A snowflake for Yuuki_Nyanmaru!
Sep. 4th, 2023 01:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
snowmods09 posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
snow_exchangeTitle: my heart will stay open for you
Pairings: Meguro Ren/Watanabe Shota
Genres: Modern Setting, Mild Angst, Getting Back Together
Rating: Explicit
Summary: Shota never expected Ren Meguro to return to Tokyo and look for him the very moment he decided to move on. After four years apart, he finds himself letting Ren Meguro back into his heart once more.
Warnings: —
Author’s notes: yuuki_nyanmaru, I really wanted to write a great fic for you so I hope you enjoy the result! Though I didn’t use one of your prompts, I combined the general ~vibes~ of quite a few of your likes to create a “famous person returns home for the holidays and rekindles romance with the love of his life” kind of thing.
The last thing Shota expected to see while wandering around the bookstore was a wall of magazines with none other than Ren Meguro’s face on them, the dim light of this corner of the bookstore effectively giving each and every glossy copy of his face a soft halo.
And there was nothing for Shota to do but stop and admire the display for a moment.
It had been a while since he had seen this face grace the stands in a bookstore. The last time he saw this sight must have been a little over a year ago, before Ren Meguro had left Japan in pursuit of bigger, better things for himself.
It was different, seeing him now.
He was different.
Ren Meguro, his skin just a bit tanner and brighter than Shota remembered, stared back at him with sultry, deep brown eyes. It was a sensual expression, which he had previously claimed he could never make for a magazine cover, that lured the reader in, absolutely captivating. So he had learned how to do it, Shota thought fleetingly, some time between then and now. One of his hands was caught in the midst of loosening an already loose tie around his neck, the top buttons of his purposely rumpled shirt undone to reveal more of his beautifully tanned skin, as the other hand seemed to be propping him up against an invisible wall before the camera that shot the photo, making it look like he was caging in the reader.
Sexy, suggestive, and very unlike the Ren Meguro that Shota was familiar with.
His name was printed in the corner, large and pale pink, with the enticing line for the featured article above it: The Manly Charms of an International Superstar.
Ah, of course, he thought.
Shota stopped for a moment to take it in, wondering if he should take a picture, even if only for him to appreciate later on by himself.
A pair of young ladies came up and stood in front of the display as he considered it, and they clearly had the same idea. They must’ve been high schoolers, their faces still radiating a certain kind of innocence as they excitedly began to talk about Ren Meguro. One of them held up her phone, the click! of the camera going off a couple of times as she moved around in front of the display, taking a few paces this way and that, turning her phone from portrait to landscape. The other young woman held a copy delicately in her hands, an awfully endearing expression on her face as she carefully began to look through the magazine.
“Ah, isn’t Meguro-kun just so handsome?” she asked her friend, her voice a little airy with amazement.
Her friend was quick to agree, her shrill voice loudly claiming: “Meme-chan is absolutely perfect!”
It only took a moment before they both picked up a couple more copies and rushed off, going off about how one was for flipping through and one would be locked away to ensure its pristine condition. As they rushed away excitedly, Shota noticed the charms dangling from their bags; all of them were some type of official merchandise from projects Ren Meguro had worked on in the past.
And as they left, some more young women took their places, their excitement just as intense as the previous two as they fawned over the cover. They also took more than just one copy, holding them as if they were precious and looking upon his face with something that Shota could only describe as pure, unadulterated love and admiration. It was clear that these were not just any young women who just happened to find him handsome; they were his fans—truly dedicated and loyal fans, actively seeking out each and every opportunity to show their unwavering support for someone they loved.
To them, in this very moment, Ren Meguro was everything. And to Shota, Ren Meguro was…
He quickly stepped away from the display as he remembered it all, giving the young women all the space they needed to take their pictures. He was suddenly aware of the uniqueness of his situation, of his connection to Ren Meguro.
Briefly, Shota felt the ghost of a touch against his right hand—the memory he had worked hard to avoid finally breaking free from where he was sure he’d locked it up in his mind, and he flinched a little, nearly dropping his basket full of books on the floor. He looked down at the reddened palm of his right hand, flexing and wiggling his fingers a little to bring him back to reality. He was convinced that this hand, which had once held Ren Meguro, was destined to be cursed for the rest of his pathetic life, perpetually reaching for something, someone out of his grasp. It was the only remaining part of him that remained stuck in a past where he still foolishly held hope for a future that he now knew was impossible.
He closed his fingers into a fist, squeezing hard until he was sure his neatly trimmed nails had left indents in the center of his palm, and he felt a slight ache in the knuckles of his fingers. Physical pain was always a good distraction from emotional pain.
When he felt like he was back in his own body, back in present day-Tokyo, he turned and walked away, not sparing a glance back at the display.
It had been four years, he reminded himself. He had let it go. He had to let it go.
Because, be it an idol, actor, or international superstar, Ren Meguro was someone Shota hadn’t known in a long time.
🙤❦🙦
It had taken him three days to work up the nerve to finally pull out his purchases from the bookstore from the plastic bag the cashier had put them in. He put his books on economics on his bookshelf, hoping to get to them eventually, and then he set aside the novel that one of his co-workers recommended for him to start later. And finally, he pulled out the magazine.
Shota knew he had weaknesses, but he was sure that this particular one was truly pitiful and pathetic.
He hadn’t meant to buy it at all, but once he was making his way back to pay for everything, he stopped by the display once again, and he found himself reaching for it before he could think better of it. Cursed, he thought again, to always reach out for Ren Meguro.
He held it in both of his hands now, careful not to press the pads of his thumbs too hard against the glossy cover. He wondered if he was wearing the same awestruck expression as the young ladies in the bookstore as he took in Ren Meguro’s face. He was sure it must be a sorry sight for a grown man to look at another the same way a lovestruck teenage girl would.
Quickly, he pushed the feeling away. It was different, he thought to himself. Unlike those girls, who could only fantasize about being able to be in the presence of Ren Meguro, Shota had a more real reason to be this way—there were real touches, conversations, and memories between them, even if they were of years past.
And after a moment of hesitance, Shota flipped through the magazine, mostly looking at the images rather than reading the interview or Q&A. He knew better than to read about how fantastic Ren Meguro was doing with his life, whatever morning routine he had, or what he looked for in a lover or relationship. He had personally known all those things once; he didn’t need to know if they had changed as much as his appearance had.
A few pages showcased a short series of photos of him removing his tie, almost provocative in the way he offered it to the camera with a hand on his jutted out hip in the final image. Then there were a few more pages with him in a different outfit, capturing him in the middle of fixing his dark hair or stretching his arms out just enough that the sweater he wore rode up his stomach, revealing the smooth, tan skin there. And in each image, his expression was at least a little flirtatious—the teasing smile, the subtle smirk, or the alluring eyes paired with slightly parted, pouty lips.
This close, he could see what the young women were fawning about. And the conclusion that Shota came to was that Ren Meguro was different. Whether it was the water or the air of Los Angeles, it had changed him.
This was no longer the cute boy-next-door type that was stuck as the second love interest and wasn’t spared a second glance.
He definitely was a little tanner, and his face was slightly slimmer, but in a way that showed how strong and defined features like his jaw were. From the full body photos, Shota gathered that he seemed to have worked on his body a little, with the tight sweater from the second outfit highlighting his arms and chest nicely. He likely hadn’t grown, but he seemed taller than before, and perhaps it was because he had gained a different sense of confidence in his time away. It was a growth from and a complete shedding of the image Ren Meguro had as an actor in Japan just a year before.
Ren Meguro was simply hotter than he’d ever been before. There was nothing else to say about it.
The manly charms of an international superstar indeed.
Before he closed the magazine, he caught sight of the personnel credits printed underneath photos and chunks of text. It was the things readers paid little attention to, but Shota’s eyes caught onto a name there.
Photography by Koji Mukai.
It was not the first time he had seen that name printed there, and he suspected it wouldn’t be the last either.
Closing the magazine, Shota stood from his sofa and shuffled over to his bookcase. He carefully got on his knees and pulled open one of the drawers built into the bottom. Ren Meguro’s face from over a year ago was staring up at him, fuller and less mature than he looked now. He set the new magazine on the floor beside him and picked up the old one, flipping through it and confirming that Koji had also taken these photos. Beneath that old magazine was an even older one, and he knew Koji’s name was printed in the credits there as well. Beneath that even older magazine, another and another and another, all of them with Ren Meguro’s face on them and Koji’s name printed in them.
So Koji had known, likely for weeks if not months, that he was coming back to Japan, but he hadn’t said anything about it to Shota.
With a small huff, Shota put both magazines away and shut the drawer with a bit more force than necessary.
Maybe Koji hadn’t always told Shota when he was working with Ren Meguro for a magazine, but surely this time would’ve stood out as being important because, for the first time in over a year, Ren Meguro was on the cover of a Japanese magazine. If there was anyone who loved to talk about Ren Meguro, it was Koji, and after a year away, why wouldn’t he take the opportunity to talk about the return of his close friend and favorite star? It didn’t make sense.
He stood up, brushed off his aching knees, and reached for his phone before he stopped, remembering something.
“Koji doesn’t really owe you anything, you know,” Ryota had said to him not too long ago.
Shota couldn’t remember how it came up in conversation, but it had—the topic of Ren Meguro’s absence and Shota’s quiet yearning for his return. For the better part of a year, it was something he tried not to think about, and it was definitely something he avoided speaking of, especially with someone like Ryota, who knew Shota far too well, because Ryota’s straightforwardness had a way of humbling him, and even though it was well-meaning, it always left him feeling a little more pathetic.
Setting his phone down, he silently thanked both Ryota and Koji. Ryota for grounding him yet again, even if only in his mind, and Koji for sparing him from yet another moment of humiliation.
“Isn’t it about time we let the past be the past?” Ryota had said.
Shota wished it could be that easy.
He knew full well how embarrassing it was to be stuck on someone he had an insignificant relationship with years ago. And while Shota spent precious time thinking about him, it was likely that Ren Meguro had not and would never spare even a sliver of a thought on Shota again.
🙤❦🙦
Q&A Session with Ren Meguro
Q: Is there anything or anyone you missed during your time away from Japan?
A: I definitely missed my dog! I left her in the care of my parents, so I received videos and photos often. Of course, I missed my family as well, but they came to visit me a few times. While I was living in a nice house in Los Angeles, I also longed for my place. Even though it’s the same sky, being out on the veranda and stargazing feels very different over there! Oddly enough, during those times, I began to miss people that I haven’t spoken to in a long time and spent a lot of time reminiscing about our time together. I came back with the determination to reach out to them, share my feelings, and rekindle our relationship.
🙤❦🙦
One could easily tell when Koji was embarrassed. He wore it all over his face and was the kind to be unable to keep his mouth shut, spilling all his beans as he tried to rectify whatever he was flustered over. It was a little funny at best and absolutely humiliating at worst, for not only Koji but everyone involved.
“I meant to tell you, Shoppi!” he exclaimed, reaching out and awkwardly taking Shota by the shoulders to shake him a few times. “I really did! But you know how it is with these things! I have contracts and agreements, and Meme said not to tell you!”
It was clear that he meant to keep this to himself if the way he suddenly let Shota go to cover his mouth was anything to go by. It would have been funny if it had been about anything else. But why would he ask that of Koji? Not to tell him?
“If he told you not to tell me, does that mean he’s known all this time that you tell me when you work together?”
Koji let out a wordless cry, dropping his head down to hide his face in his arms. His voice was muffled as he spoke again: “That’s not—”
“It’s fine,” Shota said, reaching over to pat him on the shoulder. “Ren Meguro and I are strangers now. It’s better if—”
Shota paused, letting his hand hover over Koji’s shoulder for a moment. He curled his fingers a little, suddenly hesitant.
It was true that they were strangers now. Even if they had once known each other, that wasn’t the case anymore. After four years of complete silence, Shota could no longer say that he knew who Ren Meguro was, or that he was known in return. Whatever memories and feelings lingered, it wasn’t enough. Ryota was right about what he said that day: it was time to let the past be the past.
“Let's just leave it at that,” he finished, pulling his hand back. “It’s in the past now.”
Koji still looked a little dejected, but he had no choice. Thankfully, they were able to move on quickly, with Ryota bringing out their lunch and setting it on the table, explaining what it was. It was something new and enough to distract both Koji and Shota from the conversation they had been having. Shota dug into the meal happily, complimenting Ryota and giving him a couple recommendations on what he could change before adding it to the menu.
Very quickly, Shota let go of the thought of Ren Meguro, indulging his friends on whatever they wanted to talk about and answering their questions in kind. It was easy to forget him when he had friends like this, so willing and quick to move on from the uncomfortable.
But of course, they wouldn’t just let him go so easily.
By the time the sun was coming down and they had downed half a bottle of Ryota’s finest wine, Shota was gearing up to leave. He had several classes tomorrow, and he needed all the rest he could get if he wanted to get through them. He’d go home, prepare himself some ginger tea, and wind down with a book before going to bed, just like he did every night.
“I’ll see you next time you need a menu taster,” he said, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder.
He waved towards Koji, who was still sitting at the table they’d eaten at. Koji waved back with a silly smile, a little more tipsy than he and Ryota were.
“G’night, Shoppi!” he called out, a tinge of his accent slipping out with the slurred syllables. “See ya!”
Ryota smiled fondly before turning back to face Shota. “Thank you for being my guinea pig again,” he said, pressing a hand to his chest. “I appreciate it.”
Shota waved him off, smiling. “Anything for you,” he said. “You know that.”
There was something else Ryota wanted to say. Shota could tell from the way he scuffed his shoes on the floor and cleared his throat, his eyes looking around at the various items that decorated the restaurant entrance.
“About Meguro—”
Ah, of course.
Shota laughed, shaking his head. “Don’t worry about it,” he said.
It hurt. Even after a few years, it still hurt. But moving on had to begin somewhere somehow, and after ruminating over old magazine covers and fizzy drink ads that popped up on his YouTube front page, Shota learned that moving on was a choice he had to make. For so long, he had chosen to remain in those lingering feelings and bask in the hurt, but no more. This time, he would do what he hadn’t done back then and choose differently.
“His face is something I’ll never be able to get away from, I know, but I—”
“Koji gave him your number,” Ryota said suddenly.
Shota stopped in his tracks, his mouth hanging open with the words he was going to say. Instead of telling Ryota that he would move on, what came out was, “Why the hell would he do that?”
Ryota sighed deeply. If there was anyone who would be able to find the rhyme or reason why Koji did anything, it would be Ryota, so to see him at a loss was surprising. It only further annoyed Shota.
