly, Kagehira, will you ever learn how to do this?” he says. He sits on the stool by the vanity, takes one end of Mika’s waistcoat in each hand, and pulls him close.
“Nnagh... Sorry,” Mika says. “It looks better when ya do it, anyway.”
“It looks no different,” Shu chastises him. He finishes buttoning up Mika’s clothes and runs both hands up and down his chest, smoothing out the wrinkles that have somehow already formed in his jacket. “There. It’s only two buttons, you know. Surely you can practice this on your own time?”
Mika grins. “Maybe I like it when ya do it for me.”
Shu sighs and shakes his head, but there’s no hiding the smile that’s crossed his face. “How many times must I say it? You’re -”
“- A human, not a doll, I know,” Mika interrupts. He catches sight of himself in the vanity mirror and does an experimental twirl, delighting in the way that his coat spins around him. “Wow. I love these ones, Oshi-san. Why don’t we wear them more?”
Shu shrugs nonchalantly, but in his head, he begins to formulate a list of occasions for which this outfit could be appropriate. Valkyrie doesn’t do fanservice, but he’s not above the occasional photoshoot. Perhaps it could be used for other stages. If Mika wants something with lots of movement, then their earlier songs wouldn’t be suitable, but -
“Oh, I was kinda kiddin’. I’m fine with wearin’ them just for this,” Mika says. Shu frowns.
“Did I say that all out loud?” he asks. Before Mika can reply, a stagehand pokes her head around the corner and holds up three fingers. Shu and Mika nod in unison and follow her out of the room.
Though they normally only need to be on stage a few moments before the lights come up, Eternal Weaving requires extra preparation, as it takes a couple of minutes to raise the central platform once they’re on it. Shu usually takes the opportunity to practice a few simple steps of their routine, making sure that he can keep his balance even with the unfamiliar up-and-down motions this part of the Live requires. Mika prefers to keep his eyes closed and stay stock-still, too prone to motion sickness to test his limits. They can’t speak during this phase lest they’re overheard by the fans in the front row, and the lighting is too low to allow for effective hand signals.
“Test, one, two, Valkyrie, can you hear me?” a voice says into their earpieces.
“Yes,” Shu whispers as quietly as he can.
“Okay. Lights up in ten seconds. All good?”
Shu and Mika cross the platform and assume their starting poses in the center. “All good,” Shu affirms.
“Great. Okay, five, four, three...”
Mika twitches almost imperceptibly. He opens his mouth a tiny bit, as if he’s about to say something, before he feels the platform shift downwards beneath him and the opening notes of Eternal Weaving play in his earpiece. He has no choice but to throw himself into the performance.
It’s impossible for Mika to avoid smiling as they’re lowered down. The sound of the audience cheering will always be special to him; he’ll never forget the pain of the long months he spent without hearing it. His concerns fly from his head the moment he and Shu jump to opposite ends of the stage, arms out, drawing their bodies together and then apart once more. He gets a precious, fleeting second of eye contact with his partner before they cross paths and turn their backs to each other.
The first minute of the song goes off without a hitch. Valkyrie are so well-rehearsed that mistakes with their choreography are unheard of, and Shu became so diligent about vetting their stage crew after the fall that their lighting and audio is always flawless. All that upfront preparation allows Shu to lose himself completely to his performance, focusing on nothing but the sort of raw artistic expression that cannot be practiced beforehand. The enthusiasm of his movement and the power of his voice are always at their best when they’re on stage. No matter how hard he tries, he can never quite replicate this energy in the fluorescent lighting of a quiet practice room.
As the first chorus wraps up, the platform jolts and begins a steady ascent. Shu keeps his eyes fixed on one of the red curtains at the edge of the stage to avoid getting dizzy. He smiles ever-so-slightly as he hears the beginning of Mika’s familiar cry.
“O’ Light!” he calls, his voice clear and powerful and unshakeable in a way that Shu wishes he would be offstage. Above them, inaudible over the music and the roar of the crowd, something creaks.
