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suguwife · 5 months ago

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𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮. (eight)

tags: Gojo Satoru x f!reader, kpop idol x influencer, fake dating, 18+ mdni, mentions of drugs/substance abuse/addiction, anxiety, profanity, sexual suggestiveness, slight angst, fluff, smau series

a/n: sorry I KNOWW I said I was going to have the smut scene in this chapter, but I didn’t want to make the wc too long so it’ll be in the next one ;) - not proofread so sorry for any mistakes

-7k wc

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - Gojo Satoru, a top idol, finds himself at the centre of a public scandal after being photographed in a club appearing intoxicated. Rumors of substance abuse quickly circulate, causing fans and the public to question his reliability and professionalism. Due to severe backlash, his PR team proposes a fake relationship with Y/N, a social media influencer renowned for her healthy lifestyle, to salvage his tarnished image, reduce suspicions and trick the public. However, trouble intensifies when he’s unable to let go of his addiction. - 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄

(previous)

After exiting your apartment, you walk down the street to the areas cars usually park, turning your head around till you hear a loud honk startling you.

You turn your head to see him through his rolled down window, black suit, white button up shirt, the first couple undone. Fuck he looked so good. Men in suits always turned you on.

Remain professional y/n..

“Hey.” You say as you walk towards his car, but he’s opening his door and getting out, a wide grin on his face. “Why are you getting out-“

He closes his car door behind him and places his large hand on the small of your back, leading you towards the passenger side of the car, “I just wanted to be polite and open the door for you.”

Oh, cute, you chuckle at that. “No need..” You say quietly, but allow him to proceed anyway. You did always like being pampered and treated. Though you haven’t really received such treatment for years since Naoya’s toxic ass.

He smiles at you as he holds the door open for you, watching you slide into the passenger seat before closing the door. He’s trying not to steal too many glances and stares, trying his best not to focus on the exposed skin of your legs in that dress as he walks around the car to the driver’s side, but fuck, he can feel a boner coming.

After rounding the car he gets back into his drivers seat and starts the engine, turning the radio on again. Glancing at your figure for a moment out the corner of his eye after putting on his seat belt, his nose inhales the vanilla aroma flowing off your body.

“Strong perfume.” He says as he looks at the road ahead.

“I can smell yours too.” Oh that manly cologne smell. He really was turning you on, but you can’t show that.

“Yeah, you got a problem with that?” His cocky smirk flashing you as he drives, glancing at you for a moment before turning his attention back to the road.

You turn your head to him, brows furrowed, “Are you getting an attitude with me? After I gave you cookies twice?”

His smirk is still on his face as he speaks back, “Me? Attitude? Never..” He says, feigning innocence. “What would I have an attitude about?”

“Wait, are you for real?” Because you’re wondering now, your tone more serious. Is he mad about the fact you reminded him of the contract rules? It’s not like it’s your fault.

He senses the change in your tone and drops his act, “Nah, I’m just messing with you sweetheart.”

You stare ahead at the road, the sunset melting into the ground and trees creating a pink and purple wonderland. “Are you annoyed at something?” And you see his fingers tightening on his wheel slightly, it doesn’t go unnoticed by you. Nothing really does.

“What? No. Why would you think I’m annoyed?” There’s a hint of defensiveness in his voice, and you can tell he’s trying to play it off. Why do men do that? Always brushing off their feelings.

“Because you sound cheeky.” Your arms crossing over your chest as you lean back in your seat, speaking as you stare at the road ahead. “You’re not annoyed or anything because I told you the rules about the contract are you? This has to be strictly friends or acquaintances or.. whatever we are.” Because you don’t know what you both are, really.

He flirts so much, but you just act friendly back. But you can’t deny how attractive he is, you can’t deny that you like him, just a little. Do you like him as a friend or more? No idea.

He goes silent for a moment after you call him out, his grip on the steering wheel tightening more as he processes your words. “No, I'm not annoyed. you were just reminding me, that’s fine. I don't mind.”

You know he’s still bothered but trying to keep his voice casual, so you decide not to press the issue onto him anymore. “Oh right, okay.”

He nods slightly in response, keeping his gaze locked on the road. There's an awkward silence in the air for a moment as he tries to keep his composure while driving. He glances at you for a moment, stealing a quick glance at your figure, that stupid dress is just too distracting…He needs to take his mind off it.

