Archive of Our Own ^beta

Long days were nothing out of the ordinary. Today’s appearance had been typical, and while exhaustion was inevitable, Riku didn’t mind. Performing and meeting fans always energized him, even if his voice grew hoarse or his limbs heavy by the end of it.

He didn’t mind being the last one out of the building. He liked thanking the crew, waving goodbye to the staff, and soaking in the quiet after the noise. 

The others had already gone ahead to the van, seeing as the venue was cleared by now. 

So he lingered behind near a service corridor, taking a moment to breathe and stretch before heading out.

He barely took three steps before he heard the quick patter of shoes behind him.

That’s when he heard it.

“Rikkun?”

“Riku-kun!”

He turned naturally, smiling out of habit.

Three—no, four—girls with various IDOLiSH7 merch stepped from the corners of the hallway like they’d been waiting. They looked around his age, maybe a little older or younger than him.

He blinked, taken aback for a moment. 

“Ah, hello!” He said, lifting a hand to wave. “Sorry, this area’s supposed to be for staff only, but thanks for coming to the event! I really appreciate the support!”

The group exchanged looks with each other before one girl stepped forward, hands behind her back. Her bangs were clipped to the side with a small red hairpin.

“Rikkun!” The girl greeted, stepping closer. “We were waiting for you! We hoped you’d come this way.” 

Something about her comment gave him pause.

“You waited…back here?” He asked. “Did someone let you through?” He tilted his head a little, an innocent gesture that made them squeal. Oops.

“Don’t worry about that!” Another girl chimed in, fanning her uchiwa over her mouth. “No one saw us, I promise.” She finished with a wink, like she was sharing a frivolous secret.

“We know our way around,” the third added, smiling like it was something to be proud of.

He’d be lying if he said that it instilled any sort of comfort in him. Still, Riku kept his smile. His fans meant everything to him.

“I’m really happy you came to support me today,” he continued. “But waiting in restricted areas like this isn’t a good idea. You could get in trouble if—”

They cut him off like they hadn’t heard him. A few of them pulled out their phones.

“You were right, Hina! He’s even cuter up close!” The girl with the red hairpin in front of him giggled, turning toward her friend with the fan and then back to him.

Riku laughed nervously and held up his hands to shield his face. Part reflex, part knowing Iori would scold him later for wearing that flustered look again, especially if it circulated online.

“I wanted to see your real face,” she pouted, suddenly leaning into his space.

She was too close.

He took a cautious step back and averted his gaze to the floor.

He lowered his hands slightly to look at the group again. “I uh, I…I appreciate you coming to support me, but I really should get going! There are people waiting for me.”

He went to step around her.

The fourth girl with a decorated itabag moved forward, blocking the hallway.

“Can we at least get a picture? Just us, not posted anywhere, we promise.”

“Ah…I’m not supposed to do photos outside of scheduled events,” he said, with a sheepish laugh. “Even if you don’t post, the agency—”

“It’s just one,” the girl insisted. “For us.”

Riku instinctively backed up half a step, followed by the girl with the red hairpin, who matched each step with her own.

She smelled like vanilla and fabric softener. He became aware, then, of how quiet the corridor was. How far the doors seemed now.

“Oh…right…I’m sorry, I really can’t,” he repeated himself, trying to keep his tone light. “But I really do appreciate you waiting! I’ll try to wave to you at the next show, okay?”

“Don’t you remember me?” One of the girls asked suddenly.

A weight dropped in his stomach.

“A little less than a year ago. At the Osaka meet-and-greet. I gave you the hand-drawn keychain with a dog on it.”

He blinked.

His mind scrambled to remember. Hundreds, no, thousands, of fans and their faces. It was a blur of happy smiles, voices, and gifts. So many beautiful moments offered with love.

He wanted to remember. Truly.

Every single face, every handmade gift and heartfelt letter.

Even if the details sometimes slipped away with time, the warmth behind them never did.

He didn’t remember the keychain, not exactly. But he remembered what it meant. Someone had cared enough to make it for him.

And that meant everything.

He opened his mouth, unable to find the right words.

Her expression shifted. It didn’t twist into a scowl. It just froze. A hollow smile with nothing behind it.

“You said it was cute. You said it made you happy.”

Riku’s heart skipped.

“I’m sure it did!” He said quickly, offering an earnest smile. “I mean it, really! All of your support means the world to me—”

The girl with the red hairpin in front of him suddenly reached out and grabbed his wrist.

The moment of contact startled him more than it should have.

“I made this for you,” she said, pulling something from her bag. It was a small bracelet, intricately braided and red. 

“It has your name and mine. Theirs too. Look.”

He tried to pull his hand back gently. “Ah, is that so? Thank you so much! I’ll be sure to put it on later!”

Her grip tightened.

“You can wear it now,” she said softly. “Just for a second, right, Rikkun? ”

“I…” His voice came out too quiet, too unsure.

She pushed the sleeve of his sweatshirt up and slipped the bracelet over his wrist anyway.