“Why will you not cease -” Mika says, but as he takes a step towards Shu, his voice is overpowered by the unmistakable sound of something snapping. The platform swings out from underneath him, and his carefully practiced words dissolve into a sharp screech as he loses his balance. Shu whips around, ignoring his cue to enter the song again, only for his own knees to buckle. He collapses against the side of the platform as it crashes into the main stage and safely slides to the floor, but Mika isn’t so lucky. He flies through the air and slams into the ground head first with a sickening crack, unconscious before his feet hit the floor.
Screams ring out from the crowd. Shu rips out his earpiece and hisses, still slumped against the wreckage of the stage. He grits his teeth as his right ankle throbs angrily. He’s so focused on trying not to be sick from the pain that it takes him a second to lift his head, and when he does, all his discomfort is forgotten.
Mika’s body is sprawled out on the stage, entirely motionless, his right arm bent at an unnatural angle. Shu shrieks and rushes towards him, tripping over himself in his attempt to move forward and up at the same time. The music finally comes to a stop as he’s kneeling by Mika’s side.
“Mika? Mika!?” Shu shouts. His hands hover over Mika’s delicate frame, unsure of how to touch him or whether it’s even safe to try. The producer, some CosPro staff, and several stagehands sprint out from backstage, some with their phones pressed to their ears, others heading towards where the ruined platform is spitting out sparks. Even with all the commotion around him, Mika doesn’t stir. Panic rises in Shu’s chest. He feels his pockets for his phone even though he knows he doesn’t have it, as if God might have miraculously willed it into his possession.
“What are you all fucking doing? Somebody call a fucking ambulance!” he calls out to the crowd. A few girls in the front row immediately scramble for their phones.
Shu turns back to Mika. He would look almost peaceful if it weren’t for the circumstances, his black hair splayed around his face like an angel’s halo. For one agonizing moment, Shu can’t tell if he’s breathing. His vision starts to go black at the edges, his entire world narrowing down around Mika’s pale face, until Mika finally lets out a shuddering breath.
“Oh, fuck. Oh, fucking hell,” Shu mumbles. He can’t remember the last time he swore so much at once. He reaches out to touch Mika, reaching out to take him into his arms, but Anzu is quick to intervene. She drops down beside him and pushes his hands away.
“Itsuki, don’t,” she warns. “It’s dangerous. He might’ve broken his neck.”
“He might have fucking what?" Shu screams, his voice cracking on his last word. He drags his hands down his face, leaving visible red scratches down his cheeks. “No, no, no, no, this can’t be fucking happening, this can’t be fucking happening!"
If Anzu is worried, she’s doing a damn good job at pretending to be calm. “Look, I - I doubt it, okay, but we’ve got to be careful. The ambulance is on its way, and we’re very close to the hospital, so he’ll - he’ll be alright, okay?” she says.
“You’re stuttering!” Shu exclaims. He grabs her by the lapels of her blazer and pulls her close. “You’re fucking stuttering, you have no idea if he’s going to be okay, and you’re fucking lying to me, and - I - I -”
Shu lets go of her and immediately bursts into tears. Anzu’s glance flits between Mika’s motionless form, Shu’s heaving body, and towards the audience. She jumps up and starts waving her arms at the front row. “Hey, hey, phones away, no recording!” she shouts. She looks over her shoulder at the horde of staff. “Can we evacuate the venue, please?”
“We can’t, not until the ambulance arrives,” someone calls back to her. “We’ve got to make sure there’s a clear path for them to get Kagehira out of here.”
“Oh, God, alright. Listen, hey, phones away, please!” she yells, even though there’s no way she’s going to be heard over the chaos.
Shu is in outright hysterics now, his entire body heaving with the force of his sobs. He leans over Mika, his head in his hands, desperate to see the precious mismatched gemstones that he wishes he’d treasured more. What would his last words to Mika have been if he died here? He’d reprimanded him backstage, hadn’t he? He has so much more to say, so much more to confess, so much more love to give. He’d let Mika wear this outfit on every stage they have for the rest of time. For the first time since his childhood, he bows his head and sends a silent prayer into the ether, a frenzied plea for the life of his partner in art.
An unfamiliar voice breaks through the haze of Shu’s despair. “Hey, you’ve got to move.”
