Yamada Ryosuke & Chinen Yuri
Yamada x Chinen
Angst, Fluffy, AU, AOB, Alpha/Omega
R (Non-explicit) at the start, but the Epilogue will likely be NC-17
MxM Relationship, Alpha/Omega Traits, AU
“…and you should always remember that this is part of who we are, don’t ever forget ab—”
Ryosuke’s eyes widened, his small hands holding tightly onto the flowing fabric of his grandmother’s skirt where she sat telling him and his siblings the same story that he’d heard so many times he thought even at the age of five he could somehow cobble it together well enough to retell it with no issues.
Ryosuke turned his head, his eyes skimming past his sisters to see his mother standing in the doorway, her expression somehow not really her, somehow wrong as her mouth was set in a thin line instead of smile, brows drawn down into a scowl, “I have asked you to stop telling the children these stories…”
“They need to know, to remember,” Ryosuke jerked his head to look back at his grandmother whose hand had come to rest on the top of his head, “…it’s their heritage after all and the–“
“No,” his mother’s voice was firm, and he couldn’t stop his eyes from widening, his lips pursing into a pout, his fingers grasping onto his grandmother’s skirt even harder as his mother’s arms reached around him, lifting him off the floor as he desperately tried to hold onto his grandmother, “It is a strange mixture of mythology, mysticism, and fairy tales.”
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” came the soft, soothing words, his grandmother’s voice like a whisper against his heart, gentle, and Ryosuke felt tears swelling in his eyes, his head turning to look at his grandmother whose eyes seemed to be filled with words he could never understand as she held his attention, “It’s okay Ryo-chan,” she smiled gently, “Obey your mother…”
“Exactly,” his mother said, pulling him away, his fingers losing grip on the gathered fabric, his heart beating wildly in his chest, “Come on girls, it’s time to go.”
Ryosuke heard his sisters following, his eyes held fast to his grandmother who was still looking at him with tender affection, “Obey your mother,” she repeated softly, “…but trust your heart Ryo-chan.”
“Trust my heart,” Ryosuke whispered softly.
“Trust your heart,” his grandmother confirmed, her hand lifting to wave as his mother huffed, her arms tight around him as she shifted him to her hip.
“That’s enough,” his mother snapped, her voice firm and cold, his eyes drawn to her, not liking the feelings that were washing over him. Her eyes met his as she sat him on the floor to put his sister’s shoes on, “It’s okay, Ryosuke, everything is fine…”
He felt himself shaking, twisting his hands into his lap as he felt another tear fall down his cheek, wanting to ask her why she was so mad, was she mad at him? Did he do something wrong?
His mother sighed heavily, her shoulders dropping, “I’m sorry I snapped, I just…your grandmother is confused, that’s all.”
“Isn’t what she says true?” Chihiro asked, her hand on Ryosuke’s shoulder, “I learned about it in school.”
“True or not,” his mother spoke firmly, “These stories just keep you all fixated on what was, and I want you to see what is and what is yet to be.”
Her hand reached forward, brushing Chihiro’s hair back affectionately, “Do you understand?”
“Yes, Momma,” Chihiro nodded, watching as she picked up Misaki, then reached forward to take Ryosuke’s hand, her eyes soft when they met his own.
“Do you understand?”
Ryosuke studied her, wanting to make her happy, always caring so much about her feelings, knowing all she wanted was for him to be happy too, nodding slowly because he hoped maybe one day he could understand even if he didn’t right now.
Yuri stood in front of the television watching his favorite show, Shounen Club, his eyes skimming the stage with all of the boys on it, the lights, the glitter, the sounds, the voices, all mesmerizing to him. All he could think was…that somehow, some way…all he wanted in the whole world was to be on that stage.
Please…I need to go there.
He’d been admitted to Johnny’s Entertainment, his mother had sent in an application and taken him to an interview, signing the contract that same day—and even though they’d put him in a few television shows, he hadn’t been back to Tokyo for anything other than those few jobs since then. It wasn’t that they didn’t want him, of course they did, but his parent’s work kept them away and it was expensive to try to take him there, so they only called him for jobs when it was short term and not demanding.
