Chapter Text
Nanami sat in the waiting area of the penthouse at Starstruck Promotion, the agency she’d signed with just a month ago. When she’d been discovered, she’d been working at a cosplay cafe in Kawagoe, simply trying to make ends meet. The job hadn’t been her favorite or her first choice, but the hourly pay was the highest she could get unless she built her network or went to college, and so she’d sucked it up. Never in a million years had she imagined her dream of becoming an idol would come true, that one of the managers would meet a client at her cafe. Nor had she imagined that she’d be the one to wait on him. Something about her must’ve impressed him, because after he’d given her his card, one thing had led to another. Then, after a quick audition, she’d found herself whisked away to train for her new career as an idol.
Now she was here, waiting to see one of the top executives of the company. She hadn’t been told what the meeting was about yet, just that it was important for her debut, which was scheduled in the next few weeks. It was funny to think that it’d only been several weeks ago when she’d been finishing high school exams, and now suddenly she was a graduate, an adult, an idol. She had no idea what she was doing.
It was all happening so fast, she thought, glancing around the empty room, from the turquoise accent wall behind the front desk to the large windows overlooking the city. She would’ve been lying if she’d said she wasn’t nervous, because her stomach was turning somersaults and her hands were clammy and her legs were shaking. Somehow, she felt like this wasn’t normal for most idols starting out.
The door next to the seats clicked open suddenly, and Nanami lifted her head. “Nanami Momozono? Fukuda-san will see you now.”
Nanami drew in a breath, her heart rabbiting. Nodding, she stood, clenching her fists as soon as Mr. Fukuda’s secretary had turned around. She dug her nails into her sweaty palms as she walked down the long hallway, taking in the sterile, streamlined decor — the reflective surface of the polished, slate blue granite flooring; the wall to ceiling, thick glass windows overlooking the towering high rises around them; the blank, white walls devoid of artwork. There was no sound apart from the clack of the secretary’s pumps against the flooring and the whisper of an industrial air conditioning unit. Somehow, the near silence raised the hairs over her arms and legs.
They arrived at the end of the hallway. The secretary opened the first door and paused at the threshold. “Fukuda-san, Nanami Momozono is here to see you.”
“Thank you,” Mr. Fukuda said. “Nanami-chan, please come in.”
When Nanami peered past the secretary, she noticed a man with slicked back salt-and-pepper hair, a prominent gold watch, and a kind smile was holding out a hand to her, beckoning for her to come closer. He was backlit by the large windows that covered one wall, the morning sunlight spilling over the interior of the spacious office. She stepped inside, momentarily marveling at how expensive this all looked — the white, grey-veined marble flooring, the accent lighting over abstract, modern canvases decorating the walls… Hell, he even had a gas fireplace in here, she thought, glancing over at where it was embedded in a column at the midst of the room.
When the door shut behind her, she jolted back to the present — and that was when she realized she wasn’t alone with this man. There was a shuffling sound from one of the two chairs in front of the desk, but the person didn’t rise to greet her. Curious, she approached the desk. She’d barely gotten several steps into the room before the other occupant became visible, and she froze.
Immediately, her heart leapt into her throat and nearly out of her mouth because, slouching in one of the plush chairs with his arms crossed, sat none other than Kurama. Her heart hammered like mad, her mouth going to cotton and her tongue tying into so many knots she didn’t think she could introduce herself if she tried. For years, she’d followed his career, had harbored a crush on him from afar just like every other teenage girl, but she’d never imagined she’d actually meet him, not even when she rose the ranks and became a singer herself. After all, he was the number one idol in all of Japan, more than unreachable, but untouchable too. Suddenly, she felt faint.
“Nanami-chan, welcome.” Mr. Fukuda gestured to an empty chair across from his desk.
On gelatin legs, Nanami wobbled over and almost collapsed into the cushion that was a bit too big for her. She sank into it, feeling more awkward than she had in a long time. If she hadn’t been so shell-shocked, she might’ve asked what Kurama was here for. No, she thought, mortified, that was beyond rude. She should’ve at least introduced herself, but she was afraid if she opened her mouth nothing but a squeak would come out. Jittering, she snapped a glance in Kurama’s direction, scarcely able to breath.
“Come on, Momozono,” she thought, inwardly kicking herself. “Act like a person! Say hi!”