Shu doesn’t budge, doesn’t dare to tear his eyes away from Mika, so a strong pair of hands takes him by the shoulders and drags him back. Four paramedics descend on Mika at once, clouding Shu’s vision. He watches in mute horror as they gently lift Mika’s arm and cut up the length of his sleeve to inspect his injury, ruining the beautiful outfit that Shu spent dozens of hours creating. Nausea washes over him when he sees the angle of Mika’s elbow, and he has to look away.
Behind him, Anzu sucks in a sharp breath. “Ugh, God, that’s a nasty break,” she mumbles. Shu gags, and she claps a hand over her mouth. “Sorry, sorry, thinking out loud. Sorry, Ituski.”
While the other three strap Mika to a bright orange stretcher, one paramedic approaches Shu and offers him a hand. Shu comes to his feet unsteadily, his ankle screaming in pain if he puts any weight on it.
“You alright?” he asks. Shu responds by bursting into a fresh wave of tears. “Hey, hey, it’s going to be okay. We’re taking him to the hospital now. Let’s put you in the back with him, okay? Can you walk on your own? No?”
Anzu is the one who goes with him. He puts his arm around her for support and follows the paramedics through the maze of hallways as quickly as he can even though his body is crying out for rest. His eyes catch on the door of their dressing room as they speed by, and he has to swallow a wail.
The freezing night air stings the places where tears are drying on his cheeks, but he’s only on the sidewalk for a moment before one of the paramedics helps him into the back of the ambulance and wraps a blanket around his shoulders. They move Mika onto a larger stretcher and wheel him in before they take off, sirens blaring.
Shu cowers on the edge of his fold-down seat. He still can’t get a good look at Mika while he’s being treated. He hunches forward, unable to quell the tremors tearing through his body even though he’s no longer cold.
As they speed through the neighborhood, Mika’s eyes finally flutter open. He groans quietly as the harsh light floods his vision.
“Nnagh... Wha’s... my head hurts...” he whines. He shuts his eyes again and turns his head slightly, giving Shu a fuller view of his face.
Shu’s heart soars. “Kagehira!” he exclaims as he launches himself out of his seat. The sudden noise makes Mika flinch, and the paramedic who had been reassuring Shu earlier motions for him to sit back down. Shu begrudgingly obeys.
“Hey there,” he says to Mika. “Can you tell us your name?”
“Kagehira... Mika. Hurts...” Mika whispers slowly. The other paramedic nods and notes something down on the clipboard hanging on the wall. Frustration swells in Shu’s chest.
“Excuse me, he’s in pain. Can’t you do something?” he says.
“We can’t give him anything until we know the extent of his injuries.”
Tears prick the corners of Shu’s eyes. “But he’s in pain,” he repeats uselessly.
“Oshi-san...” Mika whimpers, latching onto the only familiarity he can detect in his half-conscious state. “Everythin’ hurts.” The weakness in his voice nearly tears Shu’s heart in two.
“I know, my dearest Mika,” Shu whispers. He wishes he could hold Mika’s hand. “I’m so sorry.”
They’re separated as soon as they enter the hospital. Shu tries to follow Mika’s stretcher through the emergency room doors, but a nurse steps in between them and shakes her head.
“You can’t go with him,” she says. She points to a separate set of doors a few feet away. “You can sign in over there. They’ll call you in as soon as he’s ready to take visitors.”
Shu nods, dazed. An overwhelming feeling of dread is filling him now that Mika is out of his sight. He takes one step towards the doors and immediately collapses, his ankle giving way beneath him. The nurse gasps.
“Oh, God, why didn’t you say you were hurt?” she says.
“I didn’t know,” Shu mumbles. He brings himself onto all fours and pushes himself back into a standing position. “I have to go.”
He limps through the doors, stutters through his and Mika’s names to the man at the front desk, and takes the seat furthest away from the other patients. He hadn’t realized how tired he was until now. Exhaustion weighs down all his limbs, and if it weren’t for the adrenaline rushing through his veins, he thinks he could fall asleep in this hard plastic chair.
He forces his eyes to widen as far as they will go, and it’s then that he notices the amount of stares he’s getting. There are only a handful of elderly people and one father with a toddler here, neither of which are exactly Valkyrie’s target demographic, but he supposes it’s possible they recognize him anyway. It isn’t until he glances down and processes that he’s still in his gaudy stage outfit that he realizes why they’re all looking at him like he has two heads. He can’t bring himself to snap at them and opts to avoid their gaze by burying his face in his hands.