“Oh yeah I got you a little gift, just a thank you for helping me out with this whole.. drug scandal.”

Turning your head to him, your face brightens with a smile under the sunset and illuminating street lamps, “A gift??”

The smile on his face returns as he speaks, “Yeah, it’s nothing big. But I still wanted to get you something as a thank you.”

“Ouu.. when do I get it?”

“I’ll give it to you when we arrive at the restaurant.”

You chuckle softly, “What is it?”

“Why do you want to know? You’ll see when we get there.” God he’s such a tease.

“Why would you tell me you have a gift for me then? Just to tease me? I need to know now.”

He laughs, enjoying the way you’re begging to find out. “I’m not going to tell you, you’ll just have to wait. I promise it’s nothing too big.”

“Fine.” You slouch back in your seat, turning your head back to the road. “How long till we get there?”

“Only fifteen minutes away, shouldn’t be too long.”

“Mhm, okay.”

You can see his eyes on you out of the corner of your own eyes, his gaze slowly trailing over your figure for a moment, releasing a quiet sigh, then forcing his eyes back to the road.

The car goes over a bump and he looks back down at your legs, your dress riding up slightly exposing your thighs just a little more. Does he think you can’t see?

“You look good by the way.”

You want to giggle and blush but, no. You know how to keep yourself composed. “Thank you.”

And he’s looking you up and down shamelessly with a smirk, “You look really good, not just good, but really.. really good.”

Oh he’s such a dork, it makes him so cute and you can’t help but laugh a little as you say, “You too, Satoru..”

His eyes trail over your figure much longer than it should, not even trying to hide it. “Yeah?”

“Mhm. I like suits.” You look back at the road, stopping yourself from flirting too much, remembering to follow the contract rules.

Strictly. Fake. Dating.

“Really? I’ll keep that in mind.”

Finally, he parks the car and turns to you as we arrive at the destination of the fancy restaurant you chose. “Do I get the gift now or inside?” You say, turning to him too as you smile widely.

He chuckles at the sight of your smile, “We’ll go inside first and then you’ll get it.”

And you giggle as you try to open the door, eager to get that gift, but he keeps the door locked. You turn your head back to him with wide and confused eyes, “Open it?”

“Stupid.. I’m going to open it for you. Also there’s paparazzi over there,” He nods his head to the side, keeping his gaze on me. You glance out the front window, and he’s right. They’re all standing there trying to look discreet but those huge cameras are embarrassingly obvious.

“They’re waiting to bombard us so hang tight yeah?”

He gets out of the car and quickly walks around to your side, opening the door for you. He holds his hand out, offering to help you out of the car as he notices the paparazzi waiting nearby, walking towards you both.

As soon as I take his hand and step out with just one foot, the paparazzi are already flashing their lights and throwing us question after question. How did they know we’d be here? Whatever, publicity I guess. Maybe our managers told them. Maybe someone was stalking us and revealed information.

Gently, he helps you out of the car, keeping his poker face on as the paparazzi start snapping a bunch of photos as he shuts the door behind you. He puts his hand around you, his hand wrapped onto the side of your shoulder as you huddle close to him, subtly guiding you away from the paparazzi and reporters

They call out questions as we walk towards the entrance, cameras and microphones being shoved into our faces, some reporters practically yelling so their voices can be heard over the other reporters. We really should’ve had security prepared for us before we came.

“How did you both meet?!”

“How long have you been together?”

“Gojo, look over here!”

“Are you really an addict or were they just lies?!!”

Invasive much. His grip on your body tightens, wrapping you closer to him as you both ignore them and walk towards the entrance, trying to protect you from the onslaught. He smells so good, so manly.

Your eyes glance down, his hands are.. shaking, yet when you glance up, he’s got a poker face on. It's as if he’s trained himself to learn how to hide his feelings. His knuckles are almost white from squeezing his hands into fists.

Thankfully and finally, two guards at the door push the paparazzi away and we enter the fancy restaurant, at peace.

You both let out a heavy breath as soon as you enter, the silence is relieving. the paparazzi can still be seen outside trying to get a look through the windows.

“Fuck, we shouldve had security prepared for us.” You say as you look out the windows of the building, their snapping pictures through the window. Weirdos.

