Chapter Text
▶️ [ yamato, 45 ] ▶️
Mitsuki: Pizza OK for dinner tonight?
Yamato: Sure. Make sure you get plain cheese for Koutarou.
Mitsuki: I should be the one telling you that. Who was it that put out pork buns and made him cry last night?
Yamato: They were delivered right to our door from the studio, how was I supposed to know you didn’t order them. Besides, he ate meat pretty recently.
Mitsuki: He hasn’t eaten meat for at least six months.
Mitsuki: There was snow on the ground the last time your son ate meat.
Yamato stares at his phone. Six months? That can’t be right. But he does remember the day it snowed, just before his birthday, and Mitsuki making beef brisket soup…
His tablet, phone, and watch all ding at him, announcing an incoming call. He swears a few times, trying to silence them all simultaneously, and then answers it on the tablet. “Yeah?”
Momo’s face appears in the call window. “Oh, you’re home! I thought you’d be at the airport already.”
Yamato shakes his head. “I’m not on location until Sunday. What’s up?”
“Oh, I’ll just bother you when you’re there,” Momo waves his hand distractedly. “I was going to ask you to put me in touch with Chiho-san, we’re short staffed on Sound Ship this year and I thought of her. Actually, can you just send me her contact?”
Yamato has worked closely with Chiho Suzuki on three of his most recent films. She’s hardworking, passionate, and impressively unflappable. He likes her better than almost anyone else on the production team, and he’s genuinely looking forward to seeing her on location. She’s an excellent choice for Momo to work with on Sound Ship; he knows she’s been looking for more jobs closer to home. It makes perfect sense for Momo to ask him to send him her contact.
“...Well,” he says.
Momo’s jaw drops. “You seriously don’t have her number saved?”
“I don’t really save work-related contacts…my agent has all that information, or Mitsu has it.”
“She was at your son’s birthday party!”
Yamato tries to remember. “Really?”
“God, you are just like Yuki. I feel so connected to poor Mitsu right now.”
Yamato hears Yuki’s laughter in the background. He stifles the urge to protest – after decades of close friendship, it’s a wasted effort to argue otherwise. Most of the time.
“Do you remember the last time Koutarou ate meat?” he asks instead.
Momo shakes his head, still chuckling. “Why would I remember that? We haven’t had the twins over since…what, March? April? And he wouldn’t have eaten meat here, anyways.”
“No, I guess not…Mitsu said it was in February…I just feel like that can’t be right. But it also feels like February was really recent.” Yamato scrubs a hand over his face. “Really, it feels like Izumi was just born.”
Momo smiles kindly. “But he’s three already. And I met Chiho-san at his birthday party. And I didn’t get her number then because I figured I could get it from you. And here we are.”
Yuki’s voice says, “You should have known better.”
Yamato shrugs. “Yeah.”
His phone buzzes.
Mitsuki: They still have the king crab special, you want it?
Yamato: 🙏🙏🙏
“Dad.”
He jumps. Azami, his six year old daughter, is standing in front of his desk, right on the other side of his desktop monitor. He hadn’t even noticed her come in.
“Don’t you have a few minutes of quiet time left?” he asks her, glancing down at his watch. “What is it? I’m on the phone with – ”
“Why aren’t you and Papa married?”
Yamato can only gape at her. “I – what?”
“You have to do more than have kids and live together to be married,” she tells him. “You have to wear rings, and you have to have a wedding. And you,” her tone becomes accusatory, “don’t have rings, which means you didn’t have a wedding either.”
A glance at his tablet screen shows Momo furiously pressing his lips together, clearly trying not to burst out laughing. Yuki is standing behind him, probably laughing silently, although Yamato can’t see his face.
“Okay,” he says slowly, trying to get his bearings. He can’t remember ever talking about this with any of their kids, he doesn’t have a clue where it’s coming from. If he didn’t know better, he’d think Yuki and Momo might’ve put her up to it – but they’d never use Azami to manipulate him, not when they can harass him about it themselves. Which they do. Often. “Sweetie, how about you go back to your room, finish quiet time, and then we can finish having this – ”
“I think you should answer her now, Yamato,” Yuki says, clearly unable to help himself.
Yamato hangs up on them. Really, the last thing he needs to be giving them on this particular subject is more ammo.
He considers Azami. She’s got a look in her eye that tells him finishing out quiet time is probably a nonstarter. Most likely, any attempt to send her back to her room is going to be met with more resistance than he can be bothered to deal with.
He tries a different approach. “Want to watch TV?”