He doesn’t know how long he stays in that position, but he’s snapped out of his trance by someone calling his name. When he lifts his head, Anzu and Ibara are standing before him.
“Sorry about the delay,” Anzu says. She sits to his left and takes his phone out of her purse. “There was quite a bit of traffic from people leaving the Live.”
Ibara doesn’t bother sitting. He paces up and down the row of chairs, ignoring the patients who glare at him whenever he passes by. He looks angrier than Shu has ever seen him.
“I cannot believe the gross negligence that was on display tonight!” he exclaims loudly. A woman shushes him, but he doesn’t pay her any mind. “I’ve been in contact with CosPro’s lawyers already. We’re going to sue, Itsuki. We can’t do much until we know the extent of the damages, but the second we do, I’m serving them papers.”
Shu stares at him blankly. “Why is he here?” he says to Anzu. Anzu rolls her eyes.
“I don’t know. He insisted on it. I think he’s convinced CosPro is going to go under if Valkyrie... well. How is Kagehira doing?”
“He was awake in the ambulance, but he - he was in so much pain,” Shu says. He nibbles on his bottom lip, afraid that he might start crying again. “He kept saying, ‘it hurts, Oshi-san, it hurts’ over and over again. God.”
Anzu pats him on the shoulder. “It’s a good sign that he was talking to you.” She glances down at his ankle and gasps. “Itsuki, have you had that looked at yet?”
“Hm?” Shu follows her gaze and winces. His right ankle is visibly swollen, and the skin around the top of his sock is bright red. When he puts the back of his hand against it, it’s hot to the touch. “Probably just a sprain.”
Ibara comes to a stop in front of him and tuts. “That won’t do, Itsuki. You’re risking permanent damage with every minute you wait. Excuse me!” he says, marching up to the front desk. “This man needs a doctor, stat.”
“So does everyone else in this room, sir,” the receptionist says wearily.
While Ibara argues with the hospital staff, Shu checks his Hold-Hands messages. He replies to Arashi first and gives her all the information he has on Mika’s condition, copies that message, and sends it to the other half-dozen people begging for updates. When he checks the CosPro channel, he’s confronted with a long list of social media links. His heart sinks as he realizes that they’re all different videos of the incident.
He clicks on one out of morbid curiosity. It begins twenty seconds before the disaster, but from this distance, Shu can see that the platform was shaking well before it collapsed. He stops the clip just before the cables snap, unable to bear watching Mika fall again.
Anzu frowns when she realizes what he’s watching. “You shouldn’t be looking at that,” she says.
Shu lets out a shaky sigh. “I know. I can’t help it.”
Anzu wordlessly reaches out for his phone, and though he wants to keep doom-scrolling, he reluctantly relinquishes it to her. Ibara comes to sit beside them, crossing his arms and sighing loudly.
“Honestly, it’s like they don’t even know who I am,” he complains. Anzu looks like she might strangle him.
The next half hour passes by in an agonizing crawl. Ibara gets up and paces around the room a few times, and Shu wishes that he could do the same. He watches over Anzu’s shoulder as she writes a few urgent emails, desperate for anything that might calm his nerves. His mouth goes dry every time she types out Mika’s name.
Just as Shu is beginning to give up hope, a nurse appears in the doorway. “Itsuki Shu?” she calls. Shu leaps up and races towards her as quickly as his ankle will allow.
“Hello, yes, that’s me,” he says. He leans against the wall to support himself, nearly knocking a stack of pamphlets out of their holder. “Is he alright?”
“He’s asking for you.” She peers over Shu’s shoulder and frowns. “Who’s this?”
Ibara is right behind him, grinning in that faux-polite way that Shu detests. He salutes her. “I’m Saegusa Ibara, vice-president of Cosmic Production!” he says proudly. “Kagehira is one of my most profitab- my most treasured idols. It’s crucial that I receive the latest updates on his condition.”
The nurse nods slowly and pretends to check her clipboard. “Riiight. Okay. Well, if he’s up to it, you can talk to him after Itsuki does.” She looks to Shu and smiles warmly. “Are you ready?”