She took too long.
“I wanted to introduce you to our top performer,” Mr. Fukuda continued. “As I’m sure you already know, this is Kurama. He’s our best selling artist.”
“H-hi.” Nanami swallowed hard, tongue darting out to wet her lips.
During this exchange, Kurama remained unmoving except the light swing of one of his crossed legs. If he hadn’t been able to tell from the look on her face that she was freaking out, he would’ve been able to tell from the overbearing scent of adrenaline and cortisol that nearly bowled him over. Another newbie, he thought with a sigh. He was prepared to dismiss her like he did all the new idol wannabes, but then she spoke to him and he paused, taking a good look at her.
She was fairly attractive — pretty, even — but most of these girls were. Her clothes were relatively plain, though, off brand and worn. This girl needed a lot of work, he thought. But maybe that was part of her selling appeal — the fact that she was an everyday girl, that she was cute.
It took him a moment to recall that she’d greeted him, and then he drew his eyes to hers, finding something earnest yet restrained in them. A small sigh escaped him. “Hey,” he said, shifting his position to prop his cheek against his hand, leaning his elbow on the armrest.
“Oh, my god,” she thought, quivering. “He spoke to me. Kurama spoke to me.” She blinked, staring at him for so long that he finally scowled. Realizing she’d been rude, she sat up straighter. Unfortunately, she didn’t have a chance to remedy this situation.
Mr. Fukuda picked up the slack. “Kurama, this is Nanami Momozono. She’s our latest addition.”
“Yeah, I can see that.” Watching Nanami freeze, Kurama smirked. She was obviously infatuated. That got old, and this situation was no exception. It was too early in the morning, and he was too tired to deal with any sort of staring, especially the kind that made him feel like he had two heads.
Nanami’s cheeks burned as Kurama expressed how transparent she really was. The expression on his face made her wonder if he was mocking her or bored with her or what, but she didn’t particularly like it. It made her feel vulnerable, scrutinized, naked. She shifted in her seat, squirming, unsure of how to react. This was quickly getting uncomfortable.
Yet if she’d thought this was too much, she was sorely wrong, because their boss was only getting started with them. “You may have wondered why I called you both in here today.”
Kurama stifled a yawn. It wasn’t unusual for him to meet newbies, but it wasn’t usually in an executive's office. Normally, that was between them and the managers. That could only mean that Mr. Fukuda wanted him to do something, such as work with her.
“Hm, you want us to do a collab or something?” He inspected his long, painted nails, watching Nanami out of the corner of his eye.
Occasionally, Nanami looked at him, but she hadn’t made a peep. A slight frown furrowed Kurama’s brow. Weird. Typically, newbies lunged at the opportunity to work with him, even to the point of cutting one another down. But she hardly seemed enthusiastic at all. Maybe she was nervous, he thought, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes. That was just the other end of the spectrum — the spectrum of being treated like some sort of god.
“No, not quite,” Mr. Fukuda replied.
Mr. Fukuda rose from his seat and turned to the windows, hands clasped behind his back. Kurama bit back a scoff. So he wasn’t even going to look at them, he thought. Typical. It seemed whatever he had to say, he knew Kurama wouldn’t like it.
“We have high hopes Nanami-chan will be an up-and-coming solo artist,” Mr. Fukuda began. “She has the kind of charisma and energy that makes one successful in this industry. And she has ferocity that offsets her sweetness. It’s a unique flavor to the market, but it means she’s not suited for a girl group. However, debuting alone presents some challenges.”
At this, Nanami blushed, scuffing the toe of her shoe against the rug. She had no clue what to say to any of that. It wasn’t often that she received compliments — she’d never been popular in school, had never been noticed apart from being teased for her dad skipping town and abandoning her — so this was very new. The only thing that made her feel funny was the comment about marketing her, like she was a product. But she supposed that she was one in this industry.
From her right, Kurama snorted, and she bristled. A quick glance at him revealed that he’d lifted an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twisted almost mockingly. Suddenly, she felt like she was under a microscope, like he inspected her for her worthiness. And it made her wonder if he’d make fun of her too — just like her classmates had. No, she was just being defensive, she thought, shoving it aside. Regardless, his scrutiny didn’t feel good.