He looks down at you and chuckles breathlessly, “Yeah, we probably should’ve. I didn’t think they’d find out we were here so quickly, it’s like they have spies everywhere or something.”

As we walk further in he books us a table, and we’re about to sit down in the waiting lounge but he freezes in his steps.

“Oh shit.. shit. I left your gift in the car boot.. fuck.” He groans and facepalms for a moment, “Damn it, I’ll be right back sweetheart, wait here.”

“But the paparazzi-“

He shakes his head quickly, “Don’t worry, I’ll be quick. They won’t bother you, the security will keep them at bay. I promise I’ll be right back.”

“No I meant what about yo-“ He wouldn’t even let you finish a damn sentence.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me sweetheart.” He says through chuckles. He keeps calling you sweetheart. “Just sit down and wait for me, I’ll come back as soon as I get the gift, alright?”

“Okay..” and he smiles at you as your protest finally stops.

“Don’t worry. I swear I’ll be quick.” He pats your shoulder gently before heading back towards the entrance, bracing himself to deal with the paparazzi outside once more.

You were a little worried, they were asking about his drug scandal earlier, how rude can they get??

He exits the building, wanting to head over to his car, the paparazzi immediately surround him but he just ignores them and opens the car boot, grabbing the Cartier gift bag before quickly closing it. the flashing cameras are relentless, and the reporter’s questions are becoming worse.

“Gojo why haven’t you spoken about your drug scandal?”

“Was it real?”

“Were you set up?!”

“How’s your relationship with y/n like?!”

Gritting his teeth, the annoyance and frustration mounts inside him as he forces himself to remain calm and collected. He grips the gift bag tightly in his hand. “No, the drug scandal wasn’t real. That person wasn’t me. My relationship with y/n is perfect.” He states blankly as he gives a cold stare to the reporters.

He doesn’t give anymore answers, the paparazzi clearly trying to get more information out of him, but he’s done answering their stupid questions. He starts walking back to the entrance with the gift bag in his hand, making sure not to look at the paparazzi as he passes by, not wanting to give them the attention they crave.

Finally, he makes it back into the restaurant, breathing a sigh of relief once he’s free from the relentless paparazzi again, he looks around for you. His gaze quickly lands on your figure as he spots you sitting in the lobby.

You turn to him with a smile, standing up to walk to him. His hands are shaking again. You don’t know if it’s because he’s frustrated or if it’s from needing his drugs from the paparazzi. “Hey, you okay? You’re shaking..” and you take his large hand in yours gently, a little worried.

Does he have anxiety? Is that why he takes drugs? He did say it’s to help him relax. Oh god, how badly you wanted to help this poor boy, but you didn’t know where to start. Helping someone with addiction isn’t always going to work if they’re not willing to help themselves.

He swallows hard before he speaks, his Adam’s apple bopping up and back down again, “I’m fine. Just don’t like those damn reporters, they're so annoying.” He speaks fast, his voice strained. He’s trying to brush it off..

“Come on, let's go eat and forget.” You say with a smile as you chuckle softly, and he smiles back at you. You don’t want to keep him anxious, so making him forget about those idiots should help him, maybe. “Our tables are ready and-“ your eyes glance down to the gift bag in his hand, a dark red bag with the words “Cartier” written on, your eyes widening.

“Satoru.. you said the gift was nothing big?”

A sheepish smile finds his face, “This isn’t too big? Just a thank you. Come on, let's go.” And he’s leading you towards the tables.

He pulls out a chair for you at the table ready in the corner of the hall, waiting for you to sit down before taking a seat himself. Then he places the gift bag in front of you.

You don't say anything for a little while, just staring at the gift with a softened smiling gaze. This man really went ahead and spent thousands on you just for a “thank you.”

Well, to him, thousands is nothing when his net worth is ₩140,000,000, but he still spent money on you. That means something to you. A man willing to spend his own earnings and time, to buy you a gift. It's cute.

“Thank you..” you say as you look up at him, “I love gifts.”

He returns your smile with his own, “You’re welcome. Let’s order then you can open it, yeah?”

“Oh- hold on lemme take a quick.. quick picture.” You chuckle awkwardly, you didn’t want to be those type of people who ruin moments by taking pictures, but you needed to take this. One for publicity and to fix his image, and another because.. well it’s a nice memory. “Need to show fans that their idol isn’t an awful drug addict.”