Mika has his eyes closed when Shu enters his room. His right arm is covered in a cast and sling. He’s wearing a blue hospital gown, his ruined jacket draped over the chair in the corner. Shu thinks he’s never been happier to see something he spent so long making in shambles.
“Kagehira?” he whispers hopefully. At the sound of Shu’s voice, Mika opens his eyes, squinting around the room until his gaze lands on his partner. He smiles and lifts his healthy arm a little, opening and closing his fist. Shu pulls up the chair and takes Mika’s hand in both of his.
“Oshi-san,” Mika says quietly. “Hi.”
“Hello,” Shu says. He stares intently at Mika as he speaks, still in disbelief at the fact that he’s really there. They regularly spend months at a time apart while he’s in Paris, and yet these mere minutes of separation have worn on him more than the past year combined. “How are you feeling?” he manages to add.
Mika sighs. “My head hurts, but less. My arm feels worse. And it’s itchy,” he mumbles. “I’ve got a com-cushion. Consussion. What’s it called. One of those. Ngh, I’m tired.”
Shu chuckles weakly. He’s suppressing the urge to cry again, this time out of relief. Mika is still himself, despite everything that’s happened to him.
They sit quietly for a few moments, their shared silence only interrupted by the occasional beeping of Mika’s heart monitor. Eventually, Mika frowns and removes his hand from Shu’s, resting his arm protectively over his own chest.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“What on Earth are you apologizing for?” Shu replies. He reaches for Mika’s hand again, but Mika jerks away from him.
“For ruinin’ the Live, and ruinin’ your costume, and messin’ everythin’ up.”
Shu is so stunned that an incredulous laugh falls from his lips. “What?” he says. “I was worried about you, not about the damn Live. I couldn’t care less about the costume, either.”
He deliberately withholds the fact that by ‘worried’, he’d actually meant ‘hysterically screaming over Mika’s unconscious body’, aware that it would only give Mika more to stress about when he’s supposed to be recovering. His stomach churns when he realizes Mika is eventually going to watch the videos of him losing his mind. In the four years he’s known Mika, he’s never once lost his composure like that; in fact, he’s never even come close.
His mind briefly offers up an even more disturbing mental image. Had things gone even slightly differently, there would be hundreds of videos of Mika’s untimely death plastered all over the Internet. Even though Mika is undeniably, wonderfully alive in front of him, Shu’s breathing stops for a moment as his imagination possesses him.
Mika could have died, the darkest corner of his mind reminds him. In the universe next door, you’re weeping over his body.
“Ngh. I noticed that somethin’ was off about the stage before the lights came up, but I didn’t say anythin’, and I should’ve -” Mika explains in a rush.
And he’s gone, and he’s never coming back.
A surge of some entirely foreign emotion crashes into Shu as he watches Mika babble.
And you never got to tell him how much you cared for him until it was too late for him to possibly hear you.
“I love you,” he interrupts, compelled by the desperate need to say something, anything, before Mika fades out of being altogether. He’s not even sure what he means by it, exactly, but it can’t go unsaid any longer.
Mika’s face lights up. “I - I love ya too, Oshi-san!” he says before wincing. “Nngh. Too loud.”
“Don’t strain yourself!” Shu says.
Mika giggles delightedly, kicking his legs under the sheets. “I can’t help it. It’s so excitin’ to hear ya say it. If I have to bust my head open to get ya to tell me ya love me, I’m gonna throw myself off our stages more often,” he declares. Shu rests his hand on Mika’s thigh, and Mika instantly stops thrashing around.
“You don’t have to do that. I’ll say it to you as often as you’d like,” Shu says. The sinister voice occupying his head has finally gone silent, and he feels as if he can breathe uninhibited once more. Against his better judgment, he leans over and kisses Mika on the cheek. It’s not the sort of thing he’s ever done before, but it feels right, and Mika seems to take it well. He leans back against his pillow, closes his eyes, and sighs contentedly.
“Oshi-san loves me...” he whispers. He drops his arm by his side and lets Shu take his hand again.
Shu stays with him for a few more minutes, although they don’t exchange any more words. Both of them are far too tired to undertake the serious discussion that really ought to come with a confession of such magnitude. When a nurse enters to take Shu in for an X-ray with a wheelchair in tow, she finds him asleep in his chair, his fingers still intertwined with Mika’s.