“He has no right.”
A warm hand fell on his shoulder, squeezing tightly. “From what I know, Meguro asked for it himself. Maybe he wants—”
“It doesn’t matter what he wants,” Shota interrupted. He shrugged off Ryota’s hand, knowing he wouldn’t be hurt by the coldness. “Just because he’s famous doesn’t mean he can just—ugh!”
Shota dropped his head into his hands, letting himself fall into a crouch. He felt himself growing hotter, his annoyance at Koji transforming into anger towards Ren Meguro.
Why? Just when he decided it was time to let go.
Ryota crouched in front of him, the same hand from before coming out to rub comforting circles on his shoulder. This time, Shota let him be.
“He’s had it for a while now, so we thought he might’ve already reached out,” he admitted quietly. “It seems he hasn’t.”
Shota huffed, feeling his hot breath against his palms and cheeks. Then he looked up. “Give it to me. His number.”
There was a skeptical expression on Ryota’s face. “You could’ve asked for it any time since then, but you decide now is the time?”
“I just want to know what number to block.”
“You’d never do that,” Ryota said, finally pulling Shota back up. He fixed Shota’s jacket and bag strap, just like a mother would, and then patted his chest. Shota waited, watching as Ryota fished his phone out and tapped around the screen. There was a buzz from Shota’s bag. “There.”
Shota was sent off shortly after, with a pat on the back and a lump in his throat.
It wasn’t until he arrived at his apartment that he felt able to swallow it down. He looked at the contact Ryota had sent him, cautiously saving it under Ren Meguro. The only thing that calmed him was that Ren Meguro was likely too busy to even be able to actually reach out. No matter what he wanted, it surely wasn’t important enough to set time aside in a busy schedule.
There would be no use in hoping.
Shota would stick with his decision, and, come hell or high water, he would not reach for Ren Meguro anymore.
🙤❦🙦
By the second half of October, Ren Meguro’s contact in Shota’s phone was mostly forgotten. Shota may not be famous, but he was still a very busy man. In a way, he helped others get famous, since most of his students at the school were aspiring idols, whether they were already scouted by a company or not. His remaining students were those who sang as a hobby or worked in things like theater.
“You’re still straining yourself a bit too much here,” Shota said, tapping the end of his pen on the table. He sat up straighter on the piano bench and placed a hand on his abdomen. “Here, follow me.”
The young woman sitting in the chair near the table mirrored his actions, following his instructions as he helped her through the technique. He had her repeat it, stopping and fixing as he went, and complimenting her as she began to get the hang of it.
“It feels better, easier, doesn’t it?” he asked, smiling when she nodded. He picked up his pen again and used it to point at the sheet music. “Now, let’s try singing this again.”
He had one hand hovering over the keys of the piano, playing one part of the music as she went through it again. He heard his phone buzz, loudly rattling on the table, and they stopped. He reached over and silenced it, apologizing to his student before having her do it again. He thought nothing of it, so used to rejecting calls and silencing his phone during his working hours.
They managed to get through another part of the song she was practicing by the time her lesson was up, and as she gathered her things, Shota began to clear the sheet music and books, looking for the correct things for his next student.
“Do you have another class after this?” he asked her.
She nodded. “Yes, the group dance lesson with Mr. Iwamoto,” she said, and Shota couldn’t help but notice the red blooming on her cheeks.
“Oh?” He smiled. “I heard he’s in a particularly good mood today, so I’m sure he won’t be too hard on you.”
At this, she seemed relieved and excited. Shota found that he didn’t have the heart to tell her that the reason Hikaru was in such a pleasant mood was because his fiancé had the time to stop by during lunch earlier today. Instead, he bid her goodbye until the next week, laughing under his breath as she hurried out with a shy smile on her face.
As he picked up his phone, wondering who had called him, his next student came in, and he immediately set the phone back down. Unlike the young woman from before, who only sang as a hobby, this was one of those aspiring idol students. Still in high school and very promising. He found that they needed more attention the younger they were, and he could afford no distractions from one of his best.
“Yo, teach,” he said, taking his seat at the table.
Shota laughed. “Hey, what’d I say about you calling me that?”
🙤❦🙦
INCOMING
Ren Meguro – 21/10/2026
1:27
Shoppi? Ah, I mean, um—is this Shota Watanabe’s phone? This is… it’s me. Ren Meguro. I don’t know if you remember… ah, what am I saying? Of course you remember me. I mean, not that you should—I, ugh. Actually, I came back to Tokyo recently, as I’m sure you’ve seen. Anyway, I suddenly thought of you right when I got back, but I was busy, so I couldn’t contact you earlier. Koji finally gave me your number. I, I didn’t know you’d changed it. Ah… so, I wanted to know if it would be okay if I treated you to a meal. I know it’s been so long but I want to see you again. To thank you, that is. After all, none of this would’ve been possible without you.
🙤❦🙦
If anyone asked Shota how many times he listened to the voicemail, he would say he hadn’t listened to it at all.
He’d never admit to having listened to it over and over again through his earphones the entire ride home—enough that he had memorized the entire message; enough that he still heard it in his ears long after he removed his earphones and the sounds of the crowds drowned everything else out.
And as he prepared himself a quick and simple dinner, he considered the message itself and not just the voice that had spoken the words.
Thank him? That was ridiculous.
Shota hadn’t done anything for Ren Meguro. At least nothing worth thanking. Sure, Shota had been his vocal instructor once upon a time, but that was long ago, before they even got tangled up in their complicated emotions. Ren Meguro had made use of Shota’s lessons, but only for a year, and after that, singing was the last thing on Ren Meguro’s mind. Only a very, very small fraction of Ren Meguro’s popularity was due to his activities as a former idol.
And if anything, Shota should be thanking him. If it hadn’t been for him, Shota would never have had half the clientele he has today. It had only taken one small mention of the performing arts school, some off-hand comment on a variety show when talking about his past and where he’d learned his talent, to boost them into being a reliable place to send aspiring idols, dancers, and actors.
Damn it. Shota had to respond, didn’t he?
It’d been nearly a month since Ryota had told him Koji had handed over his number. In that time, Ren Meguro’s presence in Tokyo had only grown, and fans were celebrating his homecoming in earnest. A drama announcement had been made, with Ren Meguro portraying some kind of sexy lead detective, and the first episode had just aired. A movie had also been announced earlier in the month with Ren Meguro as the lead, promising yet another role that was new and different from previous projects. And with all that came the promotions for it all: highlights of press conferences and photo ops becoming hot topics on morning shows, interviews, guest appearances on variety shows, billboards, and magazine covers.
He had to be beyond busy. And still, he had found the time, even if it was just two measly minutes, to leave such a message for Shota?
Shota pushed his bowl of rice aside, not as hungry as before. He looked at the magazine on the table. It was new. This time, Ren Meguro was dressed in something fun and bright, but he still had that sensual expression on his face. The featured article line simply read: Bright, Burning, Beautiful — All Eyes on Ren Meguro.
There was no way in hell that most, if not the entire country, had been waiting with bated breath for Ren Meguro’s return to Japan after a successful stint in the US just for him to come back and decide that looking for someone as unimportant as Shota was top priority.
“‘Thought of you’, huh?” Shota huffed in annoyance. “How stupid.”
Regardless, he picked up his phone and opened his messaging app. It’d be easier for Shota to just message him. A call, though preferable for contacting most anyone else he knew, would not be feasible. Shota couldn’t be sure that he wouldn’t stutter and stop every other word the moment he heard Ren Meguro’s voice in real time.
His thumbs hovered over his phone’s keyboard as he wondered what would be appropriate for a first message. It had been so long. But what good was it to act like they were meeting for the first time and force themselves to sit in the awkwardness? If Shota acted like this was nothing, like they had never crossed the line of friendship, it would be easier to pretend it was the truth.
You should know that it’s rude to call people during their work hours.
The response was immediate: It was the only time I had. I’m sorry I wasn’t more considerate. But I’m glad you answered.
A sudden ache made itself known in Shota’s chest. He curled his hand into a fist and pounded down on the spot hard, taking a few deep breaths. Damn. This was going to be harder than he thought.
So your offer—when is it good for?
He couldn’t let himself sit on the fact that Ren Meguro was glad to have heard from him. It wouldn’t be good for him.
Are you free on Sunday?
Shota usually had Sundays off, and he spent them cycling through the comfortable routine of sleeping, eating, and watching TV all day. It was usually the only day he had to laze around, but he could easily exchange two or three hours for lunch with the Ren Meguro. Regardless of how Shota felt, the man was still a famous superstar. Anyone would be crazy not to take up the offer.
Sure am. I leave lunch to you then. Thanks
There was no immediate answer this time. Shota was relieved that the conversation had been so straightforward. Now, he could peacefully finish his dinner and watch a movie, and he wouldn’t have to hear from him again until—
His phone pinged again, and he picked it up, wondering where Ren Meguro would take him out to lunch. If it was really to thank him—and it probably was because Ren Meguro was always genuine about his intentions—it should be somewhere nice.
I was actually thinking about dinner.
“What the fuck?” Shota murmured.
🙤❦🙦
There was no way he could back out now. Shota had accepted, and he had wasted his one opportunity to get out of it. Ren Meguro himself had been kind enough to open up the possibility for him to flake the night before, his message of Are we still on for tomorrow night? the perfect chance for Shota to make his excuses to not see him face-to-face, but he’d stupidly replied with Of course we are.
He had already gone through the process of getting ready, dressing in something appropriate for the high-end hotel restaurant Ren Meguro had made reservations for, and he wouldn’t be able to allow his hard work to go to waste now. He had already come all this way, to a neighborhood way beyond what he could ever afford, so going back and having to sit in silence with himself for over an hour would be humiliating. Besides, he was hungry.
But now, as he stood in the lobby of the hotel, he knew that he couldn’t do this. If he had to, he’d go find a hole-in-the-wall ramen place and eat his dinner there, as out of place as he’d be.
Sitting on one of the plush chairs, he typed out his message.
I don’t think I can make it.
It was a blow to Shota’s reliability, maybe, but at least he preserved his self-respect. And he knew Ren Meguro would be nothing but understanding.
“I thought you might say something like that,” a voice behind him said softly.
Shota jumped up from the chair, turning around to find none other than Ren Meguro standing on the other side.
He’d always been taller than Shota, but now he seemed to tower over him. He wore a black suit with no tie, like Shota, but his was clearly more expensive, paired with cufflinks and a shiny wristwatch. His hair was neatly done and allowed Shota a clear view of his face—slim, tan, and beautiful.
“I saw you come in, actually,” he said, his voice still soft.
Shota finally gathered himself, turning away and resisting the urge to press his palms to his hot face. “Ah, well…”
There was a pause, and Shota was forced to look up, meeting his gaze.
“It’s been a while, huh?” Ren Meguro smiled.
And it was a real smile. It wasn’t like the kind Shota saw him do for the cameras on TV, even though those were also genuine smiles. The difference was that this kind of smile left a tender expression on Ren Meguro’s face, something like affection in his eyes, as if he were looking at something he loved dearly. It’d been a smile Shota had seen before—something only he had seen before—that he never thought he’d see again.
“It has been.”
Shota curled his hands into fists at his sides. It would only take one word from Ren Meguro for everything to come crumbling down.
“Shoppi, if”—Ren Meguro cleared his throat—“Watanabe, if the restaurant is too public a place, we could have dinner in a room.”
The sound of the nickname made Shota inhale sharply, and he could only hope that it went unnoticed. And then, the rest of what he said registered in his mind. A room, as in one of the hotel rooms?
“That would be…”
“It’s a bit much, isn’t it?” Ren Meguro smiled again. This time, it was one of those sad ones, where the corners of his lips turned down even as he was trying to make them turn up. “That’s fair.”
Shota had nothing to say. He wasn’t going to insist on dinner. He had been the one invited, after all. But if Ren Meguro insisted, he would accept. He would always accept. He had to know that much. Even after being apart for so long, Ren Meguro had to know that he was the only exception to Shota’s rules.
“Then I can’t force you.”
But you can, Shota thought, and you should.
“Still, you came, and for that, I’m grateful. I’m happy I had a chance to see you. Let me put in an order at the restaurant for you to take home, at the very least.” Ren Meguro stretched out an arm over the chair, offering a small box. “And happy birthday.”
Shota was surprised. It was Sunday, the 8th, so his birthday had already passed.
On Thursday morning, he had read through all the messages from his parents, his sister, his friends, and his colleagues. Just like every year, they teased him a little, and he just said thank you. He got money from his parents electronically, with the same message they used every year about how he was too old to be getting birthday money; flowers delivered from Hikaru and Fukka with a small personally made cake from Ryota and Koji when he returned from work; and his sister stopped by to give him a hug and the presents she and her kids had prepared right before dinnertime. There was no need for celebration beyond that. Shota didn’t like it anyway.
He was thirty-four now, and most of the excitement of celebrating his birthday was gone. He was simply glad to make it through the day with the well wishes of those he cared about and who cared about him in return.
He supposed it was part of the reason why he felt he couldn’t have dinner with Ren Meguro tonight. It would feel too familiar, and the memories of when he turned 27, 28, and 29 with Ren Meguro by his side, in places as beautiful and romantic as this, would rush back to him. It wasn’t fair, not to him or Ren Meguro.
“I didn’t think you’d remember,” Shota replied, taking the box carefully. It wasn’t heavy, but it also wasn’t light enough to be something small. A watch, perhaps. He liked those the most out of any accessory; he knew that Ren Meguro knew that. “Thank you.”
Ren Meguro had nothing left to say. “We’ll take a raincheck then,” he said instead of addressing Shota’s words. “I’d like to make it up to you another time.”
Shota laughed, and it was nervous in his ears. “Oh, there’s no need to—”
“I insist,” Ren Meguro said, holding up a hand to stop him from continuing. Softly, he said: “Shoppi, please.”
And Shota could never say no to that. Not when he said it like that. “Whenever you’re free,” he muttered, looking away for a second to regain his composure.
Agreeing, while being the worst decision Shota had ever made, felt worth it if only because of the beautiful smile that graced Ren Meguro’s face and the affection in his eyes was overwhelming.
🙤❦🙦
File Name: THE PARTY HAUS, Ep. 46, Ren Meguro
Duration: 0:57:00
Air Date: 25/10/2026
[0:34:17]
ABE-CHAN:
Ah, of course! There’s appeal in that too. And do you like to shop too, Meguro? What kind of things does someone like you spend money on?