He didn’t really care about it at first, neither concerned for the money or the fame or the attention or the work—he just liked the way his Mom smiled, her pride clear, so he did it for her.
So, at the start, it hadn’t really mattered that he was mostly a “Johnny” by name alone, as he didn’t really participate in any of the work the other boys did—he just didn’t feel particularly invested in the whole scene one way or another, but then…he’d seen him.
The only boy he could see.
He felt maybe the only boy he would ever see.
His hand moved out to touch the television screen, landing on the boy who was kneeling down by the man who was singing…he wasn’t sure who he was, but from the moment he’d seen him, he’d felt like he couldn’t take a full breath. Like the air was always held just a little in reserve, and he didn’t understand, couldn’t make sense of it…because he didn’t even know the boy—yet, somehow it felt to him as if he knew him—deeply, fully, without knowing.
This made less than zero sense to him at the tender age of eleven years old…yet, sometimes he would still straddle the line between reality and fairy tales, and all he could think about was meeting this boy.
At the same time, he was quite practical and he knew in his heart that the only way this dream would ever come true was if he determined it—not secure in this vague idea of fate. Giving yourself over to the will of powers beyond your own seemed lazy at best, and downright negligent at worst. No, despite wishing on stars and pleas to the heavens, there was no wisdom in relying on chance, fate, or other unknown factors to move his life in the proper direction to ensure his happiness.
No, that was his role to play.
He began to beg his parents to take him to Tokyo, to get him to the office, he wanted to work. At least, that’s what he told them, but in truth, he was consumed by wanting to meet the boy, by wanting to stand next to him, to see if the warmth he sensed from him radiated outward to where he could feel it up close. To dance beside him, as somehow in his heart he knew, they’d have the perfect rhythm together.
He didn’t even really want to dance, not really—he’d always been far more interested in tumbling and gymnastics, but after seeing the boy on his television he couldn’t stop thinking about dancing with him—getting his sister to teach him some of the dance moves she used in her classes, begging her to find out information from her friends in Tokyo—who is he?
Who is he?
What’s his name?
Why can’t I stop thinking about him?
Well, maybe not that last one, no, he opted to keep his secret feelings closely guarded, not ashamed, not particularly bothered, but somehow, they felt sacred, and he didn’t want to give them away to anyone.
As he began learning to dance, his mind slowly changed, and it began to seem like such fun, to maybe stand on that stage, to have all of the attention on you–well, it was quite confusing, because honestly, he didn’t particularly like to be looked at when he was just being himself, but…when he did things wanting attention?
Nothing compared to everyone seeing him and acknowledging him.
He felt like standing on that stage might feel like that—and maybe standing on that stage with the boy…then, everything would be right in his world.
Please…I need to go there.
His hand lifted to his chest, rubbing lightly the ache he felt there, something that seemed to be there all the time these days.
I need to go there so I can take a deep breath again.
“His name is Yamada Ryosuke,” his older sister, Saya, announced, “He’s your age, and he’s been there for just a little while—he still hasn’t even been given a mic yet.”
Yuri stared at her, wanting to grab her and shake her, to pull from her every single bit and bobble of information she knew, but she was so painfully slow in the telling, “…and!?”
“They said he was short,” she shrugged, “Why in the world do you want to know all of this anyway?”
He blinked at the question, biting his tongue to stop himself from blurting out, ‘because he’s my everything’, narrowing his eyes as he tried to think of something to say that would make her stop asking questions but not make her mad enough to stop helping him get info.
“He’s a good dancer, I want to learn to dance like him,” to him it felt like this would be a safe answer, but Saya’s eyes widened.
“Since when do you care about the other Johnny’s?”
“I don’t care about the other Johnny’s!” Yuri rolled his eyes.
I only care about the one…the boy…Yamada Ryosuke.
“Then why am I driving my friends crazy for info about him?”