“I really have to get going,” he tried again. “I’m sorry.”

He avoided looking her in the eyes, opting to stare at the red hairpin.

Two of the other girls stepped forward.

“You said we were important. We waited hours just to see you…”

“Don’t ruin it,” the fourth girl said flatly, crossing her arms. “Don’t pretend we’re just some random people. You told me I was cute. At your own event. You looked right at me.”

His skin felt too tight. His heart was thudding, the panic becoming more undeniable.

One of the girls with their phone out raised it again, closer this time.

Riku reached out instinctively to block the lens.

“Sorry, I could get in trouble for taking photos with you right now, so no photos, please!”

The third girl reached out suddenly and touched his chest, fingers brushing the hem of his sweatshirt.

His voice caught in his throat.

“Do you ever get lonely, Riku-kun?” She asked. “You give so much love to everyone. Doesn’t it feel empty when no one gives it back?”

“Eh?”

His smile twitched, confused. Was she quoting something? 

“I’m okay, really!” He replied with a small laugh, his nerves threatening to show.

“I’ve got IDOLiSH7, and fans like you, so I’m not lonely!”

“But it’s not the same,” the girl with the phone said, lowering it to reveal her face to Riku. “They don’t know you like we do.”

The red-hairpin girl leaned in again. 

“Rikkun, do you ever think about what it would be like to date a fan? Someone who listens to your radio shows, reads every interview, saves every photo...”

“I…” he stepped back, hitting the wall behind him.

This was bad. He needed to get out of this situation, now. 

Without escalating things.

“I need to call Tamaki!” He blurted, reaching into his pocket.

A hand grabbed his wrist before he could unlock it.

“Wait,” the girl said sharply.

Slowly, he lifted his gaze from the red hairpin and met her eyes.

Her eyes were intense, but pleading.

“Please let go,” he managed. 

“...You’re kind of scaring me.” He finished quietly.

And he meant it with the most sincerity.

But the girl holding him laughed and broke eye contact.

“You’re scared, of us ?” She asked with an almost incredulous tone. “We’re the ones who love you.”

The girl looked visibly upset now.

Someone from behind her suddenly raised a phone and snapped a photo. The flash burst in his face.

He twisted away, heart racing now, chest tight.

“Please understand…you can’t—I can’t…this isn’t okay…!” He fumbled over his words, trying to make a polite excuse amidst the weight of their stares.

But their eyes had changed. It was like a switch had flipped.

“Don’t be like that!” One of them chided him. “We’re just happy to see you up close.”

“We’re not trying to upset you, we just really care.”

“Is this how you really are, or are you just nervous?” Another spoke, her tone remaining innocent but tight enough to hold the crushing accusation. 

“You flirt with every fan, and now you act like we’re crazy?”

“Don’t say such cruel things to us! We just want to support you!”

“Please, Rikkun!”

The words stung. They didn’t even make sense, but they cut deep anyway.

He didn’t want to run, make a fool of himself. Didn’t want to shove past them, and effectively ruin whatever fragile thing they thought they had. 

A part of him still clung to the belief that if he just stayed nice, they’d listen. But they didn’t.

He gently pushed forward in an attempt to wedge past them, but a hand caught the back of his hood, yanking him sideways.

He stumbled backwards, slamming shoulder-first into the wall, momentarily stunning himself. Pain flared.

A hand ghosted over his face while another reached out to touch his shoulder. Coddling. Possessive. He tried to steady himself upright.

The sound of his phone clattering to the floor broke the moment.

“Riku-kun…!” A voice called out from somewhere far behind the girls.

A rush of footsteps.

Yelling.

Voices. Some familiar, some not. Probably staff.

Security closed in a second later. The girls backed off, all of them wide-eyed, like a bunch of deer caught in headlights.

But it didn’t look like regret. It looked like disappointment.

Like he’d ruined something special. 

It was the last look he got before the group scattered.

And he felt awful for it.

Riku picked himself up, breath shuddering in and out, hands shaking, willing himself not to have an asthma attack now of all times.

Sogo appeared from seemingly thin air and offered a hand to steady himself with.

“Everything alright? Do you need your inhaler?” Sogo immediately asked once Riku’s breathing had eased.

“I’m okay, just got a little startled.” He managed with a smile. He hoped Sogo hadn’t seen him half-collapsed against the wall with the girls crowded around him.

“Did they hurt you?” Sogo quickly followed up, his eyes scanning over Riku for any signs of damage.

“No, no! I’m alright, thank you. I just stumbled and knocked the wind out of myself at the end there!” He offered with a small laugh, rubbing the back of his head.

And for a moment, his word was enough. Sogo’s shoulders eased, if only slightly. But Riku knew that look. That lingering concern people got when something didn’t sit right.

He hated that look. Hated that he caused it. He hated it most when it was aimed at him by people who cared.

Sogo didn’t push. He simply hovered close, walking with Riku toward the exit and out into the cool air of the parking lot where the familiar IDOLiSH7 van sat idling under the amber glow of the overhead lights.