MEGURO REN:
I don’t shop a lot for myself unless I need to. But recently, I’ve been really into learning about watches. Buying one is like a long-term investment, isn’t it? Someone I know really enjoys them, so I want to understand the appeal. Next time, I want to try and show off my knowledge.
HARA:
This is the first I’m hearing of this! [laughs]
🙤❦🙦
In mid-November, Shota came across a Ren Meguro cardboard cutout while shopping. He was dressed in summer wear, oddly enough, and holding a bottle of shampoo with a bright smile. Beside the cutout was the display stand for the product. Curiously, Shota reached over, picked up one of the bottles, and read it over. Rose-scented revitalizing shampoo or something to that effect, it said. Shota was a bit picky with his beauty products, so he put it back and moved on.
Even he could stop himself from buying everything related to Ren Meguro. Though the reasoning left his mind a moment later when he picked up a few bottles of the drink that Ren Meguro had been doing CMs for for years—but he actually liked this, and he’d already been buying it for so long that it was fine for him to get!
His shopping trip was otherwise uneventful, and he returned home shortly after, unpacking his groceries and whatever else. As he waited for the sauce for the frozen noodle dish he got to heat up, his phone rang. He picked it up, sticking the phone between his ear and shoulder as he used one hand to hold his sauce pot in place and the other to stir the wooden spoon.
“Hello?”
There is silence on the other side for a second. And then: “I didn’t think you’d answer this time.”
Ren Meguro. Shota had been waiting for his call, but not really.
The first few days after they were supposed to have dinner, Shota had been riddled with anxiety, but after a week of silence, he had let it go and moved on. If Ren Meguro wanted to make it up to him, and he would because he always kept his word, it would happen in due time. Shota knew he had to accept that he wouldn’t be a top priority on the long to-do list of a major celebrity. He hadn’t been able to back then, but he could try now.
“Oh,” Shota breathed out. He blinked a few times, but his movements never faltered. “It’s you.”
There was a staticky laugh coming through. “It’s me.” Another pause. “I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner.”
“You’re busy, I get it,” Shota murmured, keeping his eyes on the wooden spoon he was holding, stirring, round and round. “It’s not like I’m not used to it. Ah, I mean—”
Ren Meguro said nothing. The silence grew awkward.
It was a stupid thing to bring up. Again, Shota hadn’t been able to accept not being a priority back then. It brought on an onslaught of memories, and all of them left a bad taste in his mouth. The lost and lonely feeling that pierced his heart on all of the nights where he stayed up, waiting at a dinner table with food gone cold, and days where plans were canceled at the last minute to accommodate a sudden, more important schedule, returned in seconds.
As much as Shota loved his space, he also loved to be seen. He had been able to do days alone, and when it was really good, even a couple weeks apart were bearable, but eventually the time spent apart was more than the time spent together. After a while, it became exhausting to share a home with a ghost. He learned more about Ren Meguro from TV and magazines than from the man himself.
And the worst memory of all, the one that had haunted Shota for months afterwards and still came back every once in a while, was the most vivid in his mind.
It was the night he yelled at Ren Meguro with tears in his eyes, foolishly asking him to pick between two things he loved most. The memory of Ren Meguro on his knees, his warm hands clinging onto Shota’s as he asked him to understand; that it would be different next time, to not leave him—it was a sight he wished he never knew.
“It’s different this time,” Ren Meguro said finally. There was no sign of hurt or sadness. He sounded fine. “I have more authority over what I do now that I—”
“Now that you’re more famous?” Shota laughed a little. He stopped stirring the sauce, now thick and dark brown, and turned off the stove, the small clack! of the knob falling into place filling the silence in his kitchen. He removed his phone from where it was lodged between his ear and shoulder and stretched out his neck a little. “Knowing you, you’ll choose to do as much work as possible. You’re not the kind to slow down.”
“It’s not like that anymore,” Ren Meguro mumbled, so low Shota barely caught it over the staticy connection. “Anyway, this is not what I called you for.”
“So you want to make it up to me?”
“Naturally.”
Shota leaned against the counter, humming. “What did you have in mind?”
“Before that, how did you like the watch?”
A sudden heat bloomed all over Shota’s face. He looked at his wrist, the light of his kitchen catching on the watch.
He couldn’t possibly admit that he had worn the watch every day since then. And he could also never say that he had posted it on his Instagram story and sent a photo into the group chat he had with two of his friends the day after it was given to him, humbly bragging about the newest addition to his collection. The reactions had been amusing, with Fukka asking if Shota had truly lost his mind and emptied his savings account to buy such a model.
“I liked it,” Shota said, looking away from the watch on his wrist. “Thank you again.”
“I’m glad,” Ren Meguro breathed out. “And about making it up to you… Is dinner all right again? We can keep it simple this time.”
Shota bit down on the inside of his cheek, gnawing a few times, before he hummed. Just dinner, he told himself, and nothing more. There would be no gifts or well-wishes this time. Something simple would be better and put less pressure on both of them. “Okay,” he agreed.
“Then how does dinner at my place sound?”
It caught him off guard enough that he gasped, and to hide it, he coughed. He pulled the phone away from his ear as he regained his composure. “Your apartment?” he asked, a little wheezy. “Sure, sure. Just tell me when.”
“I don’t live… there anymore,” Ren Meguro said. “So I’ll send you the new address.”
“Okay,” was all Shota could really reply with.
“Okay.” Another pause. “Then, good night… Shoppi.”
The line clicked before Shota could say anything else.
There was a hint of a smile in the way he had said it—Shota could tell. He’d heard that tone of voice before, all teasing and amused. No matter how mature Ren Meguro made himself be, he would always be boyish at heart. It made Shota’s heart flutter.
“Fuck,” he said, setting his phone down on the counter behind him, and the empty air around him swallowed the word, making it seem like he’d never said it at all.
🙤❦🙦
“Shoppi, you’re dressed very nice today.”
“He is, isn’t he?”
Shota rolled his eyes again. “And why are you here again?”
“Can I trust you enough to care for my most precious girl? There’s no way I’d leave you here with her.”
“Dai-chan!” the little girl whined, reaching over to hit her uncle on his leg. “Shoppi is nice to me too.”
Daisuke fixed narrowed eyes on Shota, pretending to be unconvinced. Then he clapped his hands, sighing. “Unfortunately, your mama is almost here to pick you up. Shoppi also has students to see, so come along now.”
The look on his face told Shota not to admit that he had actually finished seeing everyone for today. And he wouldn’t. He had learned from last time that it was easier to let her believe he was still working. There was less crying for everyone that way.
Shota reached out to pat the girl’s head. “I’ll see you next week, okay?”
He offered his hand for a high-five and smiled when she slapped her palm against his. She waved bye as Daisuke hoisted her up onto his hip and carried her out of the room, telling him he’d be back after he left her with her mother. Shota continued to wave until he couldn’t see them anymore and then sighed, turning back to the piano to gather his books.
He cleaned off the keys of the piano, pulling off the stickers that the previous teacher had used for the piano students, and closed the fallboard. He stuffed his books into his bag, dusted off the table, and fixed the chairs before he moved to the door. Stepping into the hall, he flicked the light off and closed the door behind him, seeing Daisuke walking back to him.
“D’ya think you’re getting off that easy?” he called out when he noticed Shota.
“I have no obligation to stay here longer than I need to,” Shota said teasingly, letting Daisuke wrap an arm around him and drag him down the hall.
As they waited in front of the elevator, Daisuke took the opportunity to finally ask the question that had to have been burning a hole in his tongue. “So, got a hot date tonight?”
Shota shoved him to the side and let him stumble. “Shut it,” he said, unable to hold back his laugh.
Daisuke grinned, coming right back up to his side. “Aw, c’mon, Shoppi. Let a man know!”
“It’s nothing like that.”
“Sure, I believe you.”
There would be no convincing his friend that it really wasn’t like that. Ren Meguro was doing this as a thank you for Shota, making up for their previous failed dinner. If Shota looked a bit tidier than usual, there was nothing to it. He would clean up nicely for anyone else he knew too. Besides, dinner in the middle of the work week could hardly count as anything else.
“So, who is it?”
“I’m not telling you,” Shota said.
There was a small ding! from the elevator before the doors slid open. Daisuke hooked his arm to Shota’s, dragging him in and hitting the button for the lobby.
Leaning his head against Shota’s shoulder, Daisuke sighed. “Well, whoever it is, I’m glad you’re getting out there again, Shoppi. He must be a good guy if he managed to successfully invite you somewhere. Don’t take it the wrong way, but I didn’t think there would be anyone else but Ren for you.”
Oh, would he be surprised if he knew who it really was that Shota was meeting tonight. But before that…
“What does that mean?”
Daisuke shrugged, his shoulder nudging Shota’s where their sides were pressed together. “I dunno,” he murmured. He sighed again, heavy, deep, and unlike him. It was serious. “I just mean that there are people who are just”—he made a vague gesture to the empty space in front of them—“y’know, like Hikaru and Fukka… like you know they’re supposed to be together.”
“And you thought I would be… what?” Shota tried to laugh, but it came out a little choked and quivering. “Ren Meguro’s soulmate? Together forever?”
Daisuke finally pulled away, but he didn’t remove his arm from where it was still hooked to Shota’s. “I suppose that’s the best way to put it,” he said seriously. “Ren definitely thought of you that way. If he’d gone to the US earlier, he probably would’ve tried to marry you there. It was like that for him.”
“He didn’t,” Shota said quickly. Saying it left a bitter taste in his mouth. He swallowed the lump forming in his throat. “He wouldn’t.”
The elevator seemed to be taking its sweet time tonight, he thought. And though he’d never been claustrophobic, it seemed like the elevator was coming in on them, and it was getting harder to breathe normally.
It wasn’t fair for Daisuke to say things like that, especially knowing that Ren Meguro was still a sensitive topic for Shota. Hearing that only served to worsen the remorse that Shota held in the back of his heart. He had broken the heart of a good man who had loved him with everything he could. Shota had robbed him of his youth and then made him feel guilty for wanting to do something he enjoyed.
“Oh, Shoppi,” Daisuke whispered, turning to look at him with a gentle expression, and it felt like he was pitying him. “You know that’s not true.”
“It’s not like you talk to him,” Shota whispered, turning his gaze down to his shoes.
He’d spent three whole minutes picking them this morning, even though he would be taking them off when he entered Ren Meguro’s apartment. Pathetic, he thought.
“Because we’ve been friends for such a long time, I know you don’t mean that the way it sounded, so I won’t take it to heart.” Suddenly, there was a hand on his back, patting him. Finally, the doors opened, and Daisuke gave him a small shove out, staying in the elevator. Once Shota was standing in the lobby, he dealt the final blow: “Ren asks about you, just so you know, when we talk. I don’t tell him anything—neither does Koji. I know you wouldn’t want that. But even after all of it, he still wants you to be happy.”
Daisuke offered a small smile as the doors closed, leaving Shota standing there, feeling miserable.
🙤❦🙦
UP NEXT: Meguro’s First Food Report After 16 Months Away!
MEGURO REN:
Woah! This is so tasty! [laughs] You know, I reminded myself of something! You know when you can imagine how someone would react to eating something? This person I know… they would be like, “Woah, so delish!” while eating something like this. So delish, so delish… This kind of dessert is so creamy and unexpectedly fluffy. It’s sweet, but not so sweet that it’s unbearable. The presentation is also very pretty, with the powdered sugar and fresh strawberries. It’s right up that person’s alley. [laughs] Excuse me! Do you think it’d be possible to get the recipe for this? Ah, it’s not?
🙤❦🙦
“You’re here,” Ren Meguro said as he opened the door.
Shota weakly stretched his arms out in presentation. “Here I am,” he said, trying his best to smile.
“Come in.”
Ren Meguro opened the door wider, letting Shota shuffle in awkwardly. He took the offered guest slippers, taking off his shoes and stepping into them before following Ren Meguro further into his home. It was bigger than the apartment he used to live in, but there was less furniture. However, that didn’t take away from the fact that Ren Meguro had so many little trinkets decorating his shelves and surfaces.
“It’s not blue,” Shota found himself saying.
Ren Meguro seemed surprised at the sudden comment, but then he chuckled, placing a hand on the back of his neck shyly. “Yeah, that stuff was old, wasn’t it? Someone else picked out the furniture for this place since I wasn’t here and they told me it didn’t fit so I let them do what they wanted and…”
They got rid of everything, Shota supplied in his mind. Whatever, he thought, it was better off that way. Picking the furniture for the previous apartment had been a nightmare when the other inhabitant was someone whose taste was as terrible as Ren Meguro’s. He had been so insistent on buying the ugliest couch, armchairs, and matching side tables all those years ago, even though Shota hated them all. Those things were better off elsewhere, haunting someone else’s living room with that horrible shade of blue.
The light brown, almost beige color, of his couch and armchairs looked very pretty combined with the dark wood of the coffee and side tables. It was very mature and sophisticated, clearly put together by someone who had an eye for these things.
“It’s pretty,” Shota said, offering a small smile.
“The kitchen is over here,” Ren Meguro said, looking away quickly.
Shota followed quietly, looking at the decorations as they went. There were mostly pictures of his family, some souvenirs, and a few more carefully selected art pieces and decorative vases and bowls. The dining table they passed was the same dark wood as the furniture in the living room, and there was a floral centerpiece with dried white flowers. Two table settings were set up, facing each other, at the farther end of the table. Shota had to look away.
The kitchen was bigger and more Western in style than most Japanese apartments had to offer. There were full cabinets made of the same wood and large white marble countertops, with a cooktop and large sink built in. He couldn’t spot the refrigerator, so he figured it was built into one of the floor-to-ceiling cabinets.
“This place must cost a pretty penny,” Shota said without thinking.
Ren Meguro laughed a little. He was stirring at something on the cooktop, his face veiled by the steam that came up. “Well, I pay it mostly because the security is top notch.” He stopped, suddenly looking at Shota. “That and also…”
He motioned back to the living room, leading Shota back out. He moved towards the curtains. They looked heavy as he pulled them back, revealing floor-to-ceiling windows leading out to a balcony. And beyond the balcony was the most beautiful view of Tokyo that Shota had ever seen.
He gasped as he moved toward the windows. “Wow,” he breathed out.
“Want to step out?”
Shota shook his head, turning away. He was a little embarrassed all of a sudden. What kind of awestruck face had he made? “It can wait,” he murmured, turning back.
“Ah, right. I made Pad Thai.” Ren Meguro looked at him expectantly. “Is that all right?”
“Sounds good,” Shota answered.