“Really? I don’t know; she seems pretty quiet and mousey to me.” Kurama smirked, now looking Nanami dead on, blatantly drawing his eyes up and down. Her face had grown even pinker. “Are you sure she’ll be good as a solo artist? Shy people don’t make it very far.”
All these girls were the same at the end of the day , he thought with an inward scoff. It eluded him why Mr. Fukuda thought this one was special. Especially when Starstruck’s “up-and-comer” couldn’t even make eye contact. What the actual fuck?
At Kurama’s words, shock struck her, and she found herself staring at his almost sneering face. He’d always seemed a little full of himself, but the other girls in training had assured each other that it was stage presence and nothing else. Still, none of them knew anything about him as a person, because he did a damn good job hiding it. Now, however, she began to think perhaps he wasn’t any different from anyone else. And that shook her to her core.
Gradually, her shock faded, and as he continued to narrow his eyes at her, it was replaced by heat. “Okay, this guy is officially a jerk,” she thought, clenching her fists in her lap, mouth setting in a pout. Despite the flare of indignation that flashed through her head, there was also this pressure building up behind her eyes. “Damn it,” she thought, digging her nails into her palms, jaw tensing as she tried to hold it back. She was already nervous enough, and now this person she’d admired for years had to come in and looked down his nose at her. And she’d done nothing to deserve this.
“I’m sure,” Mr. Fukuda continued, shooting Kurama a slight frown. “But I understand your concern. To make her debut a success, we have to ensure she makes an impression. We need some help thrusting her into the limelight.”
“Yeah, and? I don’t see why this is my problem.” Kurama fished his phone from his pocket, beginning to toy with it, barely paying attention.
He hated these meetings. They were always a waste of time. He had a million and one things to do, and he was already exhausted from yesterday’s industry party which had run late into the night. Now some corporate bigwig had dragged him out of his bed at ass o’clock in the morning, and he was done speaking in coded messages and vague words.
“Just tell me what the fuck you want already,” he thought. “I want to go home.”
Nanami stared as Kurama blew off not just his boss, but one of the highest executives in the company. Never in a million years would she have thought he’d have such audacity. “He’s so rude!” she thought. Maybe what people said about never meeting your heroes was true. Because right about now, she regretted having even dreamed about meeting him.
Ignoring Kurama’s dismissive tone, Mr. Fukuda continued. “It’s not your problem, exactly, but there is something I want you to do to help move her career along.”
A heavy sigh. It took all Kurama’s willpower not to toss his phone, not to get up and tell Mr. Fukuda he was leaving. “I figured.” He ran a hand through his hair, weary. “So if it’s not a collab, what’ll it be? Appearing on a talk show? Having her as an opening act? Performing as guest stars on a drama or something?” He bit back a groan. None of those things seemed like his idea of fun. “I have a reputation to uphold, you know. I can’t just make guest appearances for every new idol we bring on.”
An angry sound caught in Nanami’s throat; quickly, she swallowed it. “He acts like I’m such a burden!” she thought, scowling. Her hands trembled in her lap. “And I haven’t done anything yet! I don’t have anything to do with this!”
This seemed to finally get Mr. Fukuda’s attention. “Enough. This is part of your job, Kurama. And I hope you’ll be more welcoming towards Nanami-chan in the future, because you’re going to be spending a lot of time with each other.”
At this, Nanami blinked, shaking herself from her stupor. “Wait, what?” She gaped. Her, spend time with this guy? She wrinkled her nose. He wanted nothing to do with her. As much as it stung, it also made her want to put some distance between them too. Maybe she’d been infatuated with him, but she didn’t want to be his punching bag.
“As you know, being idols, your dating lives are determined by your manager. After a lot of thought, we’ve decided it’d be lucrative to Nanami-chan’s debut if she was seen as your girlfriend.”
At this, Nanami’s jaw dropped, her heart picking up its pace until she thought it’d explode. She’d never heard of this as a tactic to steal the spotlight. No matter how much she had to admit it’d grab people’s attention, the thought of being forced to spend time with someone who couldn’t stand her made her want to wither into the ground.
“What the hell? You can’t be serious!” she couldn’t help but sputter. It seemed Kurama was just as shocked, because he dropped his iPhone. He narrowly caught it, fumbling with the device until it fell into his lap.
“What?” Kurama burst out, the single syllable loud, vehement. A brief pause, and then he raised his voice. “Have you lost your mind? My audience is teenage girls! Do you know how vicious they can be?”