Because he’s not, he’s so much more than that.

Honestly, you really did believe he was an addict when your manager first told you about the whole situation, so you didn’t really mind having the contract sealed without your consent. Although you could’ve taken him to court, you had some sort of butterfly in your mind, telling you that you should help him, somehow. Convincing you that you could. You don’t know anyone with addiction, have zero education on addiction, but you wanted to help him. Maybe it’s just that motherly nature within you. Although, something in your mind is still telling you that he is an addict. You don’t know, you’ll have to see

You thought he’d be a dickhead or annoyed by the situation, but he’s not. From the very first interaction, he’s always been sweet.

He chuckles softly at your comment, rolling his eyes slightly in mock annoyance but plays along, “Oh, of course. Gotta maintain the public image. Go ahead. take the picture then.”

You quickly snap a picture and post it on your instagram story, tagging his name with a heart emoji after.

“Okay let's take a look at the menu..” you say, looking down at the card sheet before you.

After deciding your meals and drinks, he calls over a waitress and places the order, all the while being a little fidgety with his hands and body, you didn’t want to comment on it though, not now.

“Can I just open the gift now?” You were feeling a little restless. I mean, a Cartier bag waiting in front of you, what a tease.

“Sure, go ahead,” he says after a chuckle, “Open it.”

You take out the box inside the bag and a slight gasp escapes you as you look at the Large Gold D’amour Cartier necklace before you.

He watches intently, his heart skipping a beat at the sight of you.. he waits anxiously for your reaction, his breath catching in his throat as he sees the look in your eyes. You’re staring at the gift in silence, and he wants you to say something, feeling a little anxious.

It's so beautiful, so beautiful yet so simply elegant. A small gold chain with a larger circle gem pendant in the middle. You always loved Cartier. When you were younger, more into love and men you always wanted a Cartier love bracelet. It just screamed romance. But you never had a man you wanted to share it with. Especially with Naoya being your only boyfriend in your entire life, that abusive, toxic fuck.

It's as if Satoru knew you’d like Cartier somehow. “I love it, it’s so cute. Thank you so much Satoru.”

He exhales heavily, a smile on his face, that beautiful smile. Sometimes, you wish you both would’ve met under different circumstances, rather than under a contract. You know he feels the same way too.

“You're welcome. I saw it online and thought it would suit you, so I had to buy it.”

“₩3,210,000 as a thank you for fake dating you?” And he laughs in response, always laughing.

“Well, I couldn’t just get you some cheap gift. After all.. the “fake” dating deal is pretty big you know? Plus I just wanted to spoil you a bit.”

Well you did like being spoiled too. Is this a love language or is he just being nice?

“You literally sent me ₩2.4million the other day.”

“Oh come on, don’t act like you didn’t like it.”

“Yeah yeah okay.. I can’t say I want you to stop, so I won’t.” You roll your eyes as you smile and look back at him.

He stands up from his seat, coming behind you and taking the necklace out the box, your head turns as you look at him confused with wide eyes again.

“Turn your head and lift your hair for me.” Okay, bossy. But you do as he says anyways.

His fingers trace brush against your neck, shooting signals down to your core as he clasps the necklace on for you. You feel his hands at the back of your neck, tracing the clasp with his index finger, teasing, or maybe just appreciating his own gift.

He stands back and goes back to his seat in front of you, smiling at the necklace then glancing back up at you.

“Pretty, it does suit you.”

You look away, giggling softly, hand covering your mouth, and you can feel him smiling at you. God he’s making you blush like a high school girl, just like Utahime said.

“You're really cute when you laugh like that.” Fuck, that was so random? You’re sure you’re blushing right now. It’s supposed to be the other way round. When did he get such confidence to flirt with you like this?

“Don't flirt with me Satoru..” you can’t go against the contract rules.

He laughs softly at your response, a playful grin on his face,“Why not? It’s all part of the act, remember? Gotta maintain the fake relationship image.”

Oh he’s such a liar, he’s not acting at all.

You glance around the room, seeing people eye you both from afar, recognising you both.

“Gotta keep it convincing..” he says, looking at you. A slight smirk on his lips, his eyes softening but playful at the same time. Fuck. And that suit he’s in.. the first couple buttons of the shirt unbuttoned revealing more of his pale skin.. oh fuck.