He followed him back to the kitchen, leaning against the counter and watching as he served their food onto some plates. It smelled good and looked tasty. At his instruction, Shota grabbed the wine they’d be having and returned to the dining room.
“It shouldn’t be too spicy,” Ren Meguro said. He motioned for Shota to take a seat, but he didn’t sit down.
“I can handle a little,” Shota said.
“Even so,” Ren Meguro murmured. He took a moment to open the bottle of wine and poured some out for both of them. Only then did he sit down, scooting his chair in. “The wine is a Riesling, I think. The internet said it’d pair well together.”
Shota laughed and shook his head. Even though he was nearly thirty, Ren Meguro still had a certain ignorance to him. It was amusing.
“Let’s hope it’s not too sweet then,” he said. He smoothed the cloth napkin over his lap and picked up his utensils before bringing his hands together in thanks. “It really looks delicious.”
Ren Meguro picked up his own utensils and said his thanks, but he made no move to eat. Shota carefully took his first bite, feeling the crunch of the peanuts. He covered his mouth with his hand, still holding his fork.
“Woah, this is delish,” he said, eyes wide. “Like, so delish.”
Across the table, Ren Meguro laughed. Finally, he began to eat. “I’m glad you like it.”
🙤❦🙦
November weather meant cooler evenings, but tonight was especially cool, borderline cold.
Shota was glad he had worn a sweater. He only wished he also had a scarf and maybe some gloves. He was beginning to feel numb in his fingers and was growing worried that he’d drop his glass of wine. His face was also growing a bit numb, and he was sure his cheeks were red from the cold.
Still, a certain warmth filled his body.
Conversation with Ren Meguro came easy after a glass of wine and delicious food. It wasn’t awkward or tense. They had been friends before they were lovers once upon a time, after all. They knew how to converse like normal people. Their dinner had been filled with stories of their mutual friends, mostly, and a few involving Moko-chan, who was away at her grandparents’ house for the night.
Shota didn’t dare touch anything about work, though. His work was uneventful, and Ren Meguro’s was too eventful. Bringing it up would come with baggage from the past.
So when there was nothing else to talk about, they cleared the table and finally stepped out onto the balcony. It must have been around twenty minutes that they’d been out here if Shota had to guess. They’d said nothing, only staring out at the city that lay below them and sipping on their wine.
This was something that they used to do, as friends and lovers. Ren Meguro had always appreciated taking some time to just sit like this and contemplate. Even now, looking at him, Shota could see him deep in thought, looking beyond the city and up at the sky. The stars were hardly visible with so much light pollution around them, but they both knew that they were up there in the sky somewhere.
And somewhere in there—in the body of the man sitting beside him, in the blinding flash of light that was the Ren Meguro of today—was someone Shota used to love. Someone he still loved.
“Ah,” Shota let out when he almost dropped his glass.
He switched the hand he was holding the glass with, flexing out his fingers to get some feeling back, and then took a sip of the slightly sweet wine. It did little to warm him up, though. He should’ve brought a thicker sweater.
“Shall we go inside now?” Ren Meguro asked, standing up.
Once inside, they settled down in the living room. Shota sat on the couch, and Ren Meguro took one of the armchairs, reaching for a remote and turning on the TV. He let whatever was on play and turned to Shota.
“Thank you, Shoppi, for joining me for dinner,” he said. “Like I said, none of this”—he motioned to the room—“would be possible if I didn’t have people like you believing in me when I was just getting started.”
It was sincere. Shota felt like he was going to be sick.
Ren Meguro was rich and famous, and so successful that he would go down as one of Japan’s best actors, to be talked about long after he retired. He had a beautiful home, and one day, he wouldn’t be alone in it. He had moved on, clearly. In the four years since they’d broken up, Ren Meguro had other people he had liked enough to open up himself to.
Shota was never one for celebrity gossip, so half of the stuff that he heard about Ren Meguro’s private life was easily written off as nothing but talk, but there were things he knew for certain. One confirmed relationship two years ago with a female co-star, though they’d quietly broken it off after some time. And then there were several apparent flings during his time in the US, with men and women alike—and Shota knew of these because Koji was hardly able to keep his voice down when he’d told Hikaru about it on a night out drinking earlier this year.
It’d been ridiculous to think that this could ever mean something more to Ren Meguro. This truly was just a dinner to say thank you to Shota. He had said “people like him”, meaning that Shota wasn’t the only one. Who else had he treated to dinner since returning to Japan as a way of saying thanks for believing in him? Hikaru, probably; Daisuke, maybe. They’d also been teachers for him long ago.
Shota bit down on the inside of his cheek to not let out the sarcastic huff that wanted to come out. After a moment, he smiled as best as he could. “Of course, Meguro. As your teacher and senior, I’m happy to see you’ve achieved what you set out to do.”
Ren Meguro paused, his expression twisting into one of displeasure. “That’s…” He ran a hand through his hair as he breathed deeply. “That’s the first time you’ve said my name tonight.”
“Is it?” Shota asked, even though he knew it was.
“Shoppi,” Ren Meguro said, scooting to the edge of the armchair. In his glass, the wine sloshed around, but he seemed to pay it no mind. Shota’s eyes flicked from the glass and back to his face just in time to see him lick his lips. “Shoppi, can you just—just this one time—say my name? The way you used to.”
“Meguro?”
He knew it wasn’t what he wanted, but he wouldn’t give in to this request. That was a line he wasn’t going to cross, especially not after they’d been drinking. Shota still had a hold on his sensibilities, in between being a little buzzed and tipsy, but one wrong step could have him tumbling down.
“Shota—”
“Why should I?” Shota asked, standing up. He set his glass on one of the coasters on the coffee table and began to move. He had to leave now. His legs felt wobbly, but not because of the alcohol. It was sheer panic that had him trembling. “Meguro, I thank you for the lovely dinner. It’s late and I have work tomorrow, so I should go.”
A warm hand caught him by the wrist as he passed by, and before Shota could pull himself out of Ren Meguro’s grasp, he was already standing and pulling Shota back. “Wait,” he said quietly. As if realizing his overstep, he quickly let go of Shota’s wrist and took a step back, turning away in embarrassment. “Please don’t go yet. I’m sorry.”
“It’s late,” Shota repeated.
He was breathing hard now, and his heart was thumping in his chest. He was sure his face was as red as Ren Meguro’s. He didn’t dare turn back to face him.
Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to be up to him.
Ren Meguro’s hand came up to his face, resting on his cheek. It was warm—too warm. And before Shota could slap his hand away, his face was being turned. All he could do was let out a quiet gasp that was quickly swallowed by Ren Meguro as he leaned in to kiss him.
Shota found that the taste of the Riesling was much sweeter on Ren Meguro’s lips.
🙤❦🙦
Ren Meguro on the Topic of Love!
#5: Could you ever kiss someone you don’t love?
I’m an actor, so I can definitely do it! My first kiss scene was awkward since I didn’t have experience, but after doing so many since then, it’s just like any other kind of acting. It’s work, so I never felt anything particular about it. But kissing someone you love… that’s so different, right? There’s that warm and sweet feeling that comes with it! Since a kiss conveys someone’s love without saying anything. I can’t say I’ve kissed anyone I love recently, but like anyone else, I’d like to. When I can’t find the words, I want to sincerely convey my feelings with a kiss.
#6: What if they don’t understand your feelings after a kiss?
They have to!
🙤❦🙦
It was safe to say that Shota was not being discreet about anything at work. Since that night, Daisuke had been pestering him about it, asking what happened. He was halfway to convincing Hikaru to ask his own questions, if only because Shota would definitely give him an answer and then Daisuke would shut up about it.
“Absolutely nothing happened,” Shota repeated for what had to be the thousandth time. “I’m trying to leave for the weekend. Please don’t hold me hostage here.”
“You gotta tell us!”
“Who is ‘us’?” Hikaru asked, the frown on his face deepening. “I don’t care to know whatever Shoppi got up to on his date. Are you some kind of pervert, Sakuma?”
Shota snapped. “Exactly!” he exclaimed. He looked at Daisuke. “That stuff is private.”
Daisuke let out a wordless shout before pointing at Shota accusingly. “Well, you definitely didn’t have sex ‘cause that stick is still so far up your ass!”
Shota gaped at him in horror. What kind of grown man said that kind of shit out loud?
“What the hell is actually wrong with you?!”
To make it worse, Hikaru nodded from beside Daisuke. He held up a finger and pointed at Daisuke. “Now that… That much is true. I’m sorry, Shoppi. It’s just so obvious that didn’t happen.”
“So then, did you just”—Daisuke made some inappropriate hand gestures—“or something to that effect?”
Shota huffed, turning away. “No, we just…” He cleared his throat and, in the quietest voice he could, said, “Kissed.”
“You what?” Daisuke asked loudly, his eyes wild.
“Kissed,” Shota murmured, his eyes looking anywhere but the two people in front of him.
“You what?” Daisuke repeated, cupping a hand by his ear.
Hikaru seemed to have heard because he let out a small laugh and there was a sudden playful glint in his eyes. It was a silent promise that he would tease Shota about it later when they were alone. He crossed his arms and shook his head. Nudging Daisuke, he said, “Come on, we have a class starting soon.”
Daisuke left without a complaint, but after they crossed the threshold of the door, he came running back to grab Shota by the shoulders and shake him. It seemed Hikaru wouldn’t keep this secret for Shota.
“All you did was kiss? Ugh, that’s not juicy at all!”
🙤❦🙦
25 NOV 2026, 20:44 Iwamoto-kun🙤❦🙦
24 NOV 2026, 17:59 Sakuma🙤❦🙦
December was a quiet month. Most students stopped their lessons for the holiday season. Only those who needed it or really wanted it continued as usual. Naturally, Shota had more free time in between those lessons. He mostly used it to browse the internet for gifts to give his niece and nephew for Christmas, even though his sister had insisted not to indulge their requests again this year. His nephew was just over a year old, so he would like just about any toy Shota bought. His niece, however, was just like her mother and had strong opinions.
He had asked his sister for a list of what his niece liked the other day, and today he’d begun to look up the names of characters and children’s series, trying to familiarize himself with them. Maybe he could ask Daisuke’s niece what was good. She was a few years older than Shota’s niece, but she had to still be in the know about what was popular with kids, right?
He was scrolling through his fourth page on Amazon, snacking on some fruit he’d bought at the convenience store earlier, when there was a knock on his door. He looked at his watch, wondering if he’d wasted so much time that it was already time for his next lesson. But he still had an hour to go.
“Come in,” he called out.
The door squeaked open on its hinges and Fukka popped his head in. “Yo, Shoppi!”
“Hey!” Shoppi closed his laptop and motioned for him to come in. “I haven’t seen you in forever.”
Fukka blew a raspberry and waved him off. “Please, we just saw each other!” He blinked a few times as he thought about it. “Well, in October.”
“What brings you here?”
“Hikaru forgot his keycard for the building, and I’m not going to be home until late, so I came to drop it off. Wouldn’t want him to be locked out, right?” he said. He took a seat on the piano bench, curiously looking at the keys before slowly pressing down on one, the note ringing out into the small room. “Since I have some time before I have to go, I thought I’d stop by and see how you’ve been.”
Shota narrowed his eyes. “That’s suspicious.”
Fukka pressed down on another key. It sounded a little ominous. “It’s suspicious to want to see how my friend is doing?”
Yeah, if it’s you.” Shota propped his chin on his hand, placing his elbow on the table to hold him up. “So what do you really want?”
“A little birdie told me you went on a date”—Fukka smashed down on a bunch of keys this time, a horrendous sound coming out of the piano—“with none other than Meme!”
Shota sat up straight, his hand smacking down on the tabletop. “He told you?!”
Fukka groaned. “Oh, come on, of course Hikaru told me! He tells me everything!”
“What?”
At Shota’s confusion, Fukka suddenly pursed his lips. He carefully let down the fallboard and smoothed down the front of his thick sweater. “Okay, Shota, when I said a little birdie, who exactly came to mind?”
His voice was calm and level.
“Was it not Ren Meguro?”
Fukka clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Dear me, this is even worse than I thought.” He tilted his head to one side. “Do you think Meme and I talk often?”
“You mean you don’t?”
All Shota got in response was a shake of Fukka’s head. He hummed, picking at his nails. “Well, I mean, I do send him messages at the start of the year and on his birthday, so I suppose yes, I talk to him, but it hardly counts. Hikaru’s the one who talks to him, like every other day, actually.”
Of course, Shota thought. If there was anyone Ren Meguro was extremely fond of, it was Hikaru. Back when he’d first started taking lessons, Hikaru had been quick to take Ren Meguro under his wing, his big brother instincts jumping into gear. Hikaru may have been the teacher, but to Ren Meguro, he was more like a brother. And a decade-long relationship full of admiration like that wasn’t something that crumbled so easily.
“Anyway, I was told that Meme told Hikaru ‘all of it’—whatever ‘all of it’ is—and when you spilled the beans that you’d kissed, Hikaru told me that you went over to his place.” Fukka stopped picking at his nails and looked up at Shota. “So, tell me, since when are you and Meme back?”
“We’re not,” Shota answered.
“Hikaru wouldn’t say what ‘all of it’ is, so you don’t have to worry about me saying anything. Not that I would, by the way!” Fukka tapped his fingers on the fallboard before he leaned on it. “Whatever it is, it’s between you, Meme, and Hikaru.”
“Don’t lean on that.”
“Don’t change the subject,” Fukka said, but he obliged, sitting up straight on the bench. “I’m on good terms with both of you, so I don’t want to see anyone hurt.”
Shota clicked his tongue. “Hardly,” he teased. But his smile disappeared just as quickly as it’d come. “It was nothing, Fukka. We’d been talking about the past and drinking. It was something like that.”
At least that was what Shota was trying to convince himself of.
Fukka shook his head again, clearly not believing him for a second. “Meme isn’t the kind to kiss people, no matter how drunk he gets. You know that.” He crossed his legs and clasped his hands together over his knees. “So?”
Shota sighed, looking down at the tabletop. He began to trace out some shapes with the tip of his index finger, and after a moment, he found himself writing out Ren Meguro’s name. “Fukka,” he finally said, his voice quiet, “do you know how we broke up?”
“I don’t,” was the answer he got. “Hikaru doesn’t know either. Meme stopped replying to him, no matter how many messages Hikaru sent. It took months for him to even get a ‘hi’ back. Since then, all he’s found out is that Meme lied to you.”
It almost made Shota scoff.
