Chapter Text
“Good morning.”
Uramichi turns around in the lobby of the MHK building. It’s far too early to be greeting people, but Kumatani looks his usual stoic self. Uramichi reluctantly nods in his direction.
“Morning.” He says, hands tucked in his pockets, shielding them from the draft from the door. He frowns. He’s sure he’s forgetting something…
Kumatani comes to a stop next to him. Uramichi remembers.
“Right,” he says, shrugging his grey backpack off one shoulder and letting it dangle, unzipping the biggest pocket. “I meant to return this.”
He hands him the Man Eating Salmon vs. Bunny on a Moped DVD.
“Oh. Thanks.” Kumatani says, taking it. “Did you enjoy it?”
“Not really.” Uramichi replies.
“As expected.” Kumatani says, nodding.
There’s a noise from the front entrance. Uramichi and Kumatani look around. Usahara and Iketeru are arriving together. This in itself is not unusual - they might have just run into each other at the front gate - but Iketeru’s purple hair is mussed in a way that’s unlike his usual neat side-part, and his slacks are a little creased in an odd way. Usahara is wearing one of his usual tracksuits. There are slight shadows under both of their eyes.
“Oh,” Usahara says, in his typically loud voice, “it’s Uramichi-san and Kumatani. Morning!”
“Good morning,” Iketeru says with a gentle smile, following his lead.
“Morning.” Kumatani replies. Uramichi inclines his head. He’s too tired to muster enough energy for a multi-person conversation. He wants to go to his greenroom and sit in silence.
“Oh, that’s Man Eating Salmon!” Usahara says, seeing the box in Kumatani’s hand and digging around in his bag. He produces a DVD - it’s the first installment in the series, where Bunny on a Moped had been the second. “Thanks for letting me borrow this, Kumatani. I only have manga at my place.”
“Sure, but you never showed much interest in movies before.” Kumatani replies, tucking both DVDs into his own bag. “Why the sudden request to borrow it?”
Uramichi listens. It’s true that Usahara has never been that interested in movies, even when Kumatani and Uramichi traded B-movie recommendations over their dorm’s coffee table or watched them together in the living room.
“Usahara-san said that movies were an integral part of the sleepover experience.” Iketeru interjects, nodding with a sage smile. “I understand now. It’s just like I’ve seen in anime.”
“Your reference has been anime this entire time?” Usahara says, at the same time that Kumatani says, “You slept over?”
They trade surprised looks.
“I mean, he said he’d never been on a sleepover at a friend’s house before.” Usahara says, thumping Iketeru lightly on the shoulder, his pointy incisors showing through his smile. “Isn’t it sad? My place is full of fun stuff anyways, so I invited him over.”
“He drank four bottles of fizzing drink and burped so loud the neighbors banged on the wall,” Iketeru informs them promptly.
“You almost died watching those stupid late-night shows with the dick jokes for teenagers,” Usahara retorts, shifting the strap of his bag higher onto his shoulder. The two of them see closer than they had been just a few days prior. For some reason, Kumatani looks vaguely irritated. Most people wouldn’t be able to tell, with the set of his thick eyebrows usually looking deadpan at best and disdainful at worst, but Uramichi can see it as someone who’s known him for almost ten years.
“He didn’t make you drink, did he?” Kumatani asks Iketeru, shooting Usahara a dirty look. Usahara withers under his glare.
“Of course not,” Usahara says, a complaining tone edging into his voice. “Who do you think I am?”
“A good for nothing,” Kumatani says.
“A lightweight idiot,” Uramichi replies at the same time.
“It’s not even funny when you say it together like that,” Usahara sighs.
Director Derekida appears at the front doorway. The four of them quickly scurry down the hall to avoid being seen.
--
Kumatani seems off for the rest of the day. It barely affects his performance as Kumao-kun, of course, since most of his lines are pre-recorded anyways, but Uramichi catches his motions and his cues lagging more than once.
Usually he wouldn’t involve himself in others’ person affairs. Usually he couldn’t give less of a damn. But Kumatani is, he admits begrudgingly, a good junior, and someone who lends him DVDs, so if something is troubling him then Uramichi should hear him out.
“Kumatani.” He says when he spots Kumatani with his costume head off, taking a break, drinking some water behind the filming crew while Utano and Iketeru sing to the kids.
“Uramichi-san.” Kumatani says, capping his water bottle and hefting Kumao’s head under his arm. “Good work out there.”
“You too.” Uramichi says, coming up to a stop beside him. He glances at him - he glances at the stage, where Iketeru is singing - he glances back to Kumatani. He decides to bite the bullet. It’s not like he gives a damn, anyways. “Say, is there something bothering you?”
Kumatani looks at him. His head movement is a fraction of a second too fast.
“No,” he says, his bangs falling in his face. He’s cooled off a bit, but there’s still traces of sweat around his temples. “There’s nothing bothering me.”
“Hmm.” Uramichi says, not probing. He looks back at the stage. He really, really doesn’t give a damn. If Kumatani doesn’t want to talk about it, so be it.
Except apparently Kumatani does want to talk about it, because he starts fidgeting, which is unusual for him.
Uramichi rolls his eyes.
“Just spit it out, man.” He says, turning to him again, folding his arms.
Kumatani makes a pinched face.
“I haven’t even slept over with Iketeru before,” he says, as though he’s biting the words out.
Uramichi blinks. He refrains from rolling his eyes again. Instead, he looks at his junior with a deadpan look.
“Is that what this is about?” He says, sighing. “Come on, we’re adults.”
It’s not that he hasn’t had an inkling. Kumatani knows way more about Iketeru than the average coworker. He just doesn’t give a damn.
“Right.” Kumatani mutters, fixing his facial expression. “I should get it together.”
“I mean,” Uramichi says, slightly awkward, realizing he might have sounded dismissive, “aren’t we adults? Why don’t you just, y’know… ask him to?”
Kumatani gives him an odd look. Uramichi scowls at him. Ungrateful kohai. That’s what he gets for trying to be supportive.
“Have you ever liked anyone, Uramichi-san?” He asks, and it would sound like a mocking question from anyone else, but from Kumatani it seems genuine. Then again, everything seems genuine in his monotone voice.
“No,” Uramichi says, because it’s true. He has the thought that if Usahara were here, he would crack a joke about someone like Uramichi being incapable of love or romance. He would say something about the heart being the only muscle Uramichi hasn’t figured out how to work out. Uramichi feels a vein pulse in his temple.
Kumatani sighs.
“Sorry to bother you, Uramichi-san.” He says, looking as downcast as one possibly can with chronically straight eyebrows and a genetically-inherited poker face. “I shouldn’t be letting my mental state affect my work.”
Uramichi thinks about all the times he’s targeted Usao-kun while the camera was rolling.
“No, it’s fine.” He says, turning back to look at the stage, where Utano and Iketeru are wrapping up the song. “I don’t really give a damn, anyways.”