“Then..” and you don’t know what comes over you, it’s like he’s poured alcohol into your system.

From across the table, your delicate fingers find his as you gently take hold of both his hands, smiling at him softly. And you can practically hear his breath catching in his throat at your sudden affection, but his long fingers intertwine with yours too.

Slowly, softly, carefully, his thumb caresses over your knuckles and you look down at our hands, partied lips.

You just let him, keeping your pupils locked on the intimacy of your hands, a sense of tenderness between you both. But it’s all fake, all an act. And you need to keep remembering that, remember the rules.

“You know, you have really large hands.” And he laughs in response, seems like you make him laugh a lot, huh?

“Yeah, I get that a lot.”

His hand lifts yours up, gently tracing the lines of your palm with his thumb, his touch feather-light. He grins at you, his gaze shifting from your hand to your face, and you just stare at him wide eyed with parted lips. This is so intimate it’s scary.

“Your hands are so much smaller than mine.” The cage of butterflies within you, being unlocked after so many years. They’re fluttering everywhere.

He holds up his hand next to yours, the difference in size and length of your fingers and palms becoming even more obvious. He chuckles softly, feeling a sense of protectiveness as he looks down at your smaller hand.

“Jesus, your fingers are like two fingers joined together.”

“Yeah, they’re pretty long aren’t they?”

Yeah, they are. Oh the thoughts running in your mind need to shut up.

He spreads out his fingers, showing you just how much longer they are than yours. He grins and playfully wiggles them, “Would you be able to handle them?” A smirk playing on his lips

Your smile falters, you blink, your lips part. There is no way he just said that, so casually, so shamelessly. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing. Just a silly joke.” He keeps that grin on, but it’s more sheepish now, trying to play off his sexual innuendo.

“So, uh, how long are we supposed to keep up the whole “fake relationship” thing anyway?” He says looking down at our hands, his thumb once again rubbing gently over your knuckles.

Nice way to change the topic, Satoru. And his memory really is a little disorientated.. Drugs.

“I told you the other day.. nine months.”

“Right, nine months. Seems like a long time. Doesn’t it?”

“I know, when my manager told me I'd be dating you I thought it’d only be a couple months. Then I read the contract. I guess it’s to reduce suspicions from the public for when we “breakup”.”

Honestly, you didn’t want this to be over. Its barely been two weeks and he’s already felt so nice and comforting to be around. You just hope you’re allowed to stay friends with him once the contract is over.

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense.” He pauses for a moment, his gaze wandering up to your face as he thinks. You can tell he’s trying to keep his expression neutral, but his eyes give away a hint of disappointment. He focuses down at our intertwined hands once more, his thumb absently tracing circles over your knuckles as he speaks, “But nine months…It’s gonna be pretty hard to keep up the facade for that long.”

“Why?”

“Well you know..” He speaks quietly now, “it’s going to be pretty hard to pretend we’re a couple for so long, especially since..”

You didn’t want to be mean, but you had to say it. “Satoru, don’t tell me you're already getting feelings.” You’re such a hypocrite, you’re sure you’re getting feelings too, you’re just caging them within you.

You see his body stiffen and he lets out a nervous laugh. “What? No, no. Of course not. We barely know each other.”

Right. Cartier gift, sending you money.. You wish you could get rid of the cage within you but you can’t. You need to keep any growing feelings locked within you.

“I’m just saying it’s gonna be a challenge, that’s all. Pretending to be in love with someone for nine months isn’t easy.”

“Sure it is, you’ve acted in a film before.”

He laughs softly, “Yeah, but acting in a film and pretending to be in a relationship for months are two different things.” He pauses. “It’s going to be hard to act all lovey-dovey in public, knowing it’s all just an act.”

“Hm.. well we’re doing it right now aren’t we?” You say, looking down at your hands with a neutral expression, your thumb running over his knuckles now. “Just take it as activities friends do.. that the public see as romantic. Simple. It’s to fix your image after all. ”

“Activities friends do..” he repeats after you, “..that the public see as romantic.”

He glances up at your face and you look back at him. “Gotta fake it till we make it.” He says with a wide grin and you nod and laugh in response.

“Don't you find it fun? It feels like I’m making new friends by doing this for you.”

“Yeah it is.. I guess. It feels like a game, pretending.”