Ren Meguro was such a good person that even when he’d gotten his heart broken, he never considered revealing the cruel words that Shota had said to him to their mutual friends. Because if they had found out, they would’ve never looked at Shota the same. And unlike Ren Meguro, Shota needed them more than they needed him; losing them and Ren Meguro would be nothing short of a death sentence. And it was like he knew that.
After the breakup, Ren Meguro immediately limited contact with them, enough that it was believed that it was he who had called it quits, leaving everyone to console Shota, misconstruing Ren Meguro’s radio silence as an admission of fault and guilt. Without his group of friends, Shota never would’ve made it out of his wallowing.
It had taken the better part of a year for everyone to stop seeing Ren Meguro in a bad light.
How foolish was Ren Meguro that he willingly gave up his group of friends to make them take his ex-boyfriend’s side? What kind of final selfless act was that?
“What did he say, Shota?”
Fukka sounded serious now.
Shota stayed silent, continuing to write out the characters for Ren Meguro’s name.
Ren. Me. Guro.
Again. Ren. Me. Guro.
Again. Ren. Me. Guro.
And then just: Ren.
“All he ever said to me was that it would be different, but it never was. I suppose he wasn’t wrong if he said he lied to me,” Shota finally said. He kept quiet because if he spoke any louder, he was sure he’d cry. “So I broke up with him.”
A sympathetic expression crossed Fukka’s face. He reached out, placing his hand over Shota’s, stopping him from writing that same character over and over again.
“Or more like, I made him break up with me.”
🙤❦🙦
“silent” Episode 1 Air Date: October 6, 2022 … Tsumugi reaches for Sou’s hands. She laughs nervously.TSUMUGI AOBA
Wait, hold on.
Sou shakes her off. Tears well in his eyes.SOU SAKURA
(signing)Now you know why I couldn’t call you and why we broke up, right? I didn’t want to speak to you anymore. One day we wouldn’t be able to have calls. We wouldn’t be able to listen to music together. I wouldn’t even be able to hear your voice. Staying together while knowing all that was too painful.
He chokes back sobs.I loved you and that’s why I didn’t want us to meet. I wanted you to hate me. I wanted you to forget about me.
🙤❦🙦
Ren Meguro’s message came two nights before Christmas.
Are you busy this week?
Shota answered that he wasn’t, but also admitted that he wasn’t looking to make plans with anyone. He had the next couple weeks off, and he was going to use it to his full advantage. Sleep, eat, watch TV. Rinse and repeat epeat.
Besides, it was freezing outside. No one in their right mind should be out.
It hadn’t snowed in Tokyo yet, but it had been windy in recent days, and the skies were beginning to get foggy and gray. Just the other day, on Shota’s final day before his break, the wind had been unbearable, whipping at his face and leaving his cheeks red and aching even with his thickest scarf and beanie. The thought of stepping out and facing that again was totally unappealing.
Also, it was nearing Christmas. Leaving the comfort of his apartment meant he would have to see happy couples walking around, and Ren Meguro was the last person Shota wanted to be with in that kind of crowd.
He huffed under his breath, amused, as he continued to scroll through Netflix in hopes of finding something half-decent to mindlessly watch for the next five hours. He stopped at a familiar drama. Of course, it was Ren Meguro’s face that appeared on the screen, and pictured beside him was Haruna Kawaguchi.
“When did this get added?” he asked out loud.
It aired around four years ago now, a couple months after they had already broken up. Shota remembered the announcement being made the same week he had moved out of the apartment and how all the promotions that had been plastered all over Tokyo and social media haunted him as he got used to his new routines living elsewhere.
He had still been going through every possible emotion when it was airing, but not even that had stopped him. He had tuned in to every episode in spite of himself. But he realized he couldn’t remember much of it.
The first episode began to play, and Shota made himself comfortable on the couch, pulling his blanket tighter around himself.
🙤❦🙦
INCOMING
Shoppi – 23/12/2026
0:31
When you were filming silent... That scene, the scene right at the end of the first episode, the one outside the station… Say, what did you think about to cry like that?
🙤❦🙦
The tears had just begun to dry when Shota’s phone began to ring. He picked it up, already knowing who it was. He sniffled as he placed the phone to his ear.
“Are you crying?” Ren Meguro asked seriously.
“I am,” Shota said. There was no point in hiding it. “I mean, I was. I’m not anymore.”
A long pause. “Why?”
“I’m watching silent again.” Shota sniffled again before he crumpled up the tissue in his hand. “So, are you going to answer my question?”
“Only if I can see you right now. At this very moment.”
Shota laughed, all watery and gross. “That’s hardly a fair trade off, Ren Meguro.”
“The answer is worth it,” Ren Meguro said. “I promise.”
“All right, but only if you can get here in half an hour. Otherwise, I’m not letting you up.” Shota closed his fingers around the used tissue even tighter. “I’ll send you the address.”
🙤❦🙦
It took Ren Meguro twenty-nine minutes and forty-seven seconds to arrive.
When Shota opened his door, Ren Meguro was huffing and puffing, red in the face, and small drops of sweat dotting the sides of his face. Had he fucking ran all the way here?
“Well, aren’t you a sight?” Shota asked, opening the door enough to let him in. He closed it firmly once Ren Meguro was inside and shedding his heavy coat. He was wearing a thick sweater underneath. If he really had ran over, it was no wonder he was in such a state. “Come on. I’ll get you a glass of water.”
Ren Meguro, he decided, looked out of place in Shota’s humble apartment. Unlike the expensive matching living room set in Ren Meguro’s apartment, Shota had a combination of different textiles and colors. Admittedly, everything still went together nicely since he had purposely picked everything to match in one way or another, but it wasn’t anything out of an interior design magazine.
“Here,” Shota said as he offered the glass of water. He sat beside Ren Meguro on the couch, keeping some space between them. “Take your time.”
He gave Ren Meguro a moment to drink, looking at the TV where episode two of the drama was paused. Shota’s eyes flitted to the shelves on each side of the TV to see if anything unsightly was set out, and he was thankful that he had half a mind to keep all his Ren Meguro paraphernalia hidden in the storage below.
When Ren Meguro set the glass down, it was half empty. Shota looked at it and then at him.
“So?” he asked.
Ren Meguro motioned to the space between them. “Can I?”
“Is it necessary?”
He got a nod in response. Shota cleared his throat and motioned for him to come closer. He had a growing suspicion of what would happen next.
The couch dipped as Ren Meguro scooted closer, enough that their thighs were nearly pressing together. He placed a hand behind Shota, and that too dipped with the weight, and then he leaned in. The other came up to caress Shota’s face. This close, Shota could smell whatever cologne Ren Meguro was wearing. He never used to wear any at all.
“I don’t remember what lie I told when they asked me about it, but”—Ren Meguro exhaled, his hot breath fanning across the side of Shota’s face, the smell of mint invading his nose—“the truth is, I thought of you. Shota.”
This time, it was Shota who pressed their lips together.
He turned his body to face Ren Meguro, pressing his hands against his firm chest, feeling just how strong Ren Meguro had become. His fingers curled around the knit fabric of his sweater as Ren Meguro’s hand, the one that had been resting behind Shota, came up to rest on the small of his back. If it stretched out as a result, Shota would apologize and offer Ren Meguro an entire month’s pay to replace what had to be luxury brand knitwear.
With the hand on Shota’s back, Ren Meguro brought him closer, closer, closer, until Shota was practically sitting on his lap. The hand on Shota’s face moved to his neck, fingers playing with the hair at his nape, making Shota break away to let out a small, surprised whine.
And now that they weren’t kissing, the situation was beginning to hit Shota. He let go of Ren Meguro’s sweater, placing his palms flat on his chest, but this time to try and push him away. “Meguro, this is—”
“Ren,” Ren Meguro said softly. He continued to play with the hair at Shota’s nape. “Call me Ren. Like you used to.”
Shota couldn’t give in to this request. Kissing Ren Meguro for a second time was already far across the line. There’d be no going back if he gave in to all of this.
Ren Meguro leaned in, his lips ghosting Shota’s jaw. “Shoppi,” he murmured, pressing his lips against his skin. “If this, right here, right now, is… if it’s okay with you, it’s okay with me.”
Shota inhaled sharply, and once again, his fingers tightened around Ren Meguro’s sweater. “Is that so?” he asked, his voice just above a whisper. He closed his eyes as Ren Meguro kissed his jaw again, more deliberately this time. He felt the vibration of him humming against his skin. “Is it really okay… Ren?”
🙤❦🙦
mimi 🌸 @megurorenlover · 7h found a random scan earlier and this question got me. can’t tell the mag but i think it’s from 2019. anyway, cutie meme! Q: What would you want your future wife to call you? A: Whatever she wants! 🖤
shana ♡ rau @rauIisms
from the pic, that’s def from 2019! i would say maybe april. can’t remember the magazine either LOL but the next year he changed up his answer when he was asked by a different mag. iirc he said he wanted to be called ren 🥹
yuri @megurochuu
i totally remember the switch up!!!! he was like “when u like sum1 it’s hard to say firstnames/nicknames. but it's odd for ur crush to call u by full/family name after u become close friends or start 2 date. if it’s like that, i want them to just call me ren even if it’s only 1x”
yuri @megurochuu
a lot of ppl thought he got a gf around that time and that she did that to him bc his actual answer was a little too specific LMAO
🙤❦🙦
“Ren,” Shota whined, his fingernails digging into Ren’s shoulders, grabbing at the knit of his sweater. He gasped as Ren swiped his thumb over the head of his cock. “Ah, ah, that’s too—!”
“C’mon, Shoppi,” Ren encouraged, his voice gruff. “Come.”
“I, I can’t anymore!” Shota exclaimed.
He let out a high, breathy sound as his back arched and his toes curled. Despite his words, he came for the third time that night.
Dazed and seeing white, he closed his eyes, gasping for air. Ren continued to stroke his cock, the sound accompanying their heavy breathing. Shota steadied himself using Ren’s shoulders, his hands holding on for dear life, and let himself sit back on his lap. He was trembling from pure pleasure, and there was an odd sensation in his thighs, making his legs feel like jelly. He leaned in and pressed his forehead against Ren’s clavicle.
“Cute,” Ren said shamelessly.
Shota’s heart fluttered, and a warm feeling spread across his body.
“You desecrated my poor couch,” Shota muttered into the knit, deciding it was better to ignore Ren’s comment. “How is anyone supposed to sit here anymore?”
A soft kiss was pressed to the crown of his head, and Ren placed his hands on Shota’s waist, his thumbs sneaking under the hem of Shota’s shirt and gently pressing into his skin. “You did that, Shoppi.”
Shota huffed, sitting up to look Ren in the eye. He knew his face was red with embarrassment, but he had to say it: “Well, I didn’t make myself come!”
Both surprisingly and unsurprisingly, crossing lines for Ren was too easy. What started as a kiss turned into feeling each other up, and that turned into Ren getting Shota off three times. Between them, Shota’s come stuck to the fronts of their tops.
“This is so freaking disgusting,” Shota groaned.
He tried to get up from where he was straddling Ren, his fingers wrapping around Ren’s wrist and peeling his hands off his body. As he removed himself from Ren’s lap, he found that his knees were aching too, having been pressed into the couch for the better part of an hour now.
“I’m too old for this,” he muttered as he found his footing on the floor. He tugged up his joggers, cringing at the wet feeling. “I’m going to wash up.”
“What about me?”
Shota turned, looking at Ren, still sitting on the couch. He made no move to stand or even begin to wipe Shota’s come off his sweater with a tissue from the box on the coffee table. Raising an eyebrow, Shota scoffed. “What about you?”
“What am I supposed to do?”
It wasn’t awkward even after what they’d done, but depending on what Shota did next, it could quickly shift in that direction. They weren’t strangers having a one-night stand, so there was no need to shove Ren out the door, but they also weren’t more than that. In the past, Shota would’ve pulled Ren along and gotten on his knees to return the favor in the bathroom. But this wasn’t the past.
All they were were exes having sex. Just one off ex sex.
“Here, take off your sweater. And, uh, you can wash up after me.”
“All right.”
Ren pulled his sweater off and handed it to Shota, who carefully read the wash instructions and followed them down to the tee. He could only hope he hadn’t ruined it too badly and that his washer wouldn’t further destroy it, but again, he would offer Ren his paycheck if he had to to make up for it.
He stepped into the bathroom and closed the door firmly behind him. He reached over to the knobs and twisted one, sending water immediately spraying out of the shower head and onto the bathroom tile. He placed his hand under the stream, palm up, and let the water pool in his cupped hand. With a sigh, he shook his hand off and stepped away.
As he waited for the water to heat up some more, he turned to the mirror that was built into the wall, finding it already littered with water droplets. He wiped his hand over to see himself. He turned his head this way and that, trying to see if Ren had left anything incriminating there. He had kissed all over Shota’s neck at some point, but after some more thorough inspection, he seemed to be without any visible marks.
When he noticed the mirror beginning to fog at the edges, he pulled his shirt off and tugged his joggers down, finally stepping under the hot water. He sighed in relief as it hit his back. As good as it felt, he had gotten tense towards the end of it, with Ren’s incessant teasing that didn’t allow him to come. It had been push and pull, driving Shota to the edge of his sanity.
Ren had never been one for overstimulation before. What kind of shit did they teach him in the US? The possibilities made him shiver.
There was a knock on the door, and Ren’s muffled voice over the water came after: “Shoppi, have you eaten?”
“No,” Shota replied, reaching for one of the bottles he had on the ledge jutting out from the wall and pouring a small dollop of his shampoo onto his palm. “I don’t have much in the fridge to make anything. I can order something when I’m done.”
“Like what?” Ren asked, his voice louder.
Shota closed his eyes and hummed, thinking about it as he massaged the product into his scalp. “We can decide after.”
Then, Shota heard the door open. He opened his eyes, surprised, but immediately got shampoo in his eyes. He cried out, cupping his hands together to gather some water to splash over his eyes. As he did so, he felt someone come up behind him, the warmth of their body all over his back. Two arms wrapped around him from behind, large hands coming up to grab his chest.
“Ah!” Shota whined, wincing as Ren’s thumb brushed over his nipple.
With his back against Ren’s front, he realized Ren was still in his clothes. Quickly, he shrugged off Ren’s hands and turned, placing his palms on the now wet T-shirt. It was white, which meant that Shota had a view of what was hidden underneath the fabric.
“Take it off,” he said, his hands moving down to the hem and tugging up. “All of it. Hurry. You’ll get sick wearing wet clothes.”