Yeah, Mitsuki would kill him if he were here. Azami doesn’t take the bait, anyways. She’s usually exactly like Yamato, to the point that he has a lot of quietly brewing concerns about her future mental health and stability. But right now, her stance, her expression, the twist of her mouth and even the steely defiance in her eyes is all Mitsu. Yamato feels his heart melt a little, and sighs.
“All right,” he relents. “Okay. Just – I’m listening. Why don’t you run that by me one more time.”
She crosses her arms and gives him a look like she can hardly believe she bothers with him. Yamato wishes he could take a picture, it’s honestly uncanny. “Do you not want to be married to Papa?”
Yamato rubs his chin, trying to think of how to reply. His instinctive answer is of course I do, but…well, he’s got no shortage of lousy excuses there. The fact is, he wants it very much. He’s gotten halfway to asking at least a dozen times in the past seven years, but he always finds a reason to put it off. “Do I….well, your Pop and I pretty much are married, sweetheart. We do live together…but you mean something different,” he adjusts, seeing her frown deepen.
“Is it because you used to be married to someone else?”
“No. No way.” He shakes his head emphatically. “Your Pop and I are way more serious and committed than I ever was to…honestly, I never should have gotten married to her. Being married isn’t always a good idea, you know.”
She’s quiet for a minute, processing. “It’s not a good idea for you and Papa?”
“No, I – I mean, it’s not a bad idea,” he says quickly.
“Because you’re pretty much married already.”
“Yeah, we just haven’t done the rings part yet.”
She nods in acceptance. “But you’re going to, right?”
“Yeah, of course,” Yamato says without thinking, relieved she’s not interrogating him anymore.
“When?”
He goes still again. “When?”
“When are you going to get rings,” she presses, advancing on him around the desk. “Everyone else is married. Uncle Iori and Uncle Tamaki are married. Uncle Sou and Uncle Ryuu are married. Yuki and Momo are married. Auntie Kaoru and Uncle Nagi are married. Auntie Tsumu and Uncle Gaku – ”
“Azami, I get it, okay?” Yamato holds up his hands in defeat. “I'm hearing you. Loud and clear. You really want me and your Pop to get married.”
She slumps sideways into his lap. “It’s weird that you aren’t yet.”
He chooses not to respond directly to that. “Look, kiddo. It’s not that we don’t want to, we’ve just been a little busy with you and your brother. Brothers.” It’s not a lie, not really. Finding out they were having twins was the reason for the first delay, and that one had been Mitsuki’s idea. “Anyways, have you even brought this up with your Pop yet? He’s probably the one to talk to, not me.”
Her face is buried in his chest, so he doesn’t see her roll her eyes, but he senses it all the same. “I’m not the one marrying him,” she grouses. “You talk to him.”
Well, she’s kind of got him there. He’s still contemplating how to respond when the timer on his watch goes off, indicating the end of quiet time. Right on cue, he hears a bedroom door click open, followed by the sound of Koutarou’s feet running down the stairs.
“I think he’s going straight for the XBox,” Yamato says into his daughter’s hair. “You might want to intercept him before he picks a Minecraft world you don’t like.”
She disengages herself at light speed. “I’ll punch his face if he puts it on survival mode,” she snarls, already halfway out of the office.
“No, don’t – ah, whatever,” Yamato sighs as his reproach is lost in the rush of her departure. If Koutarou does put it on “survival mode”, whatever that means, after all their fights about it, the kid’s just asking for it.
He checks the camera in their toddler’s room and sees him starting to stir as well. Hopefully he’ll let Yamato get a quick cuddle in before he starts launching himself off all the furniture.
His phone buzzes again.
Mitsuki: Home in 15. Put in the pizza order, they’ll bring it around 5. Kids up?
Yamato: Izumi’s just getting up. Twins are hopefully not killing each other downstairs.
Mitsuki: Always the optimist lol
Yamato: You haven’t talked to Momo in the last ten minutes, have you?
Mitsuki: No…
Mitsuki: What did you do
Yamato: Why do you always assume it was me ☹️
Mitsuki: Well I know it wasn’t Momo 🙄
Yamato: It totally could have been Momo, you give that guy way too much credit…
Mitsuki: Ok so Was it
Yamato: No. Azami ambushed me while I was on a video call with them.
Mitsuki: …
Yamato: And we should probably talk later.
Mitsuki: Ok lol
Yamato: That’s it? I hit you with the “we need to talk” and that’s all I get?
Mitsuki: Yep
Mitsuki: Try to keep everyone alive until I get home. Love you 💓
Yamato: Yeah, ok. You too
~ * ~
⏪️ [ yamato, 36 ] ⏪️
Nagi: Do you have a room at the hotel?