He struggled to explain, unsure of what would satisfy her without revealing too much, deciding to use her competitive nature against her in this case, “Know the competition, that’s all. If I do get to Tokyo, it’s best to not to have any surprises.”
She leaned back in her chair, nodding, “Smart thinking…I’ll see what else I can find out.”
Yuri wasn’t sure what Saya thought at this point to be honest. It wasn’t like she ever called him out on his strange requests or even subtly hinted that she thought it was bizarre or odd—rather, to him at least, it seemed she just wanted him to be happy—and if allowing him this…this…perhaps borderline unhealthy obsession with Ryosuke to remain then she’d allow it. There were times he even felt like she had an extraordinary amount of compassion toward his curiosity and incessant need to discover everything humanly possible about him.
And then…there were those days like today—where she helped him understand what he was feeling—where she supported him.
“Here,” she slid the magazine across the coffee table to Yuri as she plopped down into the chair, having just arrived home from practice.
He blinked, looking over at her from his position in the floor where he’d been stretching while watching an afternoon program, tilting his head as he tried to make sense of what she’d offered him, “What…what’s this?”
Saya shrugged, the corner of her lips curling up into a grin as she leaned forward, to flip the pages of the magazine until it laid open before him with a heading—“Johnny’s Jr. in Hawaii”.
Yuri scrambled up onto his knees as his eyes were instantly drawn to him, to Ryosuke, standing there with the brightest smile like a ray of sunshine upon the pages, his warmth reaching out to Yuri even in this single moment of time based on something that Ryosuke did that probably happened months ago—yet, it mattered not to him, because he felt it.
I feel it.
His hand moved to his chest as his eyes were drawn to the hand touching Ryosuke’s shoulder, following the line to the Junior behind him who was holding his shoulder, just letting his hand rest there but Yuri couldn’t help but swallow hard, trying to tamp down the bubbling anxiety over seeing this stranger touch Ryosuke.
Yuri frowned, irritated with himself that he couldn’t just be happy.
After all, this was the first time he’d seen pictures of Ryosuke in any magazines, and surely that was a lovely thing, given the fact that it meant that he might be progressing, might have gotten noticed.
I mean God knows he should be…I can’t believe he’s been in the back for so long.
He shrugged off the odd melancholic feelings the picture tried to press into him, looking again at Ryosuke’s soft, sunny smile, feeling the negative emotions dissipate like a bubble popping instantly.
His hand shook as he turned the page, his eyes instantly drawn to the image that spanned the entire space—Ryosuke, drinking from a straw with another Junior beside him…and his eyes were so soft—like they held magic and memories and undiscovered truths—causing Yuri’s tummy to twitter excitedly with joy. The next scene brought the image of the boy, the beautiful smile on his face somehow feeling like it was meant only for him—and Yuri couldn’t help but smile himself, because the radiant touch of the warmth spread across his skin again.
Next there was a double layout which featured an image of Ryosuke sitting on one side by himself—the other containing a scene depicting him and the other Junior from before goofing off together.
Yuri tilted his head, unsure why he didn’t feel the same debilitating jealousy or possessiveness with the boy on this page with Ryosuke, nothing bubbling up inside of him like it had with the first one, but somehow there was nothing like that there. He leaned forward, his finger landing on the page as he ran it over the smooth surface, trying to understand why this didn’t bother him, yet, when he looked at the picture of Rysouke sitting, his soft gentle smile seeming to speak to him on so many levels—and his eyes, so full of knowing, something beyond his years, all Yuri could think was that he felt it too, he understood.
Yet, beyond what was easily seen with the eyes, it felt to Yuri that he was able to reach just beyond, troubled by the feeling that there was worry present there—underneath the pretense of giving the camera what it asked for—he felt…sadness and worry.
Surely, these were not emotions attributed to boys their age, not generally, but he sensed them, heavy and strong as they flowed between him and the page. His mind swirled with the desire to fix whatever it was, because regardless of why or what had cast this shadow across Ryosuke, Yuri felt a compulsion to take care of him.
He should only be happy.