Ren wordlessly obliged, pulling his shirt over his head and his pants down. He stepped out of them and kicked them to the side with his shirt, where they’d definitely get soaked by the water. But he didn’t seem to care.
Instead, he reached for Shota’s waist, holding him in place. In response, Shota wrapped his arms around Ren’s shoulders loosely, one of his hands coming up to comb through the hair on the back of Ren’s head.
“How’re your eyes?” Ren leaned in to get a good look at Shota, who only shied away. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I would’ve waited if I knew you were in the middle of shampooing.”
“I’m fine,” Shota said. His eyes were still stinging. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Is this okay?”
Shota snorted. “You’re asking that now?” he joked. He hummed, studying Ren’s sincere expression. Shota slowly brought one of his arms back, letting his hand snake its way down from Ren’s shoulder down to his chest. He felt Ren shiver under his touch and heard the pleased hum deep in the back of his throat. He thumbed over his nipple, amused by how Ren tried not to flinch away. “If it’s okay with me, it’s okay with you, right?”
Ren smiled. “Right,” he said.
“Tell me if you want me to stop,” Shota said, already distracted by the smooth expanse of Ren’s chest.
He leaned in, sticking his tongue out and licking a stripe over his clavicle, swallowing the water from the shower as he began to suck at his skin. He pinched Ren’s nipple, feeling Ren stumble back a little as he let out a small gasp.
“Mmm,” Shota hummed, finally pulling back. Rivulets of water began to run down Ren’s chest once more as Shota admired his handiwork with a small pout. He brought his hand up, delicately touching the reddened spot where a small bruise was sure to form later. With it being winter, it would easily be covered with clothes. “Is that okay?”
Back then, Ren had never let Shota do anything like this, not even in the places no one but Shota would be able to see. It wasn’t like he got shirtless often, but in between changes, he supposed there were a few people that would see him without his top on. Shota had understood it was something that could put Ren in trouble, so he had never crossed that boundary. But now…
“It’s fine,” Ren murmured, pressing his forehead against Shota’s, the water dripping from the hair between them. His hold on Shota’s grip tightened, enough that he was sure he’d also bruise later on. “I’m yours to have anyway you want… Shota.”
🙤❦🙦
File Name: The Midnight Ikemen Show, Season 6, Ren Meguro
Duration: 0:24:32
Air Date: 30/07/2026
[0:05:53]
MAKI:
Touches can vary in feeling, right? Especially in romantic relationships. However, some people also don’t like to be touched, even by their partners.
FIRST SUMMER UIKA:
That’s right! But they might like to touch in return.
MAKI:
Oh, that’s true! What do you think, Ren? Is there one you prefer?
REN MEGURO:
Being the one to initiate is all right with me but… doesn’t it also feel good when your lover touches you in ways you like?
MAKI:
By any chance, are you not a virgin anymore?
FIRST SUMMER UIKA:
Ren’s almost thirty! He’s had time to become a man. Isn’t that right?
REN MEGURO:
[laughs]
🙤❦🙦
“Does it feel good?”
Ren was biting down on his bottom lip so hard that Shota was worried he’d draw blood if he pushed him any further. The teasing, as fun as Shota found it, had a limit. Ren was clearly spent, the sweat beginning to gather near his belly button, and his breathing was erratic, the rhythm of the rise and fall of his chest much quicker than Shota thought it’d be. He was heated all over, with splotchy blooms of red on his cheeks, neck, and chest.
Shota looked down at his hands. He had one on Ren’s inner thigh, littered with marks and bites, to keep Ren from trying to close his legs like he had earlier. Not that he could anyway with the way Shota was situated now, having hooked Ren’s legs around his waist and telling him to keep it that way. And Shota’s other hand was… also preoccupied.
He’d been worried about his nails. Even though he trimmed and filed them neatly every other day, he could still hurt Ren if he was too rough. So he had been mindful to take it slow. Ren deserved pleasure, not pain.
Shota hadn’t known who Ren had become since they’d broken up or if his preferences remained the same, so everything was an assessment. The results were pleasing, to say the least. At the start, once Ren had gotten used to the feeling, Shota curled his finger a little and dragged the pad of his finger over the muscle inside, earning himself some gasps of surprise and then delight. With two fingers, Shota had slowly worked the muscle with some slow scissoring, and it had Ren whining.
It been a while of working him up now. It was about time to let him have that sweet release.
Despite a light ache in his back as he moved, Shota leaned in as best as he could, never stopping the movement or slowing the rhythm to which his fingers thrust into Ren, and opened his mouth, taking in the head of his cock. He pushed down on Ren’s inner thigh to get a better position, slowly rising from where he’d been sitting on his heels.
He hummed as the precome mixed with his saliva. He felt both Ren’s precome and saliva begin to spill out of the corner of his mouth, dripping down from his chin and onto the coarse, dark hair at Ren’s navel. It only encouraged Shota to do more, and he leaned in more, feeling the stretch at the corners of his mouth. Flicking his eyes up to the head of the bed, Shota saw Ren hiding his face behind one hand, eyes closed and mouth falling open in a silent moan, and the other grabbing a fistful of the bed sheet.
It had been a while for Shota, so once Ren’s cock was far enough to trigger his gag reflex, he tried to relax as best he could and attempted to swallow down on nothing, and it brought out a soft moan from Ren’s mouth.
“Uhhn, Shoppi,” he whined breathlessly.
Shota pulled away with a cough, his drool spilling out of his mouth. He sat back on his heels and removed his hand from Ren’s thigh to wipe his mouth.
“C’mon, Ren,” Shota encouraged, just like Ren had done to him earlier. He reached over and wrapped his thin fingers around Ren’s cock, using his own spit to help jerk him off. “Come.”
With Shota’s fingers still in him and a hand around his cock following the same rhythm, Ren’s back arched off the bed, and there was a sudden tightness around Shota’s fingers. The legs wrapped around Shota’s waist also tightened, with the heels of Ren’s feet pressing into Shota’s back. After a couple of seconds, Ren was coming, all over his own stomach, cries and whines slipping past his lips. Some of it got on Shota’s fingers, but it didn’t stop him from helping Ren through the ride.
“Shoppi,” Ren cried, both his hands hiding his face.
Shota noticed just how much Ren’s thighs were trembling, feeling the spasms of his muscles in the places their skin touched. Carefully, he removed his fingers from Ren, wiping them on the bed sheet. He let go of Ren’s half-hard cock and brought his hand up to his mouth, licking up the side of it and gathering Ren’s come on his tongue. He swallowed it, finding that it tasted of nothing in particular, maybe just a little sweet.
Finally, he untangled himself from Ren’s legs and crawled up to lay beside him. He propped himself up on his elbow, his chin on the palm of his hand, and waited. But it was clear Ren was going to hide himself until Shota forced him to reveal himself.
Carefully, Shota pried the hands off Ren’s face, finding him flushed with streaks of tears on his cheeks. Cupping his face, Shota used the pad of his thumb to wipe the drying tears from one of his cheeks. “Did it feel good?” he asked.
Ren only nodded, leaning into Shota’s touch. He was pouty, and Shota found it ridiculously cute.
He leaned in, hoping to kiss the pout off Ren’s lips. Pulling away to take a breath, he whispered against Ren’s lips: “Ren Meguro, you drive me absolutely crazy.”
🙤❦🙦
shana ♡ rau @rauIisms · 2m anyone else have a sneaking suspicion that meme will leave japan again after his movie airs or am i actually off my rockershana ♡ rau @rauIisms
I MEAN IM DOWN FOR MORE MEME IN LA PLS BUT ONLY IF HE TAKES RAUL WITH HIM THIS TIME. MEMERAU DROUGHT WAS CRAZY LAST YEAR, I NEED THE BESTIES TO STAY TOGETHER AHHHH 😭😭😭
yuri @megurochuu
most sane memerau friendship enjoyer
LINA @_rauluar_
Raul mentioned the possibility of having some future projects in LA in his latest IG live so it’s possible (^^)
🙤❦🙦
“Shoppi,” Ren murmured. “Shota.”
The sound of his name coming from Ren’s lips warmed him.
“Hm?” Shota raised his head from the pillow, looking towards Ren. In the dark, all he could make out was a faint silhouette. “I’m awake. What is it?”
Suddenly, there was a hand in Shota’s hair, fingers carding through his hair. He smiled, a familiar feeling bubbling in his chest. But it faded when nothing else came.
“Ren?” he asked.
“Can I stay here with you?” Ren’s voice came in a whisper. “Just until Christmas night?”
It was already the 24th. There were no special plans. It made no difference to someone like Shota.
“Sure,” he answered. He reached out, feeling around until he found Ren’s face. He tucked some hair behind his ear. Ren sighed at this. Even quieter, Shota whispered, “You can stay as long as you want.”
🙤❦🙦
It was around noon when Shota woke up, blinking blearily at his ceiling. Beside him, Ren was still sleeping, his breaths even with the occasional exhale through his nose.
Shota turned onto his side, reaching over to run his fingers through Ren’s hair.
Now that he was in a clearer state of mind, he was beginning to realize how big of a mistake this entire thing was.
Letting Ren back into his life had been easy, especially physically, but while it felt good now, it would only result in hurt. The same hurt that had accompanied Shota for four years; the one he had decided he wanted to overcome just a few months ago. Fooling around like this wouldn’t bring him the closure he needed. It would only help plant pathetic seeds of hope in his mind. It was idiotic to hope that Ren’s words from back then—the ones that promised it would be different—would finally ring true.
At the end of the day, he knew it would all be for naught because Ren’s choice would remain the same. And Shota wouldn’t ask him to choose otherwise once more.
Shota could admit to himself why he had let Ren in so easily. It was simply because he missed him. There was always going to be love for Ren Meguro in Shota’s heart. And an opportunity to bask in the familiarity of what used to be their relationship was one he would never pass up, no matter how much he’d initially resist.
Maybe Daisuke was right with what he’d said that time: there was no one else but Ren for him.
It would never matter how much Ren changed. He would always be the Ren Shota loved dearly.
As for why Ren sought Shota out in the first place, Shota couldn’t begin to guess. Perhaps he wanted someone to cling to upon returning to Japan. Shota was the perfect target for that, wasn’t he? Like an abandoned loyal dog, he would always be waiting for the slightest possibility of Ren’s return to his life. And he was beginning to realize that no matter the hurt Ren inflicted on him, purposefully or not, he would always be ready to overlook it if it meant being at his side once more.
“You have me absolutely crazy,” Shota whispered.
🙤❦🙦
Christmas was uneventful.
Shota wasn’t able to get anything delivered for dinner, and celebratory cakes had been sold out long in advance. There was no hope of going out to try to find one so late. Ren wasn’t too disappointed, setting up in Shota’s kitchen to make them something quick and easy.
He gave Shota instructions for smaller tasks, like cutting up some spring onions. And as he did so, Ren came up from behind him, arms snaking around Shota’s waist and hands sneaking under the hem of Shota’s shirt to rest on his bare stomach. He felt Ren’s chin dig into his shoulder.
It was strange having Ren cling to him. He had always been a bit touchy when they were together, but this was a new level of skinship. Still, Shota didn’t shake him off. Instead, he hummed, pressing his back against Ren’s front. He’d allow himself this much.
“What’s this?” he asked, scraping the chopped spring onion off the cutting board and into a bowl with the knife.
He felt Ren’s nose press against his neck, inhaling. “You smell nice,” he said, his voice muffled.
“Ren…” Finally, Shota shrugged him off and turned in his spot. Ren’s hands rested on his back now. “What’re you doing?”
“Doesn’t this feel like before?” Ren asked with an incredible sense of fondness in his voice. “How old were we back then? I was twenty-five, and you, not yet thirty, but it always felt like we were much younger. We were something, weren’t we?”
“What are you doing?” Shota asked again, his voice firmer this time around. He shoved Ren back, grabbing his forearms to get him to let go. “Stop that.”
He looked at his hands, realizing that he was shaking.
“You”—Shota pointed at Ren and huffed—“I don’t know why you’re doing this. If you want to sleep with me, then fine, I’ll sleep with you. If you want to act like we’re friends, then fine, I can do that too. But I won’t—”
Shota crumbled, slowly getting down on his knees. He was crying. The tears wouldn’t stop, no matter how much he wiped his eyes, and he felt like there was a lump the size of a baseball in his throat, making him choke back sobs. He hid his face in his shaking hands.
Ren Meguro could do anything to Shota. But acting like none of the bad ever happened was the one thing he couldn’t allow.
“Shota,” Ren said, kneeling in front of him and pulling him into a warm embrace. “I’m sorry.”
🙤❦🙦
“Ask me,” Ren said suddenly.
“Ask you what?”
Shota looked at where their fingertips met before he slotted his between the spaces of Ren’s, closing his hand around his. This much was allowed after sleeping with Ren, he thought. He was blissfully fucked out, his earlier tears forgotten. He could worry about it tomorrow. For now, he convinced himself that this much was okay.
Ren hid his face in Shota’s hair, inhaling. Shota was sure he smelled of sex and sweat. They’d have to wash up again.
“The night we broke up, you asked me a question,” Ren said, his lips grazing Shota’s ear. It made Shota bite back a giggle as he flinched away. “Ask me again.”
The question that Shota had asked the night they broke up.
“I couldn’t possibly,” he answered.
“Very well.” Ren kissed his ear. “In exchange, let me stay until the new year.”
🙤❦🙦
mimi 🌸 @megurorenlover · 4d something interesting i noticed… someone who’s supposedly listed as working on the netflix adaptation of the alcott series by m. d. berninger followed meme on insta … from what i heard, filming has already started or is supposed to start next month 👀yuri @megurochuu
he’s actually so naoki coded!!!
🙤❦🙦
Ren had insisted on driving them to Mt. Fuji to see the first sunrise of the new year. Shota had agreed but half-regretted it when he was shaken awake at two in the morning and hustled into a sleek black car. Shota asked no questions about whose car it was, where it’d come from, or where it’d been parked this entire time, choosing to silently take the passenger seat instead. He was ready to doze off for the next couple of hours while Ren drove.
It had been days since Shota had left his apartment and even with his thickest coat on, he could feel the chill down to his bones when Ren opened the driver’s side of the door. Ren’s teeth were chattering and he was rubbing his hands together to warm up once he was in the driver’s seat. Shota noticed his reddened knuckles as he turned the key, the car coming to life.
“You can keep sleeping,” Ren said, fiddling with the touchscreen to fix the heating and turning on some soft music. “I’ll wake you when we get there.”
“All right,” Shota agreed, already closing his eyes.