The door slid open before they even reached it.

Inside, their manager met them with immediate concern. 

“Ah, there you are! We sent Sogo-san in to look for you. Everything okay?”

“Sorry for the hold up, manager,” Sogo said gently, helping Riku into the van.

When Sogo didn’t offer an explanation, Riku spoke up. “Sorry,” he echoed sheepishly, slipping into his seat. “Got caught up with some fans. A handful snuck backstage. No big deal.”

“—what? ” Iori’s voice came from somewhere across the seats, sharp and immediate.

Riku winced inwardly. Wrong choice of words.

“I mean…just a few passionate fans. Nothing bad happened. Then I sort of ran into a wall trying to leave,” he added, trying to laugh like it was ridiculous.

“Oh no!” Nagi dramatically exclaimed in English before switching back. “Are you alright?”

“You ran into a wall? ” Yamato repeated, brows raising, caught between a laugh and concern.

“I probably just gave myself a small bruise,” Riku waved it off, puffing out his cheeks dramatically for full effect. “I got startled! That’s all.”

His little pout earned a small laugh from Mitsuki and an indulgent eye-roll from Yamato. The atmosphere in the van lightened a little, but not completely. He could feel their lingering questions in their stares.

“S’okay,” Tamaki said finally, gently, ruffling his hair. “We’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

Riku smiled at that. A real one, even.

He appreciated it. More than he could say.

But that didn’t mean he felt any better about the whole ordeal.

He hadn’t noticed he was still wearing the bracelet until he buckled his seatbelt, and his sleeve shifted. The red threads caught the light like a cut across his skin.

“Riku,” Nagi said quietly, his ever-sharp eyes catching the flash of the braid. “What’s that?”

Riku flinched before he could stop himself.

“Oh, uh—” He started, already tugging the sleeve down.

But it was too late.

Iori had already reached across the aisle, firm but gentle, and unfastened the bracelet with a practiced flick of his fingers before Riku could protest.

“You didn’t put this on yourself,” he said flatly. His eyes lingered on the bracelet in his hand, then narrowed into something more unreadable, almost like he was dissecting it.

Riku opened his mouth, then closed it, opting to stare out the window as the van started moving. He didn’t want to argue with Iori right now.

He was going to take it off when he got home.

He was.

And now that the bracelet was gone, Riku supposed he felt…lighter. In theory.

But also, strangely, guilty.

It hadn’t been a weapon. Just a gift. A token of affection from someone who adored him. Loved him even. And maybe, if things had gone differently, he might’ve kept it. Smiled at it. Thanked them sincerely.

But he tried not to let himself dwell on that for too long.

The others had reassured him he’d done the right thing, agreeing to simply dispose of the gift. So he let Iori take care of it.

But the guilt slammed back into him when Tenn caught wind of the situation. Sogo had probably said something about what he’d seen. From there, someone must have said something. Whether it got to Tenn directly or from word of mouth, it didn’t matter.

Tenn showed up at the dorms to visit the next morning, completely impromptu.

He didn’t say a word. Riku barely had time to process his presence before Tenn’s arms were around him, pulling him into a hug so tight it nearly knocked the air from his lungs. Eventually, it loosened as Tenn realized the hug was too tight.

And for a while, Riku just stood there, unable to say anything.

His mind was caught in the quiet, spiraling mess of the encounter.

The interaction had been the first time he felt anything but joy and gratitude towards his own fans. Now he knew what it felt like to be cornered, not by hatred, but by love taken too far. 

But Riku knew. He wasn’t an idiot. Not every fan would do what they did. Most were kind. Most were wonderful. He knew that. And so, of course, Tenn knew that. That’s why he was here, hugging Riku. Comforting him not just as a brother, but as someone who understood.

Tenn had seen both sides of fame. The pressure, the blurred boundaries. The way admiration could twist into something sharp and suffocating.

He could feel it in the way Tenn held him. It was delicate, knowing, and grounding. It was a silent acknowledgment.

But all it did was make Riku feel worse.

Because Tenn didn’t know the part Riku was too ashamed to say out loud—and the question that followed. 

One he doubted anyone would understand. 

Not even Tenn.

Would I have done the same?

If the roles were reversed. If he’d never debuted. If he were just another face in a crowd, idolizing TRIGGER from afar—

Would he have chased Tenn-nii like that?

Would he have grabbed his wrist, begged him to stay, wanting more than Tenn could give?

He didn’t want to answer that.

He didn’t want to know.

Didn’t want to admit how easily he could picture it.

How familiar that kind of desperation felt.

The thought clung to him as he stood in his brother’s arms, letting himself be held.

And it made him feel dirty.

Ashamed.

Weak.

Pathetic.

Because now, more than ever, he understood where those fans were coming from.

And that empathy—

it wasn’t comforting.

It was horrifying.

That thin, trembling line between love and obsession, he understood it. All while selfishly clinging to the very person he once chased without hesitation.