Yamato: Nah. Figured I’ll get one somewhere close by.
Nagi: No need! You’ll be staying with us, of course.
Yamato: Pass.
Nagi: We rented the most charming little beach villa 🏡🏖️
Yamato: Still pass.
Kaoru: I don’t think my dear husband was offering you a choice, Yamato.
Nagi: I was not 😊
Yamato: Ugh. I don’t need to be babysat, it’s just a damn wedding.
Nagi: Of course you don’t!
Kaoru: Yes you do. We’re taking you with us, whether you like it or not.
Nagi: We just don’t want you to be alone 🥺
Yamato: I have it on pretty good authority that I’m great at being alone.
Kaoru: …Is that you trying to convince us that you don’t need to be babysat?
Yamato: Maybe
Kaoru: Pathetic.
Nagi: Our rental has two guest rooms!
Nagi: [image attached] [image attached] [image attached]
Nagi: I recommend the room with the infinity tub and ocean-facing balcony.
Yamato: …Yeah, okay. Fine.
Yamato runs a hand through his hair in frustration. He knows his friends mean well, and that they’re doing this because they care about him. It doesn’t make it any easier, and frankly, he wants to be alone afterwards. He wants to be alone and shitfaced so he can cry all his miserable feelings out, break some dishes, and then keep drinking until he can’t feel anything anymore. Maybe until he passes out, or worse.
…Yeah, that’s probably a good reason to take Nagi and Kaoru up on their offer. Drinking himself into oblivion and/or hospitalization on the night of Mitsuki’s wedding has its appeal, but he doesn’t actually think he can stand to be that selfish anymore. Mitsuki would be pissed, but he’d also feel guilty, and that’s the last fucking thing Yamato wants.
He opens his desk drawer, and the scrawling letters on the invitation immediately jump out at him. Mitsuki Izumi and Mariko Kimura request the honor of your presence at their wedding on April the 28th. Two weeks from now, Mitsuki will be married. And unlike Yamato, he’ll stay married. He won’t break his engagement, won’t rebound into another one that’s an even worse idea than the first. He won’t fuck it up in under six months, or cheat, or sabotage himself because he screwed things up with the only person he’s ever truly loved.
Get out, Mitsuki had said, four years ago. We’re done, for good this time. Yamato hadn’t really believed him, in the moment. Some shitty, stupid, romantically deluded part of his brain had thought that they’d find their way back to each other, like they always had before. He’d considered a hundred ways to apologize – he’d considered groveling, begging, sweeping grand gestures that he’d never have been able to pull off and that Mitsuki would probably have hated anyways. There were so many opportunities for him to reach out and make amends…but in the end, he’d been too chicken-shit, too stupid and full of himself to even take the first step.
He doesn’t know if Mitsuki even waited to see if he would. All he knows is that they’d avoided each other for nine months, and then Mituski had hosted Mariko, an up-and-coming Tokyo restaurateur, on his talk show. Yamato had watched it, and he’d known right away from the look on her face when Mitsuki was talking. It was a look he’d have known anywhere, having seen it in the mirror time and time again for the better part of a decade. She was already falling for him.
Yamato closes the drawer, and goes to pour himself a drink.
~ * ~
“Hey.” Gaku claps him on the shoulder, sliding into the seat next to him. “How are you holding up?”
Yamato looks down at his drink. “You know, you’re the first person to ask me that tonight.” He hums, flicking the edge of the highball glass with a fingernail. “Thought everyone and their mom would be in my business, to be honest.”
He’s been dreading this wedding for a lot of reasons, having to field people’s concerns about him chief among them. But surprisingly, almost none of the people he’s talked to tonight seem to have any. Mitsuki’s mom looked at him a bit sadly, and Ryuu had spent about thirty minutes after the ceremony just hovering near him, as though he might be overcome with despair at any moment – but besides that, no one has really fussed over him. It’s good, probably. It’s been four years, after all. Almost three since Yamato’s own marriage, and near-immediate divorce. Most people probably think – sensibly – that he’s had enough time to move on.
Yamato isn’t entirely sure why he hasn’t.
“So?” Gaku says. “You didn’t answer my question.”
Yamato drains his glass, feeling the burn of the dregs of whiskey and the cold shock of half-melted ice. “I’m literally fine,” he replies, wincing a little as the cold hits the back of his teeth. “You saw me dancing, right?”
“I can’t unsee it,” Gaku says grimly. “How many of those have you had?”
Yamato stifles a burp. “Only two, if you can believe it.”
