#like i play Fantine and am assistant director

[sylvia-plaths-fig-pie]

I want to write again for Sam so bad, I have a plot outline and eveything but I simply don't have the time rip

Teach Me ♡ Sam Winchester

Pairing: Sam winchester x reader

Wc: didn't check but it's not too long

Tw: not proof read, no use of y/n, slightly suggestive if you squint ig, mentions of cannon typical violence but not really

Summary: Sam hears you playing piano (listen to the song i imaged bellow), you're so at peace (so beautiful) that he can't help but utter the words "teach me" and that's exactly what you do.

♡♡♡♡♡

For once you Sam and Dean were actually staying in a nice hotel. Yep a hotel not a motel. It was appart of the ruse to be fancy business people, and that included staying in a nice hotel.

While the case was tough and you all had many sleepless nights it turned out to be a simple salt and burn and the ghost was gone.

And that lead you to now, standing in the hotel lobby looking at the beautiful grand piano in front of you.

You used to play piano as a child, your one constant throught the hectic hunting lifestyle growing up was piano, but it had been years since you last actually played. But how you longed to play once more.

That's why you found your self sitting at the stool, your hands tracing the keys as you thought of what to play.

You settled on your favorite 'easy' tune, one that you knew you would never forget; a piano cover of this is love.

And so you played.

And played.

And played.

You were at peace for the first time in a long time. It felt right.

Maybe in another life, if you weren't a hunter, you could have been a professional pianists. If you had proper training, and the time, and a piano all to your self. Yet it wasn't ment to be.

Sometimes you just wanted to leave this life forever, chase your dreams, maybe be a music teacher, have a family or something? That's what normal people do, right?

But you couldn't, or rather you wouldn't, you couldn't leave the Winchesters. Or at least you couldn't leave one spefic Winchester. Of course you cared for Dean as though he was your own older brother, but Sam... you couldn't imagine a life without him. You would do anything for that boy, it terrified you, and yet you stuck by him through everything regardless of the pit in your stomach everytime he was in danger, or the ache in your heart when he looked at you.

Dean made fun of you constantly, always teasing about your sight 'crush' on his brother. He always said Sam felt the same, but you knew that wasn't the case. So you had to settle for looking out for him from afar, being too scared to say anything to make it awkward.

So you played.

And played.

And played.

"Teach me."

You look up from the piano in front of you, coming out of what felt like a trance.

"Teach me." Sam said again, sitting beside you on the tiny piano stool. It clearly wasn't ment for two people to sit on, yet there he was, all 6"4 of him, perched beside you.

You studied him for a second, unsure as to whether he really ment his words or not. It appeared that he actually was in earnest.

At first you wanted to say no. Not because you didn't want to teach him, the opposite really. You didn't know whether you would be able to keep your composure if you had to hold and move Sam's hand in order to teach him.

Just as you were about to come up with some excuse you made the mistake of looking him in the eyes. His eyes, that were already trained on yours, were embodying his 'puppy dog' eyes as you and Dean coined them. Eyes that melted your heart and made it impossible to say no.

"Fine." You rolled your eyes and sighed at Sam, looking away from him. 'Don't make a fool of yourself' you heard yourself saying in your head.

You were just teaching him how to play piano, Sam's a curious guy, there is nothing more to it, no lingering feelings or longing stares (well from him anyways). You were just being a good friend.

That's what you and Sam are. Friends.

"I'll teach you happy birthday since its almost Dean's..." you trailed of catching a glimps of Sam's wide smile from the corner of your eye. "So you need to put your thumb on C."

He didn't move.

You looked at him in the eyes now, raising an eyebrow. First he asks you to teach him, but now he isn't following the very first instructions? You were confused untill-

"I don't know why your looking at me, I don't know which one C is." Sam laughed.

Shit. You'd forgotten about that.

"Oh sorry," you mumbled awkwardly, "it's the one before the two black notes, can I?" You gestured to his hand, signalling to Sam that you wanted to place it in the correct place your self.