The car began to move, making a few different turns on fairly quiet streets, and he very quickly lost sense of where they were going and he dared not open his eyes to check.
He had his hands folded over his stomach until Ren reached out, grabbing his left hand and bringing it up to his mouth. His lips were cold against Shota’s knuckles and it made him laugh. Ren smoothed the pad of his thumb over Shota’s knuckles. He didn’t stop and it soothed Shota, lulling him to a half-conscious state.
“I’m sorry,” he heard Ren say after some time, “that I have to leave you again.”
Even half-asleep, Shota was able to process the words.
There it was, he thought. So this was the last time he’d see Ren. At least see him this way. Shota knew he would never completely escape Ren with how much his face was plastered everywhere. It was just different to see him right beside him in the flesh.
At least it would be a happier memory than before. Shota wouldn’t fight it this time.
If it came to it, he would let Ren Meguro go for good.
🙤❦🙦
Shota couldn’t remember the last time he had actually woken up in time to see the first sunrise of the new year.
Maybe it was the year he and Ren broke up. Of course, they hadn’t known it at the time. They had been months away from that dreadful summer night. From how Shota remembered it, it went something like:
He had been miffed that morning, having been woken up too early and dragged out of their comfy bed to make a hike up to a shrine, but Ren’s energy had made up for it, encouraging Shota along the way.
They had seen the sunrise at the bottom of the shrine, amongst a crowd of people doing the same, and silently made the first of their wishes for the new year before climbing up to reach the crowded shrine.
“C’mon, Shoppi,” he’d said, tugging Shota along. “Write down your wish, and then let’s find a spot to hang them. Hurry before all the good places are taken up.”
“Is there such a thing as a good place to hang an ema?”
Ren nudged him in the side. With the hat and mask he was wearing to hide his face from everyone around them, Shota couldn’t make out his expression. But he could guess that he was grinning from the sound of his voice. “Indulge me today, won’t you?”
Shota carefully wrote his wish on the back of the wooden plaque. It was the same wish he had made during the sunrise. Funnily enough, it was the same wish he had made the year before, the year before that, and the year before that one as well.
I wish for Ren Meguro to have great success this year.
Whoever or whatever granted the wishes must’ve taken a liking to Shota since Ren had only grown in the years since he started making that wish. The first year he’d made it was the year Ren got his first real role in a drama. The second year, Ren had gotten offered his first leading role. More projects and opportunities had presented themselves to Ren this past year, and this coming year, Shota knew that everything would begin to fall directly into his lap; Ren would have plenty of choices to choose from. It was the dream that Ren had held on to for so long, finally coming true.
And there was nothing that Shota wanted more than for Ren’s dreams to be realized. Enough that he used his very limited opportunities to wish for it at the start of the year.
He held the plaque tightly, hiding the side with what he’d written, and waited for Ren to finish writing down his own wish. It seemed to be taking him a while, and Shota was growing curious. He tried to peek at Ren’s plaque, only for Ren to move away, tutting disapprovingly.
“Don’t look,” he said. Then he cleared his throat. “What’s the character for ‘proposal’? Does it have six or seven strokes?”
Shota raised a brow in question. “Proposal as in?”
“As in ‘marriage proposal’.” Ren huffed. “Forget it.”
Ren scribbled out whatever he had written and hurriedly wrote something else, but his wish had already been revealed. Shota found it cute and amusing. Was this the wish of a twenty-five year old then? Wasn’t Ren still too young to be seriously considering something like that? Regardless, it was touching.
“Aw, how sweet!” Shota exclaimed, throwing an arm around Ren’s shoulders. And in a softer voice, he asked, “You wanna marry someone like me then?”
“Maybe,” Ren answered teasingly. “I wish I could kiss you right now.”
Shota laughed and then leaned in, quickly pressing his mouth to the front of Ren’s mask. He could almost make out the shape of Ren’s mouth underneath.
“Later,” he promised. He offered his free hand. “Let’s hang these up first.”
Ren was right about there being good spots to hang their ema. He was the one to place them on the rack, side by side, and turning them so that the words that they had written were visible for everyone to see. Together, they stepped back and admired their plaques.
🙤❦🙦
01.01.22
I wish for Ren Meguro to have great success this year.
– Shota Watanabe
1 Jan 2022
I wish for Shota Watanabe to accept my marriage pruposal
I wish to be in a happy relationship with the one I love most for the rest of my life!
– Ren
🙤❦🙦
“This is as close to Mt. Fuji as we’re going to get, it seems,” Ren said, turning off the engine.
Shota looked towards the skyline. The silhouette of Mt. Fuji was dark against the dark blue. There was some yellow and orange beginning to peek over the horizon now too. It wouldn’t be long until they saw the first sun of the new year. All they had to do was wait.
“It’s too cold outside, so let’s stay in here,” Ren muttered. He turned the engine back on and messed with the heating system once more.
The hum of the car easily slipped into the background, and Shota was left with an odd sense of acceptance as he stared straight ahead at Mt. Fuji and the sky behind it.
This morning would be his last with Ren. He made fists of his hands, his nails digging into his palms. The pain was almost soothing now, and it seemed to continue to serve as a decent distraction from thoughts of Ren.
Beside Shota, Ren seemed to be in his own train of thought, hands still on the steering wheel. He was holding it tight, his knuckles having gone white. Was that what Ren did to keep himself from thinking of Shota?
“Ren,” Shota said, licking his lips. “Back then, if one thing had been different—”
“I don’t think it would have made a difference,” Ren answered, his grip on the steering wheel loosening. Then his hands fell off it altogether and into his lap. He looked down at them. “I wanted to marry you.”
Ren said it as if it were the funniest thing he had ever thought of, a small laugh escaping his lips as he tossed his head back against the carseat. Shota felt nothing of it.
“I should have never crossed out that wish that year,” Ren said, his tone more serious this time. He was staring up at the car’s ceiling. “Maybe if I hadn’t, it would’ve come true.”
Shota smiled, but he felt the corners of his mouth droop down on their own. “Yeah, it would’ve been nice,” he whispered. “Sweet, even.”
They sat in silence from then on. And when the sun was beginning to peek out, they got out of the car, leaning on the hood and blowing on their hands to keep warm as they admired the sight before them.
It was beautiful, Shota had to admit. The dark blues of the night before, of the year before, faded and gave way to a landscape of oranges, yellows, and pale reds that represented a new day, a new year. It was like everything around them stood still and only the sun moved, making her way over the horizon, greeting them by kissing their faces with her light and embracing them in her warmth.
With his hands pressed together and his eyes closed, Shota made his wish.
This year, he wouldn’t wish for Ren Meguro to find great success. He was sure that thousands of young women all over the country used their wishes to ask for that. Shota’s contribution wouldn’t make a difference. Besides, Ren no longer needed anyone to wish for him to be successful. He had already achieved what he set out to do all those years ago.
So instead, Shota did the next best thing.
I wish for Ren Meguro’s new dream, whatever it may be, to come true.
It was unconventional, but Shota didn’t care. It was what he wanted.
Beside him, Ren was also silently making his wish, eyes closed and forehead pressed against his clasped hands. He took his time, a serious expression on his face, and it piqued Shota’s interest. When he was done, he let out a wordless shout and pumped a fist in the air, catching the attention of the few people nearby. Shota felt his face grow warm at the sudden attention thrown their way.
Surely they’d recognize Ren Meguro?
It was possible that the fact that he was very famous slipped Ren’s mind because he reached for Shota’s hand without a care in the world. “Ask me what I wished for.”
“If you tell me, it won’t come true.”
“That doesn’t apply here.”
Before Shota could argue, the shout of a young child from somewhere to their right caught their attention. Snow, he had yelled in excitement. It was snowing, the first of the season. How odd, Shota thought, for it to snow on the first day of the year. He had expected the first snowfall to come the week before.
Ren let go of Shota, turning his palm up to gather the flecks of snow. It was useless as all of it melted upon making contact with his warm skin.
“If you won’t ask me what I wished for, then ask me that question again,” Ren said, shaking off his hand and stuffing it into his pocket. “The one from that night. I know the answer now.”
Shota shook his head. “I told you I won’t.”
Ren turned his back to Shota, gazing off into the distance, exhaling deeply. And distant was the sound of his voice as he began to speak.
“How many times did I ask you to wait when we were together? And how much time did you waste, just waiting for me, because I asked you to? Waiting for me to come home, or for me to answer your call or text? All the times I stopped you from berating me, asking you to wait while I came up with excuses for my actions? Even now, I kept you waiting, haven’t I?
I left this place, thinking I could let go of what I felt for you, but not even the California sun can burn away something that has become a permanent part of my being. Even so, I was committed to not coming back. Yet all I could think of was you and how you were here, probably waiting for me—my voice, my face—to appear on the advertisements you pass every day on your way to work or on the TV in the comfort of your living room. I can’t be there when you’re here. You see, it’s all because of you, Shoppi.”
Shota blinked a few times. He let out the breath he didn’t know he had been holding. “What is?”
“Everything,” Ren admitted. He was still facing away from Shota. “From the beginning of my acting career, everything I’ve ever done was so you could see me.”
“I see you,” Shota said. He came up behind Ren, placing his cold hands on his shoulder blades. “I have always seen you.”
There’d never been a time when Ren Meguro had lost Shota’s attention. From the first time they had met—before they were teacher and student, friends, lovers, or exes that slept together; when they were still just two strangers greeting each other for the first time in the lobby of the building—Shota had known that Ren was meant to be someone great.
It was surprising and a little alarming to hear that he was, in fact, the main motivation for Ren Meguro to do his job. Still, Shota couldn’t say he didn’t feel touched. After all, he had purchased most every magazine Ren had graced the cover of and watched most every show and film he had a role in. Even after they called it quits, Shota quietly remained one of Ren’s most loyal supporters, watching his life through the pictures printed in glossy magazines.
“I loved you long before you ever came to love me,” Ren said.
Shota inhaled sharply.
“And I love you still, Shota Watanabe.” Finally, Ren turned in his spot, Shota’s hands finding purchase on his chest now. He took his hands out of his pockets to hold Shota’s face. His dark eyes seemed to search for something in whatever expression Shota was wearing. “I left you that night without giving you a proper answer because I didn’t know what to say, and you took that action—my silence, my avoidance—as my response. Well, I know the answer now.”
Shota could see how the white puffs of their breaths combined in the space between their faces. He felt the warmth of Ren’s breath against his face. A smile slowly formed on Ren’s face, so incredibly fond and affectionate. Flecks of snow stuck to his dark hair and caught on his eyelashes—beautiful, Shota thought.
Ren brushed the pads of his thumbs across Shota’s cold, red cheeks.
“So, again, ask me to stay.”
🙤❦🙦
mimi 🌸 @megurorenlover · 10s happy new year! some great news to start 2027 with. meguro ren is confirmed to be playing naoki in the netflix adaptation of the alcott series by m. d. berninger. the series is set to release some time in 2028. congrats meme! 🤗 variety.com/2027/tv/news/the-alcott-series…shana ♡ rau @rauIisms
man, this show is going to be 12 eps with each one being an hour long and he’s still only going to have a collective like 6 minutes and 15 secs of screen time … we will be eating it up anyway!!!!
🙤❦🙦
“Mmm, Meme… Can’t you stay a little longer?” Shota muttered, tugging at Ren’s sleeve. “Please.”
Ren laughed, sitting on the edge of the bed. He turned just enough that he was able to lean over and kiss Shota’s forehead. “My manager said someone is on the way. I really can’t stay any longer than this, Shoppi.”
Shota groaned, throwing an arm over his face. The sunlight that streamed in through the large windows of the bedroom was bright and warm, brighter and warmer than it was in Tokyo, and if Shota was in a better mood, he would’ve basked in it. But he was still tired beyond belief, with an ache in his lower back and a slight pounding in his head, both courtesy of the Ren Meguro from last night.
“Why does any bar offer bottomless drinks in the middle of the week?” Shota complained, his arm draped over his eyes. He shifted under the covers, bringing his knee up to nudge Ren’s back. “And you, why didn’t you stop me?”
“It wasn’t like I didn’t try,” Ren countered, but there was no bite to his voice.
His fingers wrapped around Shota’s wrist, pulling his arm away from his face. Then Shota felt Ren smooth down the wrinkles in between his eyebrows before moving down to hold his face. At this, Shota finally opened his eyes, looking at Ren. Despite getting the same amount of sleep and having consumed a similar amount of alcohol as Shota, Ren looked well-rested and showed no signs of needing to nurse a terrible hangover. When he noticed Shota had opened his eyes and was staring, he grinned teasingly.
“Multiple times, by the way. But Raul was drinking you under the table so bad, and you were so determined to catch up to him.”
“Ugh, what it must be like to be twenty-three,” Shota muttered bitterly.
“Speaking of, Raul doesn’t have anything to do today if you want him to take you out.”
Shota hummed, leaning into Ren’s warm touch. “We’ve done all the sightseeing already,” he said. “Maybe just staying in today.”
Ren’s phone began to ring, and Shota sighed when Ren pulled his hand back. He watched Ren as he answered and spoke a few lines of English to whoever was on the other end. When he hung up, he looked down at Shota, a little pouty. It was time for him to leave.
“Impressive,” Shota complimented, hoping to steal just a few more seconds of his time.
Ren smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Hardly. All I just said has only been perfected because I say it every morning. You should see me trying to make small talk with my castmates. One of them is British, so I can’t even begin to understand her.”
He leaned over, but just before they were able to kiss, Shota turned his head away.
“I just woke up,” he said.
Ren let out a small, frustrated huff. He kissed Shota’s cheek, though. Then the corner of his lips. “Fair enough.”
“I’ll see you later,” Shota whispered, turning back to peck Ren’s cheek in return.
“We should be finished before dinnertime. If anything changes, don’t wait for me. Eat dinner and go to bed.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Shota reached up to flick Ren’s nose. “I got it.”
Ren left after that, a little begrudgingly, closing the door of the bedroom as he stepped out into the hall. From the bed, Shota heard the front door open and close, and then a car speed away from somewhere outside.
With a sigh, Shota spread himself out on the bed, still tired but too awake to keep sleeping. As he stared at the ceiling, he thought about the week ahead.
Ren was going to be busy filming for the show every day, but the hours weren’t consistent, so there was no telling how much time they’d be able to spend together. Shota would have to return home at the end of the week, unable to extend his time off any further into the new year. But he didn’t feel panicked. Four years ago, he might’ve. He might’ve felt like these moments would be the last moments he’d have with Ren Meguro’s attention on him—the calm before the storm.