Gaku raises an eyebrow. “Should I?”
“Hey, if I thought it would help to get drunk, I’d be doing it,” Yamato shrugs. “But I’m trying not to ruin Mitsu’s day.”
Gaku nods. “He’d probably forgive you, even if you did.”
“He shouldn’t forgive me,” Yamato mutters. “He shouldn’t forgive me for any of the crap I do.” Mitsuki would forgive him, that’s the really twisted thing. No matter how badly Yamato fucks up, Mitsuki always lets him back in, and that’s why, four years ago, Yamato hadn’t really believed that it was over. Because Mitsuki did forgive him, eventually. Their friendship has endured, they’ve been in each others’ lives, just like always. Mitsuki had even supported him through his divorce and all of the awful tabloid attention that had come with it.
But Mitsuki is his friend now, and nothing more. He moved on, he went and met someone who can love him honestly and wholly, and be loved in return. And Yamato knows, as surely as he knows himself, that even if Mitsuki had taken him back all those years ago, they still would have ended up here.
He casts around for the rest of Gaku’s family, in urgent need of a subject change. “Where’d your offspring go?”
“Tsumugi and Ryuu are putting the girls to bed upstairs,” Gaku tells him. “I just came back from saying goodnight. My mom is staying in the room with them until we go up.”
Yamato raises his eyebrows. “You’re sharing a room with Ryuu and Sou? That’s brave of you.”
Gaku gives him a weary look. “No, we’re just putting all the kids in one room for now. They’ll come get Yukari when they’re ready for bed.” He pauses. “Actually, knowing them, they’ll be up way later than us, so we’ll probably have her until the morning.”
“Oh, now you’re giving them a hotel room for the night with no kids?” Yamato laughs at the expression on Gaku’s face. “I hope you aren’t sharing a wall, damn.”
“We are not,” Gaku says. “Thankfully.”
“Sorry I missed saying goodnight to Hana-chan,” Yamato says. He’d spent most of the reception dinner chatting with Gaku and Tsumugi’s eldest, an adorable and shockingly articulate three year old girl, learning more about dinosaurs in the span of thirty minutes than he would have thought possible. Yamato isn’t generally a kid person, but neither is he made of stone, and Hanako has charmed him quite thoroughly in the year or so since she’s gained the ability to converse.
“She fell asleep on Tsumugi about half an hour ago,” Gaku replies. “Don’t worry, I’m sure she’ll be tracking you down at brunch to show you her dinosaur book.” He clears his throat. “Oh, speaking of Tsumugi – she has this new co-worker – ” he starts to say, but Yamato cuts him off with a wave.
“Don’t.” He keeps his voice low. “I mean…thanks, but I’m not interested.”
“She’s really cool,” Gaku tells him. “She’s a sound engineer, and she just moved back here from Australia. Tsumugi likes her. I think you’d get along.”
It’s not like Yamato is off the market or anything, he’s not sitting around and pining every night. He dates, and sleeps with people, and goes through all the motions that a guy his age is supposed to. He even had an almost-relationship earlier in the year – a lawyer, but then he’d had a five week movie shoot in Kyoto, and hadn’t managed to contact her when filming had wrapped. He can’t do that to Tsumugi’s co-worker – to Tsumugi, really.
“If Tsumugi likes her, she shouldn’t introduce her to me,” he says.
“Don’t be like that,” Gaku says automatically. “Look, just because things with Mitsu didn’t work out – ”
He goes abruptly silent as Mitsuki himself approaches the table, beaming. “Hey, guys!” He gives Yamato an affectionate punch on the shoulder. To Gaku, he says, “Kiddos tap out? I saw our photographer chasing Ryuu down when he had a sleeping baby on each shoulder.”
“Yeah they’re upstairs,” Gaku says. “Their stamina isn’t great at this age.”
“Mine either, to tell you the truth,” Mitsuki laughs. He turns to Yamato, and Yamato feels his thoughts grind to a halt as he receives the full force of Mitsuki’s bursting, radiant happiness.
“Wow,” Mitsuki grins, blinding. “It’s been way too long, hasn’t it?” He cuffs Yamato again, and Yamato feels the brush of his knuckles like a brand. “Glad you could make it, even though you forgot to RSVP, dick.”
“Yeah, my bad,” Yamato says. “The invitation got lost, and then I kind of spaced.”
