Chapter 13 #2
While she was gone putting together options for Arnaud, he leaned in and whispered to Reno, “I love you.”
“Je t’aime encore7,” Reno sighed, pulling a pink and white layered dress off the rack. “Luka will be my most important, you know.”
“Amelia is mine.” Arnaud looked so fond for a moment that it almost shattered Reno’s heart. “Your love is capable.”
“The way you think of love is so complex, it makes me look at myself harder.”
“Good.” Arnaud flicked through a few of the dresses, pulled out a pink and black one, and took the pink and white one away from Reno to put back.
“Think of how your heart feels differently from one person to the next, observe that. No two relationships are the same.” He switched to French as Andi returned with his outfits, “You and I are one thing, you and him are another. I do not understand the romance, the fairytale, but I want it for you. I see you being happy.”
“So, we are good?”
Arnaud nodded and turned his attention to Andi. “Oh, let me see the one with blue accents.”
“Of course, Zana.” Andi was looking between them, and Reno turned away after setting the black and pink dress to the side for the makeup artist to draw inspiration from.
When he looked in the mirror, he found his cheeks a bit pinker than he’d like, but the acceptance from Arnaud filled him to the brim.
He focused on getting his contacts in before he started crying; then if the makeup artist noticed his eyes were red-rimmed, he could blame the contacts.
The first shoot went on for hours and Reno was grateful when they brought in a vegetable tray and some sparkling water.
Arnaud and he relaxed on the small couch to the side of the studio set for a while, sharing food and leaning on each other.
Reno spotted a few camera phones pointed at them as they curled up together in their dresses, and knew the behind-the-scenes images were likely to go viral.
They always did whenever Arnaud and he were together like this, and even more so when they both looked this dolled up.
“What about an open relationship?” Arnaud said in French under his breath and Reno tracked every camera in the room.
“Non8,” Reno replied, his lips barely moving. He and Arnaud had had too much practice having serious conversations together in public over the whole decade of their fame. “He doesn’t want that.”
“You finally asked?”
Reno nodded, just enough for Arnaud to notice.
“Does he trust you?”
“īe. Shōganai, mada9.”
Arnaud tilted his head.
“No," Reno clarified, “not yet.”
“Je comprends ca10,” Arnaud sighed. “What about after?”
“Maybe. I won’t push. His last ex pushed. I won’t be that.”
Arnaud nodded and reached out with his hand to wipe at something by Reno’s lip. Reno heard a camera shutter and tried not to frown. “Je suis désolé11.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I still sympathize.” Arnaud located a napkin to the side to wipe his fingers on.
“The set is ready." The photographer came by, the camera in his hand looking heavy with its expensive lens. “You both doing okay?”
“Oui12.” Arnaud gave him a charming smile. “Reno didn’t get enough sleep last night. I was scolding him on proper self-care.”
Reno swatted at him and the photographer gave them both an indulgent smile.
“I slept just fine, thank you.”
“I’m sure.” Arnaud popped up from the couch and Reno had to hurry to follow.
It always impressed him that Arnaud could walk in platforms so smoothly when he didn’t wear them regularly.
Reno had to practice to achieve that level of natural-looking grace.
Reno caught up to him on set and ordered Arnaud to turn so Reno could smooth out the wrinkles there from sitting on the couch.
“Thank you," Arnaud said, and the hairstylist came over to arrange their hair properly for the next set.
By the time they were slowing down again, Reno’s feet were starting to hurt and he was missing Luka.
He felt himself tapping his finger against the crook of his arm where they were crossed and managed to shake himself loose again before he could start fidgeting even more.
When the photographer called it a wrap for the day, Reno kicked off his shoes, forgetting for a moment just how expensive they were, then winced when one toppled over and skid against the floor.
“Get this dress off of me,” he hissed to Arnaud, and Arnaud’s dark eyes narrowed. “I need to get out of here. Help.”
“Oh, you lasted so long today before you went crazy.”
“Be proud of me, Luka ga matteru13.”
“Matteru…” Arnaud frowned, “I need to practice my verb vocab.”
“Waiting. Like when I yell matte when you walk too fast with those long legs of yours.” Reno turned around so Arnaud could unlace the corset portion of the dress then lifted his arm to reach the side zipper. “Is it fair of me to be doing this?”
“No.” Arnaud turned for Reno to do the same to his outfit. “It is never fair for any of us to subject another to our lives.”
“Fuck.”
“Swearing in public today, are we?”
“Damatte14,” Reno scolded as he unzipped Arnaud from his dress. “What do I do?”