“Well then, maybe you shouldn’t have been caught in that drug scandal, silly.”

He sighs before he speaks, “Yeah, yeah I know. It was stupid of me and I wasn’t thinking straight. You don’t need to fucking remind me.”

Oh, okay. You just look at him sympathetically. Is he mad? He’s got a little sass to him.

One of his hands escapes your grasp on the table, his other hand still intertwined with yours. With his free hand, he runs his hand through his hair as he sighs. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to snap at you like that.” He says, “It’s just.. this whole thing is a lot to deal with you know? All the shit online.. the media.. the paparazzi questioning me..”

“It’s fine.. you just.. it just worries me. You worry me.” And you’re right, he does. It’s the truth. Sometimes when you’re at home, you can’t help but think “Is he taking any drugs right now?” “Why won’t he tell me the truth? I know his addiction is bad.” “What if he actually isn’t addicted? What if I’m worried for nothing?”

You don’t know why it worries you so much, you barely know this guy. But some sort of connection has grown, something within you telling you that you have to have this sense of care towards him.

“Worry you? Why?”

“I told you this before.. Your thing with drugs, it worries me. You say you’re not addicted, but are you sure?” You pause, inhaling as you blink to look away, then back at him. “You don’t need to keep lying to me, we’ll be dating for nine whole months.”

His voice is firm and slow, “I’m not lying, I’m being serious. I’m not addicted. I can stop any time I want.”

Oh, here we go. You know he’s lying. You just have that gut feeling within you. And the way he’s speaking, it’s so defensive. So frustrated. You don’t want to pester him, but you signed up for this in the contract, to give him a sense of help for his addiction, that’s your job here. That’s what you influence, a healthy lifestyle.

“When was the last time you took something?”

“It was.. this morning.”

“Why?”

“We had dance practice and I needed it to relax. Just a small amount, nothing too serious like you’re thinking.”

“.. What did you take?”

He avoids your gaze, looking down at the one hand of yours that’s intertwined with his. “Xanax.. only a low dose though.”

“How much?”

“It was just 1mg.”

Okay, that's not too bad right? Honestly, you don’t really know much about doses, you should probably research when you get home.

All you know is he’s illegally occupying these drugs, his manager already told yours, who alerted you. So clearly, he’s doing more than usual, otherwise he could just ask his doctor for them if he has anxiety, which you can sort of tell he does.

You don’t respond straight away, simply looking down at his hands as you rub your thumb over his knuckles in a sense of .. care?

“When did you start?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Satoru..” You tilt your head with worried eyebrows, “I just want to help, that’s part of my job in this whole situation.”

He closes his eyes, inhaling deeply as he reluctantly responds, “Fine, might as well tell you ‘cause you’re not going to leave me alone about this, are you?” His voice is low, irritated.

“No, I won’t.”

He sighs, preparing himself before actually revealing everything. “I started… about 3 years ago. Went to the doctor for my anxiety and they prescribed Xanax for a month. Then they just fucking stopped it.”

He pauses for a moment, opening his eyes but still avoiding eye contact as he looks down at your thumb, caressing his knuckles. “But I… couldn’t stop taking it, I needed it to relax, to quiet down the thoughts in my head. So I started buying it on the street, small amounts at first, but then…then I started finding out about different products that help, stronger ones. Like uh.. heroin.. coke..other tablets that help with anxiety too..” He pauses again, still looking down.

“Well yeah now I can’t stop,” He laughs looking back up at you. Why is he laughing? Like he’s genuinely laughing. Not even an awkward laugh. “I don’t overdose if you’re thinking that.”

“So that means you do overdose,” You say, staring at him as you speak in a serious tone, contrasting his humorous behaviour. “I never even said anything.”

He shifts uncomfortably in his chair, feeling a pang of guilt and shame at being called out so bluntly. His eyes meet our hands intertwined again. “I’m not stupid, I know my limits. I’ve never gone overboard, never ended up in the ER. I’m in control here.”

Oh god. It’s breaking your heart. Little by little.

How can you possibly help him if he keeps lying to himself?

“No.. you’re not stupid, not at all.. I never meant that.” You bite down on your lip for a little,then inhale as you look down, why is this seriously breaking your heart?

“You're not stupid. It’s not like you can just stop, can you..”