But Ren was determined to show Shota that it was different this time.
It had taken nearly a week of late night talks, admitting to their personal guilts about their breakup and everything that had happened since, before Shota was able to let go of the fears and ghosts of the past and give in. As they sat in the airport days later, Ren told Shota all about his home in LA and how there were plenty of sights to see and the weather would be agreeable for outings despite it being the start of the year. In their conversation, he never once promised anything like he might’ve in the past.
It was new and sudden and very scary, jumping back into something with Ren Meguro. Yet it was easy. Not only did refamiliarizing himself with Ren and their relationship come as second nature, but so did adjusting to the new things, like waking up with Ren clinging to him instead of the other way around or hearing the sound of the door opening right when Ren said he’d return. It was just as Shota had thought months ago when he picked up that magazine: Ren was different. He had changed.
And Shota wasn’t the same either. Whereas Ren seemed to have matured, Shota had done a little of the opposite. He was needier for attention despite his age and a little meaner about it too. It was all a result of the hurt Ren had caused him; he said as much to Ren as well. He was still fine with being alone, but he needed the reassurance that it wouldn’t be forever. Still, Ren was nothing but accepting of him, apologetic for having made him that way but unapologetic in the way he kind of enjoyed it, telling Shota it was just a little endearing to see him indirectly demand affection.
But in the past week, there had been little need to put his sarcastic quips to use. Ren was affectionate when he was anywhere near Shota, no matter if they were in private or public, alone or with others. He never left Shota’s side, like a planet orbiting the sun with a gravitational pull that made it impossible for them to be separated.
And just like Ren enjoyed Shota’s neediness, Shota found himself endeared by Ren’s displays of affection. And in a place like California, no one would ever bat an eye if they held hands on the sidewalk or happened to kiss in the middle of the store.
Four years ago, in the same way a Ren-sized hole made itself known in Shota’s life, a Shota-shaped spot had been left empty at Ren’s side. Neither of them perfectly fit into those places anymore, but they could change and grow to fit them once more, given some time.
“I don’t just follow anyone to the other side of the world,” he had told Ren right before he agreed to come to LA with him.
In the past, regardless of how much he loved Ren, he never would have considered it, not even for a second. Even now, it was a little crazy to drop everything and leave. Shota had only felt all right doing so because he had the luxury of having time to spend with Ren before he had to return to his normal routine.
But more than that, in the past, Ren never would’ve even considered asking Shota to come along in the first place.
“And I don’t just ask anyone to do something so unbelievably crazy,” Ren had answered.
🙤❦🙦
Ren knew he was the only exception to Shota’s rules. He’d known it all this time.
No matter how much things changed around them or how difficult it became, Shota would always, always have a place in his heart and in his life for Ren to make himself comfortable in, to make himself at home in.
And it was the same thing for Ren.
See, he had long achieved his childhood dream. With the things he’d accomplished, he would never worry about money or crave success again. It was time to move on to a bigger, better dream, and Ren already knew what he wanted it to be. There was no doubt about what dream he wanted to chase now.
It was the one that he had kept hidden in the recesses of his mind for nearly a decade, waiting until the time was right. And the time was now.
For four long years, Ren had carefully been carving out a place in his heart and his life, much larger than it was before, in preparation for his new dream. It was ambitious, yes, and there was a possibility that he’d never be able to achieve it, but he was willing to put in the work and prove himself worthy. He’d always been a hard worker, after all.
“I want to do things seriously this time,” Ren said as they walked along the beach on the last day of Shota’s stay. “If we’re going to be together again.”
It was still chilly, but with one of Shota’s hands in Ren’s pockets, their fingers interlocked tightly, he could hardly feel it.
“Well, haven’t you become quite the adult,” Shota commented.
“Hey… I have to be, you know, if I want to get rich enough to be able to take care of you for the rest of our lives, Shoppi.”
Shota stopped them and turned to face Ren, the sound of the waves filling the air between them. Then he kissed Ren sweetly, the red on his cheeks growing deeper as he pulled back to offer a brilliant smile. “You’re so silly.”
It sent a pang through Ren’s chest.
Hikaru had once told Ren that Shota had gotten so drunk on a night out on the town that he was left blubbering about how much he wanted Ren to take care of him for the rest of their lives. They’d been apart for over a year by that point, and yet Shota hadn’t moved on. Ren hadn’t either—he knew he never would, even if he desperately tried.
Because for him, there would never be anyone else but Shota Watanabe.
That time and this moment now were enough for Ren to let himself hope that Shota would one day accept the permanent space he had carved out for him.
🙤❦🙦
NEW BLOG: Meme Monthly, Vol. 217, 26 March 2028
To all who have been supporting me until now,
Thank you for your continued support.
As the cherry blossoms begin to make themselves known in this new season, I hope you find yourself doing well.
It is with a warm heart that I am writing this entry. There is something important I wish for you to be the first to know about. I never thought I would make this kind of announcement, but…
I, Ren Meguro, have gotten married.
It is as we enter a season representative of new beginnings that I would like to begin a new chapter of my life with the person I love most by my side. It is a wish I have made many times since the beginning of my relationship and a dream I have been wanting to achieve for some time. I am happy to share that it finally came true.
I feel a little apologetic for making a sudden and serious personal announcement in a place usually filled with lighthearted jokes and anecdotes, but I wanted to personally let you all know of this development in my life before the press, both here in the US and back home in Japan, released their articles.
It is only because of your continued support that I have been able to take on everything, despite this world’s constantly changing environment.
I will continue to do my very best to make you, who have supported me all this time, proud. I humbly ask for you to keep watching over me warmly.
Meguro Ren (´u`)
🙤❦🙦
yuri @megurochuu · 19m so i am not going to reveal the place bc privacy but after dming with mimi, we’ve come to the conclusion that the location of raul’s most recent instagram post (which was posted two days before meme wedding blog post btw) is a wedding venue in my cityshana ♡ rau @rauIisms
ALL THIS DOES IS CONFIRM THAT RAUL HAD TO BE MEME’S BEST MAN BC WHY ELSE WOULD BE SERVING SO MUCH CUNT IF HE WASN’T IN THE WEDDING PARTY 😭😭😭
yuri @megurochuu
most sane memerau friendship enjoyer pt 627 but also tru
shana ♡ rau @rauIisms
btw do we think meme’s wife is older or younger than him
mimi 🌸 @megurorenlover
older. also he definitely married a man
yuri @megurochuu
aw shit u know it’s real if mimi chimes in … like in relationship speculation of her man, no less!!!
shana ♡ rau @rauIisms
WHAT how can we tell… is there something that suggests that or are we just being delusion
LINA @_rauluar_
In the fourth picture Raul posted, there’s a mirror on the left and you can see the reflection of someone who looks like Meguro and he’s holding the hand of another man. They’re both also dressed in white so that’s why I think it is indeed them (^^)
shana ♡ rau @rauIisms
WAIT I SEE IT NOW. IT’S DEFINTELY MEME 😭
🙤❦🙦
NEW BLOG: Meme Monthly, Vol. 220, 27 June 2028
Hello!
Do you know what today is?
Raul’s birthday!!
Happy birthday, Raul~!
In years past, I’ve invited him out for a meal. But this year, he’s in Paris for his birthday, isn’t he? We visited Paris together some years ago for work! I got emotional thinking about it so I sent him a long video message earlier to congratulate him and recount those memories, but he hasn’t replied yet so I’ll wait until later lol.
He’s very busy these days!! Usually, he sends me a lot of pictures and videos of what he’s up to though, so don’t worry everyone. He’s living well lol
By the way, Raul mentioned something funny when we spoke the other day. He pointed out that his birthday landed at the halfway point between my birthday and that of my husband’s! 🤣
I’m not sure how he came to that conclusion and I can’t confirm the fact since math isn’t my strong suit. My husband studied math, so maybe I should ask him to count the days himself?
Regardless, isn’t that a fun coincidence? 😆
Speaking of, there has been a new addition to my family.
We have finally brought a little brother for Moko-chan into our home~! We debated changing the name since it’s originally in English, but in the end we decided to keep it since it was the most fitting ✨
The name is Bear 😍
He’s a puppy so he is still small and energetic, and Moko-chan enjoys putting him into place when he’s too rough! It’s way too funny 🤣
Next time, I’ll take a video and share it with you all so we can share a laugh.
Even though he’s small now, he’s already the size of his big sister. We were told he could be twice the size of Moko-chan by the time he’s an adult 😰
There are lots of preparations that need to be made in our home before that lol
Ah, also, season two for The Alcott has been announced! ✨
So I’ll continue living in the US then~!
Filming a series in English is much different than filming one in Japanese, especially because I myself am not yet confident in my speaking skills, but all the staff and cast were patient with me. For that, I’m very grateful.
Thank you all for your support on the first season. As some of you may now, the character of Naoki Matsuda plays a bigger role as the story progresses, so I hope you stay tuned to see how he goes from being a meek guy to a man that can be relied on by the rest of the characters!
Then, until next time ✨
[Image of Raul and Ren standing in front of the Eiffel Tower from 2023]
[Image of Bear, a Border Collie puppy, sitting in a grassy field]
[Image of Bear and Moko-chan being awkwardly carried by thin, pale arms. A silver band can be seen on the ring finger of his left hand.]
[Image of Ren posing on the café set for The Alcott.]
Meguro Ren (´u`)
no subject
Date: 2023-09-04 12:04 pm (UTC)My spot!!! Dear author, I'm SO excited to read this!! I'll edit this comment as soon as I'll finish to read it to convey my thoughts and words of gratitude 🖤💙
EDIT: AUTHOR-SAN! GOOD LORD! THIS COMMENT IS GOING TO BE LONG I'M SORRY BUT THIS FIC IS TOO GOOD 😭😭
Okay, so first of all, I love how you combined the elements of my likes. Like, boyfriends who broke up and one of them becomes super famous and the other is left behind while watching him being successful? And that said person coming back and reaching out to his ex??? This is everything I could have ever wished for. Heck, I believe to have thought up about this kind of plot myself in the past. So, I'm bound to have fun.
There are too many things I want to point out so I'll just write the main ones otherwise this comment will be longer than the og work LMAO.
— The start is already *chef's kiss* Shoppi finds himself in front of a display of Meme's magazines, a painful reminder that he is far away from him now, despite having been the closest one to him in the past. Gaahhh 😭😭 And what's worse (read: better) is that Shoppi buys that magazine and reads it, because that's what he has always done despite breaking up??? Shoppi still watching over Meme's activities even if it hurts him a lot skskks. Author-san, I hate (read: love) you for having made him suffer this much.
— The message Ren left for Shoppi!! Please, that, "Shoppi? Ah, I mean, um—is this Shota Watanabe’s phone?" literally ended me. And the way he was speaking, it was clear that he was nervous and I couldn't help but imagine him while on the phone, calling the person he loves the most (because of course he's still in love with him) and being all shy about it. Also, let me say that I loved so much the choice of having Memenabe interact with each other still like they used to. Like, the fact that Shoppi texted him back "You should know that it’s rude to call people during their work hours" was just perfect. Even if they pretend to be strangers now, or distant in some way, what with the way they address each other, it's obvious they're still attached to one another.
— The "date"! I was holding my breath since the start of the scene, because something had just to happen. Shoppi can tell himself that Meme is a stranger to him all the times he wants, he can keep on believing that Meme is now too far away from him, and that he can't be by his side like before, but he hadn't taken into consideration that Meme had other plans in mind. And indeed, he kissed him. THAT KISS AHH AND THEN NOSY SAKUMA AFTER PLEASE. I could totally relate to him. This:
“You gotta tell us!”
“Who is ‘us’?”
SAKUMA AND ME OF COURSE. WE WANT TO KNOW THE TEA. (Also, pls the way I gasped when I saw that Hikaru and Meme actually texted each other and talked about Shoppi?? And Sakuma too! But poor boy was oblivious to the "getting back together with Shoppi" master plan.
— Meme literally ran to Shoppi's place just so he could hear him out. The “the truth is, I thought of you. Shota.” 😭😭😭 This guy got his heart broken, lost what he considered the love of his life, didn't tell his friends about it to protect said love of his life, and he cried all the tears for him not only in private but even on television. His pain and love was so much. I don't know anymore, I can't possibly do this. Author-san, I can't. I'm in tears you see... 😭😭😭 And then memenabe decided to finally stop resisting and gave themselves to each other again. It really felt like the time hadn't passed for them. But it did, and Shoppi knows, but what he doesn't know is that things are changing for the best. Meme is not the same as before, yes, but because now he's 100% committed to making things right this time. This connects me to the next point:
— The Mt. Fuji trip!! And the memories of the past new years. So Meme did want to marry Shoppi, Sakuma was telling the truth, and Shoppi freaking knew. Author-san, the only thing I got for you now is an AAAHHHHH because I legit screamed for every word in that scene. They still love each other. Ren and Shota. Shota and Ren. This is how it must be and this is how they want it to be. I trust them to last this time, and they do! I mean,,, those blog entries,,,, they got married,,, and also got a brother for Moko,,, This is so domestic, I love it, I love it, I freaking love it.
— Miscellaneous: 1. The interview bits, tv shows extracts and tweets from fans you inserted were amazing! Meme was always straightforward with his answers, I loved that you connected the scenes with those! 2. The humor bits were hilarious, huge thumbs-up. 3. Snow Man frienship. That's it, that's the thing (ofc very much appreciated the fact that Datekoji were obviously so close to each other ahhh, oh! And Iwafukka engaged??? AAHH). 4. The backstory was precious. Memenabe first being teacher and student, but then became something more, friends, lovers... Shoppi being the first and no.1 supporter of Meme, who always gave his best for him also (teeaaaarsss 😭😭); 5. Those two final blog entries gave me the last blow. I'm on the floor crying because this is a masterpiece Author-san, I wish you all the happiness in the world because you deserve it.
THERE YOU HAVE IT, a neverending comment. I'm so sorry that it became this long, but really, I just had to shower you in love and affection. Thank you so much for this fic, it's literally one of the best things I've ever read in my life. It's so perfect. I love it so so so much and I'm sure I'll reread it for many years to come 🖤💙
Lastly, special mention to my two favorite lines ever, courtesy of Meguro Ren and Watanabe Shota respectively:
“I’m yours to have anyway you want… Shota.”
“You have me absolutely crazy.”
P.S: Idk why but I enjoy so much when Meme is called with his full name, so having "Ren Meguro" being used in the fic sent me on cloud nine. You really checked everything in my likes list 😍