What kind of crack was this guy smoking? With a one note, dry laugh, Kurama thought sarcastically — he wondered where he could get some. Because this suit had to be sky high to suggest such a radical thing.
“There’s no way. No way in hell,” he said, voice wavering with stifled laughter.
“We’ve already taken your fans into consideration,” Mr. Fukuda said. “I know this is unconventional, but we believe in this case that any publicity is good publicity. It raises Nanami-chan’s desirability among the male population to be seen with you. Doesn’t every guy want to be you?”
Kurama nearly cackled. Yep, this guy was definitely smoking crack. “Are you kidding? If we do this, some crazy fan is gonna carve out Nanami’s kidneys with an icepick and sell them on eBay. This is gonna end so badly.”
Nanami couldn’t stay quiet a moment longer. It was clear Kurama wanted nothing to do with her, and the fact he talked about her without regard as to whether or not she was even in the room made this ten times worse. “Excuse me! I’m right here!” she snapped. Her breaths came heavier, her heart thudding.
That was when Kurama’s slate grey gaze moved in her direction. She immediately gulped, regretting her outburst, because this guy had the power to end her career before it’d even begun. Her and her impulsivity.
Kurama leaned closer to her, narrowing his eyes. “Don’t tell me you think this is a good idea.”
Unbelievable, he thought. Even if she was one of those girls who fawned over him, he couldn’t imagine she’d want to be placed into such a precarious position. Not when she’d earn herself the ire of thousands of his fans. And for what? A few headlines in a gossip magazine?
Kurama continued. “You’re a teenage girl, right? I bet every girl in your school was a fan. They’d gladly devour each other like wolves over me.”
Her face felt hotter. “What’s wrong with you? No one’s gonna carve out my kidneys, okay?” At this, he shot her a cold smirk, razing her with his eyes, an expression that made her want to smack him. The next words flew from her mouth before she could stop them. “I don’t know why so many girls like you if this is what you’re like in real life!”
That wiped the smile right off Kurama’s face. He leaned back slightly, stunned to silence. Her scowl and obstinate pout made him shiver, especially when her gaze was so fiery and piercing — and all of her anger was directed towards him. He couldn’t say any girl had ever spoken to him like this before.
What was worse? She acted like she hated him. And no girl had ever hated him like that before; at least, not since he’d become Kurama. His head spun.
“That’s enough,” Mr. Fukuda said, tone stern. “You’re both going to have to work together at some point.” He shook his head. “Listen, I’ll make a deal with you two.”
“Yeah?” Kurama stiffened. Who knew what kind of sadistic trick Mr. Fukuda had up his sleeve. Whatever it was, he didn’t like the sound of this deal.
“All you have to do is be seen together for two months. Then we’ll regroup and see how everyone’s feeling. Is that fair?”
Gradually, Nanami’s shoulders relaxed. Although she was still wary, although she didn’t want to put herself in the crossfire between Kurama’s attitude and whatever anyone else thought of her, limiting the amount of time she had to spend with him felt reasonable enough. “So…we only have to go to events together?” she asked.
“And be seen in public occasionally,” Mr. Fukuda agreed. “But there’s one other catch.” He sat again, expression suddenly serious. “Don’t let things escalate between you two. It won’t be a good look for you to be seen spending the night with each other. Is that clear?”
Nanami squirmed, and she was sure her face was bright red. It felt like she had a fever. “Uh huh, yeah, sure, that’s not a problem,” she said faintly.
Attending a few events here and there didn’t seem like too much of an ask. She could tolerate his public persona, after all. As for the rest…she couldn’t imagine that happening. Not in a million years.
As for Kurama, he could only sit unmoving and gape. His mind had shorted out, wiped clean, unable to conjure even the smallest of thoughts. It was just for two months, he reminded himself. And it didn’t sound like it’d require a huge amount of effort on his part. He’d have to go to those parties anyway. It wouldn’t suck up any additional time to arrive and leave with someone. So after a moment of silence, of Mr. Fukuda staring him down and Nanami flicking hesitant glances in his direction, he caved.
“Fine,” he sighed. Anything so he could go home. “As long as all I have to do is escort her to some parties and go out a few times. That’s it, right?”