“Let him choose.” Arnaud peeled off the outside layer and someone came by to grab it from him. He waited until they were out of earshot again before saying, “You’re fretting.”
“I am.” Reno would be biting through his fingernails if he weren’t so religious about having acrylics done. “I’m supposed to give him these two week to figure out what he wants, and it’s day two. I’m already crawling out of my skin.”
“You need to relax.”
Reno barked a laugh and a few people turned to look at him. He schooled his expression. “You, my dear, are so funny.”
“Come on, you look ridiculous right now. You’re so anxious standing in the middle of this studio in your frilly undergarments.”
Reno looked down at his blouse, bloomers, and tights and did feel kind of ridiculous. “Alright. I’m getting changed and going home. I need to call my mom.”
“Oh, tell her I love her and she should call me soon so I can play that Buck-Tick song she likes.”
“You are so sweet; she does love their ballads.”
Arnaud agreed, “And I sound great singing them. Now run along. Go play.”
“Oh, I do get to play soon, don’t I?” Reno felt himself grin and rushed to find his street clothes so he could head home.
On his way out, he waved to Arnaud and thanked the rest of the crew for their hard work, then put his mask and sunglasses back on before doubling back inside.
He hurried back to the stylist's chair to search for the hair artist, and then tapped her on the shoulder.
She jumped, startled, before turning around. But when she saw it was just Reno, she asked, “You forget something?”
“Can I borrow a wig?”
“Huh?” Her eyes widened. “For how long?”
“A week? Two? I can have it back soon. Or I can buy it from you.”
“Oh, no. No need for all that. Just bring it back in a few weeks. Follow me.” She led him to a back storage room where the fashion line kept a lot of their set clothes and rows of styling equipment and makeup brushes.
On one shelf stood a multitude of wigs. “Just pick one, they're not all styled. Need me to do that for you, too?”
“No, that's okay.” Reno took a moment before he pulled a wig, already styled with the long black hair in a ponytail and the fringe cut similarly to how Reno already had his done, down from the shelf. “This one okay?”
“Sure, here’s a wig cap and some pins too.”
“Thanks!” Reno took the bag she was holding out to him and put the wig into it alongside the other items. He slid his sunglasses back on, waved goodbye and darted out of the room and building, passing a confused-looking Arnaud on his way out.
He saluted with two fingers, then slipped out the door and made his way to the bus stop, pulling his phone out in the process and dialing his mother.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hikaru, it is so late.” His mother sounded happy to hear from him, regardless.
“It is only eleven there, you are not so old,” Reno replied, and his mom scoffed. “I’m sorry, the shoot was long. I will send you photos if you want. I got Arata to wear a dress.”
“Foolish children. Is he going to call me soon?”
“Yes, yes. He promised he would play for you. He says he’s getting good, but he hasn’t played in front of me in a while. He’ll sing for you.”
“He has such a beautiful voice,” his mother sighed into the phone. “You would too if you stopped smoking.”
“I am,” Reno said, telling the truth. “I only have one or two a day now. I am almost quitting for good.”
“What? Really? About time!”
Reno smiled, leaning against the bus stop shelter. “It is about time. I’ve decided I want to live forever.”
“So silly. Are you Taoist now, too?”
“No," Reno laughed, “I’m a good Buddhist boy like you raised me, don't worry.”
“You were never good at meditating. Do not lie to me.”
“I never lie to you, Mom.” Reno watched a bus pull up and saw it wasn’t his, so he leaned back against the shelter again. “I’m just not the best at sitting still unless I am doing something with my hands. Music works well.”
She hummed over the line before changing the subject. “Arata said you are to play violin with your band.”
“Oh, he should zip his mouth. I was going to surprise you once it was done.”
“And give me a heart attack? I think not. Your song better be beautiful, none of that heavy stuff you like so much.”
“It is soft, don't worry.”
“Oh," she sounded pleased. “Good, good. I like that. That's not so usual for you, though.”
“No, but I don’t feel so usual," Reno admitted.
She asked, “Is this about that boy?”
“Yes.”
“You’re writing him a song?”
“Yes.”
“Hikaru?”
“Yes, Mom?” Reno adjusted the bag in his hand, feeling a bit nervous.
She clicked her tongue and Reno imagined her shaking her head at him like she used to whenever he was being irresponsible. “You be careful. You haven’t known him long. He is all the way in the States.”
“He’s here, actually.”
“What!?” she yelled and Reno had to quickly move his phone away from his ear. “What do you mean!?”