"Sure go right ahead," you pretended not to notice his smile growing even wider as you took his hand and rested it in the correct position on top of the piano. Surely his reaction was just in your head, right?

"Wait, I'll put my hand on yours and I'll tap what fingers you need to play the notes, does that make sense." Your explanation was convoluted but Sam just nodded giving you the green light.

You moved to rest your hand on top of his, leaning into him so that your right hand was atop of his right hand.

Blush crept up your neck, you prayed Sam didn't notice. Judging by how focused he was on your hand ontop of his hand, he seemed not to notice.

"Ready?" You questioned.

"Go easy with ne now," he joked, "it's my first time."

"Shut it winchester." You laughed. You loved it when Sam was sassy, he knew it too.

Gently you began to tap his fingers so he played the correct notes.

C C D C F E

C C D C F E

*click*

The sound of a camera stop you, spinning round to see what the source of the noise was.

Dean was stood beside the piano with a with eating grin on his face. "Cheese," he said sarcastically as he pocked his phone.

"Dean what are you-?" You began to ask but he cut you off.

"I'm going to show it to everyone on your guys' wedding day" he said nonchalantly, smirking.

"But we're not-"

"Sam and I aren't-"

"Why would you-?"

"That's so weird to say-"

You and Sam both began talking at the same time. Each of you growing extremely red. Your hands still on top of one another's.

"You both need to cut the bullshit!" He cried shaking his head. And with that Dean turned and left before calling down the hallway, "I'm going to the bar to get drunk, you better have confessed some feelings when I'm back cos I'm suck of hearing you mope about one another to me!"

You and Sam stared at eachother.

Silence.

You wanted to scream, or cry, or run away, just something. But you didn't know what to do. Even if you did, you were frozen. You just stared at Sam, eyes wide, shocked at Dean's outburst.

"Dean's right."

"what...?"

What!?!?

"My whole life I've always wanted to find my person you know." Sams eyes were facing down at the piano key's unable to meet yours. "And I thought I found people in the past, but all of them... well you know what happened."

Did Sam know about your silly crush? Did Dean tell him? You were going to kill him.

Or did he mean.... no he couldn't, could he? Could Sam really reciprocate your feelings. You swalled down the thought, not wanting to get your hopes high for nothing.

That's when Sam began to speak once again.

Of course you knew what happened. He'd told you in a moment of vulnerability in one of the first nights that to spent all night talking while researching a case. You knew eachother inside and out. You knew eachother darkest and deepest secrets. You knew eveything about eachother.

"And since then I've been so scared," he continued, "scared that if I got close to anyone that they would end up the same. Then you happened. We met you on a hunt and you've stuck with us ever since and I kept being drawn to you, and I hated myself for it. I wanted to keep you far away to protect you, but the more I wanted to protect you the more I wanted to..."

He trailed off and took in a large intake of breath, lifting his eyes with determination to meet yours.

"The more I wanted to be closer to you, the more I wanted to hold you to be there for you.. to kiss you." His eyes momentarily flicking down to your lips, your breath hitched.

"The more I relised I was in love with you, that I am in love with you." He flipped his hand so that he was now holding yours, lacing his fingers between yours. You didn't speak, you knew he had more to say and you were more that happy to listen. Your brain was going a hundred miles an hour, Sam's words were simultaneously grounding you and making your brain go into overdrive, but his hand holding yours assured you that this was real. This moment is real. It's real.

"So I talked to Dean about it, about you, alot and I've finally stopped fighting it. I know you can take care of yourself, and I know your not afraid of the risks of this job, the risks of being near me, as you've lived through so many horrors with me, you were by my side though everything and I don't think I can go on any longer without you knowing, I could never forgive myself for letting you get away..." He stopped speaking, he said what he wanted to. It was your turn to speak now. Yet you couldn't find the words, they all seemed lodged in your throat. You wanted to say it back but you couldn't, all you could do was look at Sam, your eyes wide.

