lavender; nishimura riki

twenty-two.

12/4 5:23pm - "the mistakes we made" movie premiere.

It's the second time you're seeing Riki in person for six months. You called a lot during that time, late nights spent on facetime eating ice cream and talking about everything that had happened lately. You ate a lot of ice cream those past months. A lot of the talk was either remarks about the cast of the show he's working on- they're all really close and want to meet you -or you describing the play you'd been casted into at the time. It wasn't a particularly major role but it was nice for you to do in the meantime. It was also a lovely excuse not to go home to your parents. You would much rather stay with Felice.

Unfortunately, it was inevitable that your parents contacted you. The reason for that was a burst of media about you, Riki, and your movie after you met each other once during the six months. The airport was crowded that day. Not exactly ideal for a celebrity, but it couldn't be helped. You barely noticed either. You were standing with Felice and exactly one bodyguard, waiting anxiously. Your face was down, scanning the feet as they passed. The moment you saw a familiar pair of shoes and loose pants coming in your direction, your head snapped up and your face broke into a grin. There were already a couple of people gasping and whispering as they shuffled with their phones to film, waving with smiles. You were too excited to see him otherwise you would have waved back- even if they were waving at your boyfriend and not you.

You wrapped Riki in a hug with so much force that he stumbled back slightly. Some people stopped to stare. Felice kissed Mateo on the cheek. The crowd continued to flow around you. Meanwhile, nothing could be more important to you than feeling him in your arms. You stood there for what felt like an incredibly long time and turned into a proper obstruction. When you reluctantly began to pull away, you were only pulled back in. The scent of soft lavender and soap washed over you. You sighed. He was warm. His jacket was soft. Everything felt okay.

Later that week, you received a call from your mother while eating coconut cake with Riki. You declined it and considered blocking it, which you hadn't done because she'd blocked you first. Clearly, she'd unblocked you for whatever this was.

Later that night, out of curiosity, you opened up the voicemail your mother had left you. You can recall it after hearing it the one time almost perfectly and with complete disgust.

"Y/n, my baby!" She crooned. You cringed at it. The voicemail went on, "I've missed you, baby! I'm so proud- you're acting with that popular guy! Nishimura Riki is it? Ahh he's so famous! Keep him close my dear, he'll be useful. Ohh you must be earning so much now! I'm so proud of you baby, really. You must be busy heehee." What an ugly laugh. "That's why you didn't pick up, right?"

No. You thought sourly. I was enjoying dessert with my boyfriend.

"Anyway~ don't forget to give your poor old parents a call! Love you hon, mwah!" The voice mail cut off. You screwed up your face, disgusted. Your parents wouldn't let you follow your dreams but as soon as the prospect of large sums of money and influence were involved they were all for it, pretending to be good supportive parents. When you were about to listen to the voicemail again, a pair of arms wrapped around your stomach, squeezing slightly as a warm breath brushed the back of your neck. "Don't do it."

You tightened the grip around your phone self consciously. You didn't like to admit it but you were almost tempted to call your parents. All you really wanted was their approval, but even if you got it now it would be useless and full of bullshit. "Don't do what?"

"Don't listen to it again. Don't call. Just stay with me."

You swallowed thickly and slammed your phone down onto the nightstand. Turning around, you pressed your face into Riki's shoulder. He hesitantly patted your back. You giggled slightly.

"What?" He frowned.

"I have a gift for you. I'll give it to you tomorrow." You kissed his chin. Even in the dark, you could see him blush.

The gift was a crew-neck sweater. It was light purple embroidered with a bundle of lavender in a darker shade, the stems a pretty contrast of green and a white ribbon stitched in to tie it all together. You had a matching one of course. You and Felice had spent hours at the computer forming the perfect custom sweater. It was all worth it, because after trying it on. Riki planted a kiss right on your mouth. It had been a while since you kissed each other. You clutched the sleeves of his sweater, smiled into the kiss, and when you pulled away, went off to put on your own. You both pranced happily around your temporary apartment after that, singing loudly and spinning in circles.

Now, for the premiere of your movie, you're both matching again. Just as you always are. The highlight color this time is white. White and pearls. Felice says you both look like angels. You start laughing hysterically. You've been so wound up lately that you feel like you're going insane. You can't figure out for yourself if the premiere is a relief or if it's another stressor. You've never been in the spotlight like this and your hands are slippery with sweat. Riki holds your hand anyway, but he does make fun of you under his breath. Your only response is a roll of your eyes and a smile.

Aside from questions about the movie, the press is quite interested in your relationship. Sometimes intrusively so. As the questions pour endlessly from the excited clump of reporters, you sent Felice help me eyes but she only grins and sends you a thumbs up. Meanwhile, Riki is far more comfortable with the questions. Although he was naturally shy and fiddled with his hands as much as you, he slid languidly through the questions, discreetly avoiding the intrusive ones.

"So how long do you think this will last?" A reporter shoves a microphone in your face, his long brown hair whipping at his cheeks. You stammer. The question is asked so directly and so at you that you're unsure how to respond. "A- A long time...hope...hopefully...." You mumble. The reporter narrows his eyes and you take a step back. It's obvious. He thinks the relationship is for publicity. It's nothing new in showbiz. You feel Riki's hand brush down your arm as he pulls you in closer to himself. Your heart calms slightly. For a strange moment you thought you would be swept away by the sea of reporters.

You turn towards a reporter- a pretty blonde girl -who asks you cheerfully about your movie and how it felt portraying Tara. She seems nice. You smile sweetly back at her and talk a little bit, your left hand still clasped with Riki's. You resist wiping your sweaty palms against your legs and steady yourself instead. Her questions continue one by one and she gleams at being chosen. Her speaking manner makes you very comfortable, so when she asks you how you two got into your relationship, you aren't startled by it. Instead, you smile.

You tell her about the forced outings. You tell her about working together on set, joking around and making fun of each other. Riki releases your hand and leans over your shoulder, curiously. The reporter he'd been talking to, the same brown haired man as before, pouts unceremoniously. You grin, glance over your shoulder at your sparkly-eyed boyfriend, and describe the lavender field.

The press begin to dwindle by then seeing as neither of you are interested and Felice and Mateo are eyeing at you from the corner of your vision, clearly aiming to whisk you both away.

The reporter seems delighted at your descriptions of the field. You don't mention what you talked about there. You don't mention how to get there. That's your personal secret. By the time she's gone, your cheeks are heated with joy and you're heart is full reminiscing how much things have changed and how quickly time has passed. You turn on your heel with the intention wandering about, but freeze in place. You grip Riki's arm and he jolts to a stop. Your fingers are pressed so deep into his flesh it must hurt.

"What?"

You shudder slightly as a chill rushes through your chest and spine. "There." You point with a weak hand into the crowd. "My parents are here."