Suddenly, all that mattered to Yuri was that he felt beyond all reason that this boy should never, ever be sad, should never struggle, should only ever have good and wonderful things in his life.
I’ll see to it.
I’m going to come there, and I will remove that worry, that sadness from you.
When he looked back at the other picture, he understood then, he could see the truth.
It jumped out at him as if the words on a billboard, impossible to miss.
His heart clenched, his hand lifting to touch his own chest as the negative feeling blossomed.
He didn’t want that, he definitely didn’t want it…and he knew that this was the entertainment industry and surely rivalries were normal, but to him at least, it seemed there was no competition in the first place…obviously, Ryosuke was the best.
No one could come close to him, could touch his perfection.
He sighed, knowing it was unrealistic and he needed to figure out how to balance this need to see Ryosuke as something other, but that was something he’d consider a different day—flipping the page to see Ryosuke standing with all the boys on the beach.
“He really is short,” Yuri murmured absently at how he stood at least a head lower than all the other boys in the line.
“He’s tiny,” Saya agreed, causing Yuri to jump, having been so lost in the magazine he’d forgotten she was even there.
“Yeah,” Yuri looked at her wide-eyed, feeling raw and vulnerable having been caught studying these images so closely, wondering what Saya thought.
He blinked when she reached out to touch his hand, squeezing his fingers softly before releasing them to draw them under her legs to sit on them, “It’s okay to feel this way.”
Yuri swallowed roughly, the air between them feeling heavy, unsure of what he was supposed to say, wanting to deny that there was anything unusual at all about how he felt about this boy, but knowing full well they were far past that and there was no point to deny it anyway, obviously Saya was not stupid.
“I…I don’t…I don’t really understand it…” Yuri lifted his shoulders into a shrug, wanting to make sense of it, to break it down until he could, but then Saya leaned forward, her eyes wide, holding his own in a way that demanded his full attention, rendering him unable to look away from her.
“There’s nothing to understand,” she spoke firmly, “A million people may move across the canvas of our lives like a pencil stroke, stark and quick—meant to put a mark for something else to come along and grow on top of it. But…then, there are those who move across the space like a wide stroke of a paintbrush, vibrant, alive, bringing color and breathing life into what was once just an empty void waiting to be shown how to shine.”
“That’s what he is, who he is…” she glanced down to the magazine, “Does…do you feel…warm…” she swallowed, and he could tell she was wondering if she should say anything at all, but then she pushed through it, speaking quickly, “…do you feel warm when you look at him?”
Yuri blinked, nodding slowly as he looked down at the page, wondering what she saw, if she saw the boy the same way he did.
“Yeah,” Saya bit her lip, her eyes moving back to Yuri, and when he looked at her, he wanted to hug her because while he normally saw her as self-assured and confident and bold—right now she seemed to be raw and exposed—so small, “I…I’ve felt that feeling too…for a while now—there’s a boy in the town over, and he’s on their soccer team, and every time I see his picture in the newspaper it’s like the sun grows brighter, even if I’m in a dark room. It’s…I don’t really understand…but…”
“It’s okay,” Yuri whispered, nodding, “It’s okay, we…it’s just that we feel stronger than others, yeah? Like…we just feel things and that is okay…I think it’s okay.”
“I kinda wish I didn’t sometimes,” she frowned, “I just want to be like the other girls who are so casual about everything, but I can’t seem to be, even though I pretend I am, I’m really not…”
Yuri hummed in understanding, because that would be something he really knew by his own heart—this was heavy and there was nothing casual about how he felt when he thought of Ryosuke—rather, it felt vital—like a lifeline he needed to have in his world, and that he wouldn’t be able to survive if it were broken.
It had never occurred to Yuri to wonder this though, to wonder what it would be like to not care, to just not feel this emotion at all, to not have this strong attachment to this boy in the world, instantly feeling bereft at the very thought, “I would hate it, I don’t want that—I…I would be lost without it.”
Saya inhaled slowly, and as much as she wanted to say she didn’t feel the same way she couldn’t, “Me too…even if I say I wish it wasn’t like this…I can’t really fathom what it would be like to have this emptiness inside of me where he is right now.”