Again, Nanami scowled. However, the fact that Kurama wouldn’t even look at her, that he spoke so dismissively like she wasn’t even in the room, made her flinch. A sharp pain pierced her chest and she quickly looked away. Even if he’d been a jerk, there was nothing fun about her crush treating her like she was an obligation, like she was disposable, like she was a carbon copy of any other girl. Her chin quivered slightly.
“Yes, that’s all we need you to do,” Mr. Fukuda confirmed. Here, he turned to Nanami. “What do you say, Nanami-chan?”
At this, Nanami shrugged. She didn’t think it’d be fun to spend time with someone who didn’t want her around, but at the same time, being a newbie was daunting. As long as he was cordial towards her in public, then she could handle it. Who knew? Maybe it’d even be nice to have a veteran to guide her at these sorts of events. That was, if he'd respect her.
“Okay,” she said reluctantly. Then, eyes snapping to Kurama’s, she added, “But only if you’re nice to me! Don’t be rude in public or complain about me. This isn’t my choice either, y’know.”
“Sheesh.” Kurama laid a hand on his forehead and sighed, shutting his eyes. “Yeah, sure. I’ll have to put my game face on anyway.”
“Then it’s settled,” Mr. Fukuda said. He rose from his seat and rounded the desk.
That was the cue, Kurama thought with a frown. He stood as well; Nanami remained where she was. So he met her gaze and jerked his head towards the door. A second of blank staring elapsed, and then her eyes widened. She scrambled to her feet. Idiot, Kurama thought. But he’d play nice; after all, he’d promised.
“I’m glad we came to an understanding. Your manager will contact you with your first scheduled public appearance.” Mr. Fukuda crossed the office and opened the door. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have another meeting to attend to.”
“Sure,” Kurama said, but inside he was more than a little annoyed. He waited until they’d finished wrapping up their goodbyes, and then he headed down the hall, only stopping once to glance at Nanami, who looked like a deer in headlights. She had no clue what she was doing, he thought with an eye roll. “Are you coming or are you just gonna stand there all day?”
Realizing she didn’t know where she was or how to get out of there, she nodded and trailed after Kurama. She felt tongue tied, unsure of what to say. So she said the only thing she could think of. “You’re still being rude to me,” she mumbled.
Disbelief flooded him. Did she really have no clue at all? "Rude? Seriously?" He turned around to face her, his mouth sharply downturned. “Can you blame me? I barely know your name! I have to be careful, you know. People will stalk me.”
Her face grew warm. “Well, I wouldn’t do that,” she mumbled. “But I get it.”
Even though he was suspicious of her, he had to admit she hadn’t thrown herself at him. Yet. He still had to be careful, but if he was going to work with her for such a lengthy amount of time, then he had no choice but to have a way to contact her if need be. That didn’t mean he was going to be so loose with his own boundaries. It was time she understood what dating him, even in pretend, entailed.
He released a heavy sigh, then took a step towards her. “All right, look.” He held out his phone. “If we’re gonna ‘date,’ then you should give me your number. And we should set some ground rules.”
“Uh…okay.”
She accepted his phone, her heart pounding relentlessly. She was giving Kurama her number; Kurama was going to text her. Or maybe he’d even call her. As rude as she found him, this was bizarre and surreal. It was everything her sixteen-year-old self had daydreamed of. Her eighteen-year-old self was wiser than that, though. Or so she told herself.
She finished saving her number into his phone and then held it out to him. He accepted it, putting it in his pocket. After a beat of hesitation, she pulled out her own phone, slightly embarrassed for him to see how old it was. “Hey, if we’re exchanging numbers—”
“No, I’ll text you.” He put his hand on her phone, pushing it away. “I want to make sure you’re not crazy first. Let’s go through our manager for now.”
Nanami wanted to yell at him that there was no point in exchanging numbers then, but she didn’t. Instead, she shot him a cool glance and put her phone back in her bag. “I guess my people will call your people,” she said, voice clipped.
He ignored it. Instead, he jammed his hands in his pockets and stared into her eyes. “All right, so other than the texting thing — I have one other major rule.”
“And that would be?” She pursed her lips, eyes halfway shut.
Without missing a beat, he replied, “Don’t touch me. We can hold hands when we arrive at events and when we leave, but don’t touch me otherwise. Got it?”
Her gaze slid out the window and she hummed. “Got it.”