It hadn’t been lost, of course – the RSVP card is still in his desk drawer along with the rest of the invitation. They’d given him a plus one. Yamato could have brought a date to this wedding, could have held their hand and danced with them while Mitsuki paraded around with his new wife. Mitsuki would probably have been happy to see it, if he did. Mitsuki wouldn’t feel like his ribs were laid open and his heart was unprotected, beating feebly against the elements, waiting for some careless blow to dash it from his chest.
“You’re still so useless,” Mitsuki says fondly. “Ah – ” he holds his arm out to Mariko as she joins him, flushed and glamorous in her sleek reception dress. “Well, it’s good to see you. You’ll probably get contacted about coming on the show soon to promote Downriver.”
“They just announced more reshoots,” Yamato tells him glumly. “I won’t hold my breath.” Downriver, a Hollywood movie he’d taken a supporting role in, has been held up in post-production for over a year. Yamato’s been paid, so he’s not terribly concerned about it, but half the benefit of doing Hollywood movies is the backend payout, so he’s still going to be pretty annoyed if it ends up getting scrapped for some studio executive’s tax write-off.
“Where do you have to go for reshoots?” Mariko asks curiously. “That’s the movie about the Yangtze River cruise, right?”
“We’ve already wrapped on location, so the reshoots will just be on a soundstage,” Yamato says, making a face. “If they call me, I’ll have to go back to LA.”
Mitsuki laughs. “Oh, you’ll have to. It’s such a chore to be a big international movie star.”
“I’m just glad someone understands,” Yamato replies with a wry smile, trying to ignore the ache in his chest, the pit that opens up in his stomach, empty and gnawing and constantly starving for Mitsuki’s attention. He eyes his glass, wishing it was full again.
Mariko squeezes Mitsuki’s arm. “I think they’re bringing out the cakes soon.”
“Cakes?” Gaku repeats. “As in, more than one?”
“This is what happens when you marry a chef and restaurant owner, apparently,” Mitsuki grins. “One cake is for the unimaginative. We have – how many, Mari?”
“Only four,” she answers distractedly. “I hope the edible gold leaf hasn’t lost any of its luster in the fridge – I told them to save it until right before the presentation – ”
“Why don’t we go and check,” Mitsuki suggests. He gives her a warm smile, and then winks at Yamato and Gaku. “Hopefully the wedding’s not completely ruined.”
Gaku watches them walk off bemusedly. “I guess Tsumu and I were unimaginative.”
“I could’ve told you that,” Yamato says. He takes a shaky breath. “Ah…I need another drink.”
“I’ll get you a beer,” Gaku says, getting to his feet. He gives Yamato a slightly worried look. “You want to come with?”
Yamato shakes his head. “I’m good here.”
Gaku frowns down at him, hesitating.
“I’m really…it’s fine,” Yamato insists, trying to summon his best poker face. “I’m over it.”
Gaku raises an eyebrow.
“I’m mostly over it.” He blows out an exasperated breath. “I’ll get over it. You know, a real best friend would just go and get me a damn beer instead of standing around interrogating me with his eyebrows.”
Gaku snorts. “I guess you must be all right if you’re bitching at me about my eyebrows.”
“Go away, Shiseido model,” Yamato says, more loudly. Gaku cuffs him gently on the side of the head, then makes his way back towards the bar.
Yamato surveys the ballroom from his seat – his friends all out on the dance floor, various stragglers and other people sitting for breathers at the tables all around him. He sees a producer eyeing him from a few tables away, so he takes his phone out and pretends to answer it.
At a buffet table on the far side of the room, he watches the cakes start to come out. Mariko appears to be closely supervising, with Mitsuki a handsome, supportive presence at her side. He looks so happy, Yamato thinks. He deserves to be happy.
“It was a beautiful wedding,” he says into his phone, still pretending to have a conversation. “You should’ve heard Nagi’s speech. I’m sure someone recorded it.”
As if he knows he’s being fake-talked-about, Nagi lets out a particularly loud whoop from the dance floor. Yamato hears the opening chords of Monster Generation, and feels heat creep up the back of his neck.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” Yamato says, more quietly. His fake conversation partner is a fucking therapist, apparently. “I never had any illusions about this, you know? It was never gonna be me.”
“Yamato!” Riku calls, jogging over to him. “Come on! Didn’t you hear what they’re playing?”
“Gotta go,” Yamato tells his phone. He pockets it. “Ah, do I really have to?”
“Yes!” Riku beams, reaching for him and dragging him out of his seat. “You might be a big shot actor now, but you’ll always be our leader!”
He’s just as bright and sincere as ever, and Yamato still has never managed to say “no” to him. “All right,” he sighs. Hopefully no one expects him to actually remember the choreography after all this time. “Lead the way.”
~ * ~