He lets out a soft, broken laugh at your words. “No, no I can’t stop. Once I started taking them, it was like I couldn’t go back. The more I took, the more I needed to keep taking. It’s just… I needed to keep going. Otherwise everything becomes too much.”

“What are the specific reaso-“ The corner of your eyes sees a waitress approaching, fuck. “Wait, change the subject. Someone’s coming over.”

He looks up and quickly composes himself, a smile on his face. God he must be so happy for the distraction.

You both watch as your food is placed on the table, your stomach rumbling in anticipation. The conversation from before still hangs heavily in the air.

“Oh.. they set out the food so beautifully.”

He hums in agreement, and you can see him still staring at your face rather than the food, he’s not even glanced at the food properly yet.

You look back at him but he quickly breaks out of his gaze and finally looks down at the food, his eyes widening at the presentation. You hold back your laugh. He’s still shy, not always so cocky and confident.

“Yeah, it does. they really went all out.” He says with a smile.

He takes a bite of his food, savouring the flavours and letting out an appreciative hum, looking back up at you with a smile.

“Damn, this is good. Eat yours.”

And you do, the tastes melting onto your tongue, rich, savoury and perfectly cooked.

“.. Do you want to carry on the conversation from before or..?”

He doesn't respond straight away, his expression unreadable as his gaze is locked onto the food whilst he chews.

He swallows, then speaks, “I guess. You’re going to pester me anyway. But let’s finish eating first, yeah?”

After around 10 minutes, you both finish your meals, putting your utensils down.

“Alright, you can bug me with your questions now.” He says with a playful smirk, as if this is all a joke. But you can’t help but laugh a little back, he’s so childish it’s cute. But also a little worrying. He’s always playing off his emotions. Why do men act like that?

“I’m not trying to bug you idiot. We should pay for the food first though, then talk about this in the car I think..”

You both feel the tension from earlier lift off you both as he laughs lightly at your response. “Yeah, you’re right.”

He calls over a waitress, he pays the bill keeping up a casual and easy demeanour. Then he stands up and offers you his hand, “Ready, baby?”

You roll your eyes as you scoff a laugh, taking his hand gently as you stand up, picking up the Cartier gift bag off the table.

His fingers intertwined with yours once more, his hands are still trembling, ever so slightly. It's almost unnoticeable. But you notice it, you’re feeling it.

Once outside, the paparazzi that were waiting there bombard you both again. Shielding you as best as he can, he pushes through the throng of media as you’re filled with discomfort.

You both finally manage to reach the car and he quickly opens the passenger door for you to get in. After you're inside, he gets into his driver's seat and closes the door, the both of you exhaling heavily in relief as some distance is put between you both and the cameras.

“You okay?” His voice is teasy and sarcastic, trying to light up the mood, “You're not completely traumatised by the experience of dealing with the media right?”

You chuckle again in response, the both of you seem to laugh a lot around each other. “I didn’t think it’d be that bad when I signed up for this.”

“Yeah, it can be pretty overwhelming dealing with the media. But I have experience dealing with these vultures, you get used to it after a while..” He pauses as you hum in agreement.

“Let me park in a different area, yeah? Then we can talk about.. you know.. what you want to know. There’s no point of me lying anymore. You won’t tell anyone though right?”

“No, of course not. I won’t do that. I promise.” And you won’t, anything too personal you won’t. You usually tell Utahime everything, but you won’t this time. You promised.

He smiles softly at your reassurance and nods, pulling out of the parking lot and driving the car to a quieter, more secluded area. The short drive is filled with silence until he parks his car in a secluded area under the night sky.

There's no other cars around in this parking lot, the only sound around being the hum of the engine and the distant sound of city noise. Someone could kill us here, he could kill me here. Fuck, what am I thinking?

You both allow the silence to fill the air for a moment, the tension slowly building once more.

He glances at you, his gaze fixed intently on your face as he finally speaks, his voice low and soft ,"Alright, you can ask me whatever you want to know. I’ll answer honestly.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

“Why did your doctor stop your prescription?”

He doesn't say anything for a moment then takes a deep breath before answering, "The doctor was worried about the long-term side effects and potential harm to my body. They had an idea that I was becoming addicted because I kept asking for more from the pharmacy and when I had any appointments. He told me I couldn’t take anymore and I.. got angry.. yelled and shit.. so they took me off it.”