This was awful, she thought. While she wanted to be understanding, to be incriminated like this when he didn’t even know her at all was humiliating. A part of her wanted to fling back rules of her own, but her mind was coming up with a blank. Because the way he spoke to her, the way he looked at her like it was unbearable to pretend to date her, made her chest feel like it’d been stomped in.
Drawing in a painful sounding breath, she asked, “Anything else?”
“Nope. Just stay out of my way, don’t get too cozy, and we’re good.” He offered her a tight smile that didn’t meet his eyes. “Don’t take it personally, okay? I don’t know you, but I’m very tired of girls throwing themselves at me. I have no interest in whatever you think this is. Because the truth is — it’s nothing. It’s just a job.”
She swallowed hard, clenching her teeth. As angry as she was, she couldn’t find the words to lash out at him. Not when he told her she didn’t matter, not when he viewed her as just another girl, one he had to put up with until the job was done. Maybe she hadn’t wanted a relationship with anyone before, but that didn't mean this didn’t hurt like hell.
For a moment, she stood stiffly, her face hot and the pressure building behind her stinging eyes. She clenched and unclenched sweaty hands, her heart thrashing wildly, her chest tight. “Come on — say something,” she urged herself. After all, he was still staring at her, probably waiting for her to respond, to affirm that she understood. But she couldn’t even bring herself to say a word. Because she was one second away from breaking.
Before she could stop it, her chin started to quiver, her vision blurring and swimming. “Oh, no,” she thought, “I’m going to cry in front of him.” After what he’d said, she felt he didn’t deserve her tears, but the dam she’d tried so hard to build was cracking. She had to get out of here.
Although Kurama knew he’d expressed his annoyance, he hadn’t expected Nanami to react like this. Was she really about to cry? The scent of saline and the shimmering of her eyes told him that she was. Maybe he’d been too harsh on her. Groaning, he rubbed the back of his hair. What a headache.
“Hey, I’m not saying I hate you,” he said, attempting to soften his tone. “I don’t know anything about you—”
He didn’t even get a chance to finish. Because she darted past him and fled down the hall. He stared after her, gaping, jaw unhinged. In the next second, she’d flung open the door to the staircase and disappeared. Was she really going to take the stairs all the way down? Somehow, the fact she wanted to get away from him that badly left a bad taste in his mouth.
Cursing under his breath, he hurried down the hall and threw open the same door, then entered the stairwell. Below, he heard the clamoring of someone running down the steps. Shit, she really was running away. He started descending the stairs as well, opening his mouth to call her name and tell her to wait, but then there was the creak of a door opening, followed by the thunderous echo of it slamming shut, resounding off the metal steps. And, with that, she was gone.
A heavy sigh escaped him and he laid a hand over an eye, slumping against the cinderblock wall. “Well, fuck,” he said aloud, his voice bouncing off the walls unnaturally loud.
The very thought of chasing after her drained him more than he already was. Nor did he want to come across as desperate for her approval. He’d deal with it later, he decided. It wasn’t like he knew which floor she’d gotten off on anyway.
With a small sigh, he walked up the few steps he’d taken and then exited the stairwell. He’d try to set the record straight the next time he saw her. Maybe after some time to herself, she’d feel better and realize that he was just doing what he had to do.
As for Nanami, she’d gone as far down the staircase as possible until she’d heard the door open a couple of flights above. That sound had sent a spike of panic up her throat. She’d heeded the impulsive voice that urged her to escape, and so she’d hurriedly exited onto another floor. Worried that he’d chase after her, she’d raced down the hall until she’d found the women’s bathroom, and then she’d slammed herself into a stall. There, she sank down onto the toilet, holding her face in her hands, and she cried.
She didn’t know how long she sat there and cried, but it was at least for ten or fifteen minutes. Maybe she would’ve stayed there longer, but she wanted to go home, where she’d have the privacy to be as much of a mess as she wanted. As soon as she got home, she decided, sniffing and blowing her nose into toilet paper, she was going to put on sweatpants, watch a movie, and eat as much chocolate as her heart desired.
With that in mind, she finished wiping her nose and then exited the stall, going to the sinks. Gods, she looked awful. One glance in the mirror showed that her mascara had run in streaks down her cheeks, her eyes red and puffy, her lips still jutting out and quivering. She looked like she’d had her heart smashed. And, maybe in a sense, she had.