They sat in silence for a moment, each of them struggling with the idea of what this all meant, of what it was, and why it was something they felt, and it seemed like others didn’t—or if they did, they sure were hiding it very well. It wasn’t like they could ask anyone either, not really, because obviously, something about this was certainly not normal…not the typical way things happened, and surely it would be far too easy for someone to misinterpret their feelings for something nefarious.
“Do you just want him to be happy?” Yuri wondered, looking back at Saya, waiting for her response as she sighed softly.
“It’s all I want.”
“Like…it feels like that’s what the purpose of your life is? To…to make him happy? Like all that could matter is how what I do…who I am…is here to bring him happiness?”
“Yeah,” Saya agreed, “It’s weird because…I’m me, right? Right?”
Yuri nodded, waiting for her to make sense of this, maybe help him better understand, her voice soft, “I’m me, and I love to draw, and I love to do gymnastics, and dance, and be silly, I love music, and I love to read, and I have all of these complex personality traits like anyone else, but then…there’s this extra part of me, this little bit of a part of my…my…”
Her hand raised up to touch her heart, “…my soul…that…needs to see him happy…maybe more than my own happiness…maybe more than anything…I want him to be happy.”
“Me too,” Yuri agreed, rubbing his chest where his heart panged at the thought of Ryosuke being unhappy.
“Have you talked to him?” Saya shuffled down off the chair she was sitting in, settling down onto the floor so she was sitting directly across from Yuri, “Have you talked to him, Yur?”
Yuri tilted his head, unsure of what she meant, because obviously, he hadn’t, he didn’t even know him, and Ryosuke didn’t even know he was alive, but at the same time, she was so earnest in the question, so expectant like it was very important that Yuri understand what she was asking so he tried to make sense of it, “I…I haven’t…I don’t even really know him…how would I talk to hi—”
“Not physically,” Saya whispered, and her expression was a strange mixture of concern and excitement, “Like…not here…” her hands touched her head, “Not like…mentally, I guess…but…like…”
She closed her eyes tightly, her hand touching the middle of her chest, pointing to her heart, “…here.”
Yuri’s eyes widened, his breath caught in his throat, because he wanted to deny this, to say no, because he recognized this was some next level rubber walled room, straight-jacket kind of crazy territory right here, but he couldn’t—his head nodding yes even while his mind screamed no.
It was just that he really could not easily dismiss the times he felt like he was sharing a conversation with this boy, that he was somehow bonding with him, not through physical means, but through emotional, spiritual, somehow that his soul was communicating with the other boy’s…that they were learning about each other and…he could not deny that this happened on a regular basis…that it was so normal that he didn’t even think twice about it at this point.
He didn’t just ‘talk’ to Ryosuke, that was too small for what he felt about it, too dismissive, to minimizing, rather, he ‘knew’ Ryosuke, like he could read his mind, like he could feel what he felt, like he understood him on a level that was more than he often understood himself.
Something hung in the air between the siblings for a moment, and then Saya smiled, her entire being seeming to radiate joy, her hands jerking forward to grab Yuri’s in her own, “I knew it!”
“Knew…what?” Yuri felt like his hands were tingling where she was touching him, confused by the energy moving between them, his fingertips feeling like there was static building up within them.
“That I wasn’t alone,” Saya spoke softly, and Yuri couldn’t help it, he couldn’t stop himself, so compulsive was the need, he was scrambling around the table that was between them, frantic as he dove into her arms, hugging himself tightly to her as her arms wrapped around him, holding him as she cried.
“You’re not alone,” Yuri sobbed as he felt the sense of peace settling across him, “Neither am I,” he felt the weight of this, the sheer magnitude of this new reality release all of the worries and concerns he’d had up until now about all of this, instead, feeling a new certainty, an exciting view of the world around him blossoming in that moment, his arms squeezing her impossibly tighter as she laughed above him, his voice soft, reverent, “I’m not alone.”