Gold in the Air of Summer

Yamada is never happy with himself. He does his best and works as hard as he can but, in spite of the long additional rehearsal hours, of all the time he spends home alone, practicing dance routines and facial expressions, truth is, he always finds something to criticize, something that he has to force out, something that is not good enough.

"Don't overwork yourself too much, ok?" Yuto's smile is blinding as he hands him a bottle of icy, delicious water.

Yamada's breathing is so labored, that his "Thank you" gets lost in between his panting as Yuto makes his way towards the exit. Sweat soaks through Yamada's hair, his clothes, it runs down his neck... just one sip into it, he knows that hydration was what he needed the most at the moment.

Yuto... is something indescribable. He's much more than what the lights, sequins and feathers have made of him. He works hard too, but Yamada feels that it is different somehow, as if Yuto just focus on the things he loves and that makes him a better idol. It's that spontaneity that Yamada secretly envies. Just a bit.

Everybody in Johnny's wants to be a pirate, or Michael Jackson; Yamada just wants to be good at what he does. He wants to be a superstar and maybe, if possible, to be important to Yuto.

***

Yuto's moles are hypnotizing; they create a sinuous road from one of his eyes to his neck that Yamada wants follow endlessly. Sometimes, Yamada feels he's getting lost in them, in the desire to connect them until they make up something, to somehow mark the space that separates them, to touch the skin that sports them and find out if it really is as smooth as it looks.

"What is it?" Yuto asks, somewhere between mild irritation and amusement. It's the fifth time Yamada stands staring silently at him.

"You have something..." says Yamada vaguely, reaching out his hand and standing a little on his tiptoes, because it has been a while since Yuto passed him in height.

Yuto obediently tilts his head, exposing his neck for Yamada to clean anything that he sees there, and Yamada feels a little guilty for wanting to do just the opposite.

It turns out Yuto's skin is as smooth as it looks; it's also warm and a little wet from practice and the never-ending heat of the rehearsal room. His pulse beats steadily under Yamada's fingers and he swallows sharply, trying to hold his breath, to slow down his own heart, to make this look normal even if now he knows it's not.

***

Chinen is convenient. He is ambitious and smart, and he knows how to let people hug him and how to look at them just right for the camera to make the wrong assumptions it pleases. At some point in Yamada's desperation, jealousy seemed a good idea to force a reaction out of Yuto, but until now all he has gotten is a ruffle of his hair and a smile from him. Yamada wants to scream.

"Ryosuke... I think we need to talk." It's Chinen, looking a little awkward, as if he really was fifteen years old and not the immortal demon spawn that he really is.

It's pretty unusual that Chinen -who never particularly gives a damn about knowing anything about anyone- noticed everything before Yamada's best friend.

"Why don't you simply tell him?"

Yamada attacks him mercilessly with a pillow, because Chinen is an idiot and doesn't understand anything, just like Yamada.

***

Yamada lies on his back, on the floor, his arms and legs stretched out to maximize the cold he gets from the floor in all of his body. Outside the summer roars in full bloom, and Yuto's stuffed room seems to withhold the heat and multiply it.