Sighing, she turned on the water and grabbed a few paper towels. She did her best to clean her face, but there was only so much she could do without make-up remover. Eventually, she decided it was a lost cause and turned off the water. She took a few deep breaths, gathered her courage, then left the bathroom.
Because she didn’t want anyone to see the mess that was her face — especially when she was so new to the agency — she kept her head down. Unfortunately, that also meant she didn’t really see where she was going. And she slammed right into someone’s back. Instantly, she froze. What if it was Kurama? Even so, she forced out her apology.
“Sorry,” she squeaked, clinging to the strap of her purse, her eyes screwed shut.
There was a pause, and she heard the other person shifting. Oh no, they were turning to face her. Once again, she wanted to run. But she didn’t get the chance.
“Would you be more careful?” a voice snapped.
Crap, she thought, her face even hotter than before. Now she’d drawn attention to her misery and pissed someone else off. “I’m sorry—” She tried to smile, but then she made the mistake of opening her eyes.
Immediately, her smile twitched at the edges. Because she found herself looking up at a man with silver-white hair that came to his chin — and there, atop his head, was a set of fox ears. A gasp caught in her throat as recognition clicked. This was Tomoe, the number two idol in all of Japan. In that moment, she berated herself for not having been more careful with the agency she’d signed with. She’d never dreamed that she’d enter the same talent pool as such famous people.
Realizing she was gaping just like she had with Kurama, she quickly shoved the thought from her mind. Not keen to have a repeat of her interaction with Kurama — of having two popular male idols treat her like dirt in one day — she tensed and prepared to make a run for it. But her legs wouldn’t move. She was frozen to the spot, mortified.
Why was this strange girl staring at him like a fish out of water? Tomoe had never seen her before, but one look at her and he was certain she was an idol in training. After all, she had the look that their executive had been scouting for, and she was certainly too young to be a random office worker. Her expression all but confirmed it, because she’d been crying, which meant things had gotten overwhelming. This industry would chew a person up and spit them out. But if she couldn’t handle it, then she shouldn’t be here.
A frown lit on his brow and he crossed his arms. “What are you doing?”
Her mouth flapped open and shut for a moment and, briefly, she was rendered speechless under his scrutinizing gaze. Finally, she stammered out, “Wh-what do you mean?”
“What are you doing running about and crying? That is inappropriate in a place like this.” He studied her, hoping that his admonishment would wake her up to the reality that she was ruining her image.
This was too much. The way he looked at her reminded her of how Kurama had inspected her, of how he’d deemed her inadequate. It shook her confidence all over again, making her think perhaps the executives were making a big mistake signing her on as a solo artist. Her chin quivered.
“What’s it matter to you whether I cry? Or where I cry?” she blurted, attempting to save face.
One of his brows arched up. This girl was clearly overemotional, he thought. That wouldn’t do at all. “You should not be crying in public. It is a bad look.” His lip curled slightly.
“Maybe it’s a bad look because I’m having a bad day!” she snapped, clenching her fists.
This woman, he thought with a huff. If she thought that was an excuse for such behavior, then she must’ve been quite new indeed. Well, someone would have to tell her eventually, he decided. “We all have bad days,” he muttered. “Perhaps you simply lack the maturity to deal with it.”
After what Kurama had done, she couldn’t take any more of it. And she refused to stick around for yet another person tear her down just because she was new here. Fresh tears welled up in her eyes, her pride be damned. She had to get out of here.
Although she would’ve loved to have come up with a witty comment, the best she could manage was to stutter, “J-jerk!”
Embarrassed at her lack of conviction, at the fact she’d broken down in front of not one but two famous people in a single morning, she purposely shoved past him and tore down the hall, back to the staircase. She’d take the whole forty some flights down, she decided, whimpering. Because she couldn’t risk running into Tomoe or Kurama on the elevator.
With a small sob, she took the steps two at a time, ignoring the cramp of her legs. What was meant to be the day her dreams came true had quickly devolved, that rosy vision dashed by snide remarks and the same borderline bullying she’d been accustomed to at school. Did things really not change when one grew up? Whether they did or not, she just hoped she could scrape together the courage to pick herself up and face these people again. She hoped that they wouldn’t play a part in deciding her future as an idol.