Why would they do that? How dumb do they have to be to just.. stop it completely instead of gradually helping him to stop? You blame his doctor for his whole addiction, they were reckless.

“Why do you do it? Specifically.”

He lets out a bitter laugh at the question, shaking his head slightly. “Why do I do it? I don’t know. Being an idol I guess it just..” He pauses again, struggling to find the words to express himself. "Practising for hours on end.. hardly any rest.. the media.. fans.. everything it’s just..”

He grips the steering wheel tight as he slouches in his seat, his knuckles turning white. “Everything gets too much. My mind is always going a thousand miles a minute. There’s too much to deal with. Too much pressure when your #3. The label wants to get us to #1, and they’ll force anything onto us to achieve that.”

You don’t respond, simply listen, letting him really come to terms with his issues instead of playing them off as a joke.

“The drugs help quiet everything. They numb the thoughts and the feelings and make it all bearable for a short while.”

“And you take.. illegal drugs.. like heroin.. and..” You inhale a shuddered breath, biting your lip as you look away. Then look back at him with a pitiful look.

“I know it’s bad. Trust me, I know. I’m not stupid. But it’s my way of coping I guess. It just helps me get through the day.”

“You take some every day?” And he nods, shame written on his face.

“And I never said you were stupid. Stop thinking that okay? You’re not.. it’s not entirely your fault, your doctor is at fault mainly here.”

But again, he lets out a bitter laugh at your words, “No, stop saying that. It is my fault. I’m the one who keeps doing these things. There’s no one else to blame but me.” He hasn’t made eye contact with you once during this conversation.

“… Don’t think like that.”

“Why not?” And he’s finally turned his head to you, voice full of frustration and defensiveness as his eyes meet yours with furrowed brows.

“Self blaming will just make you feel more negative and anxious, making you need more drugs to calm you down. You can’t always control your brain if it’s been wired differently, the only thing that is your fault is your lack of truly trying to change.”

His one hand gripping on the steering wheel tightens even more, anger rising in his chest, “Lack of trying to change? You don’t think I haven’t tried? I’ve tried to stop so many times, and every time I fucking fail. Every time I keep coming back to the drugs. I’m hopeless. That's all there is to it. I don’t know why my manager contacted you for help, I’m just going to bother you.”

“You don’t bother me. Just worry. When was the last time you tried to stop?”

You see him hesitate, as if he wants to lie again, but his eyes meet yours once more. “Like.. seven months ago, relapsed after a week.” He scoffs a laugh at himself.

“That’s a long time ago though.”

“Yeah, I know. But I didn’t want to try again. Felt like I was losing my mind during that week. I just couldn’t handle it.”

“What support did you have at the time?”

He lets out a hollow, bitter laugh again, "Support? I don't need support. I'm supposed to be a successful, talented idol. I'm supposed to get women and be the man. I can't be seen as weak and vulnerable. I can't have people seeing the mess of a man I am, the weak, broken guy who can't get over his fucking anxiety or stop taking drugs."

…

Your lips are parted, brows furrowed and eyes wide as you freeze and just stare at him. Did he just say that? Why are you shaking? There’s no way he truly thinks like that. It’s breaking your heart.

“Jesus- are you crazy?!”

“I take drugs, what do you think, sweetheart?”

“No i mean-“ and you inhale sharply, squeezing your eyes shut to compose yourself and then open them again at his irritated expression. “Satoru.. that’s what you call stupid.” And he grits his teeth in anger, “What the actual fuck do you mean you don’t need support? You have Shoko and Geto. Did you ever seek support from them when you were having withdrawals?”

“No. But when they’d try to help I’d yell at them I guess. So now they make jokes with me about it instead to help me cope, but Shoko gets fucking mad when she sees me actually doing the drugs in front of her or if she sees me carrying it and Suguru just lectures me.”

“Do you push them away?”

“Yeah, so what? I never want them to see me all weak like that. I just want to deal with it on my own, prove that I’m strong and in control.”

“You don’t need to do that, you know it won’t help to just rely on yourself. If you feel like you’re about to relapse after trying to stop, you seek help and comfort to stop you from doing that.”

He lets out a huff of frustration, “I know I'm supposed to do that, but... but it just feels like I should be able to handle it on my own. It feels weak, to have to rely on other people to hold me up. I don't want to burden them with my problems.”

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