"You don't have to say anything if you don't-" Sam began, trying to make you feel comfortable, he was worried you didn't feel the same. He wasn't aware that it was complete opposite reason as to why you couldn't speak. But you cut him off with a new found confidence.

"I swear to god Sam if you don't kiss me right now." You pleaded, avoiding his eyes.

A moment passed. Then you felt his hand leave yours. Panic surged through you. Oh god what had you done?

Then his hands were on your face and his lips found yours. You closed your eyes falling deeper and deeper into him, you were intoxicated, you couldn't get enough. His lips were rough and soft, neddy and patient all at the same time. It was so much, it would be too much, but it wasn't, it was perfect.

It felt like you and Sam were the only two people in the world. It felt right. All the horrors of life, all the monsters, demons, angels, eveything, none of it mattered in that moment. Nothing but the two of you existed in that moment.

And then all too soon he pulled away.

"I'm assuming you feel the same way?" He asked almost bashfully, redness creeping up his neck.

"Sam winchester, I love you and all your dorky-ness," you dramatically declared as Sam rolled his eyes, "and i-"

You were cut off by his lips finding yours once again. You were just where you wanted to be and for once the world seemed right, or at least it seemed okay with same by your side, or more accurately Sam's lips on yours.

"FINNALLY!"

You and Sam jumped away from one another, startled by a loud cry.

Dean was stood at the bottom of the corridor, his arms raised in the air in a sort of celebration.

"TOOK YOU BOTH LONG ENOUGH!"

You and Sam just looked and eachother and began to laugh.

"I guess he does have a point..." you commented between laughter.

"Yeah I guess that means we have to make up for lost time." He laughed, resting his hands in your hair.

"What do you mean?" You asked, playing along, ot was much more fun this way.

"Well I suppose I can think of a few things..." he trailed of suggestively, "what do you say?"

You smiled at him knowing exactly what he ment, and couldn't help but reply with what lead to this moment.

"Teach me."

[dandeaix-oomph]

two four six o fucking one

Ogata doesn't blink. "Only members of the production company are allowed."

"I was told I could come for a viewing."

"No," says Ogata, "you can't."

Koito hates this man. "I'll pay for everyone's supper," he bargains.

"No."

"I'll also get boba," Koito adds. Ogata still doesn't blink, but something has shifted in his eyes that convinces Koito he's on the right track. "I can get them right now, in fact. Or coffee too. Whatever. I'll get them if you'll let me in."

"The good boba?" Ogata clarifies. "The one near the ramen place? Not the one near the engineering campus?"

"The good boba," Koito promises, immediately pulling up the food delivery app on his phone. "So do we have a deal?"

"Buy a ticket for all three days of our showing and I'll consider it."

"Fine."

"Then deal." Ogata swipes his pass; the keycard reader pings and glows green. "After you."

Koito doesn't bother to thank him. He walks down the corridor. The backstage of their university theatre isn't big, and Koito has enough friends in the performing arts to know that most performers prefer to linger outside the hall or watch the rehearsals in the audience's seats. "Tsurumi is here today, right?"

"Obviously."

"Just to be sure," Koito supplies, "Tsukishima told me that sometimes Tsurumi leaves them to practise alone."

Ogata clicks his tongue impatiently. "Then shouldn't you ask before attempting to bribe me?"

"Hey! I'm not here for only Tsurumi!" That is only ninety percent of the reason. The other five is Tsukishima, and the rest is because Koito is bored. "So he's here?"

"Yes."

"Huh." Koito wonders if that means rehearsals are not going so well. He decides not to probe. "What's your role again? Tsukishima didn't mention much about this production."

In fact, Tsukishima has stared at him with such weariness when he brought up the topic that Koito decidedly aborts that line of conversation.

Ogata halts. He does not look impressed. "Do you even know that we're doing a musical this time?"

"I know that much," Koito huffs. "Les Misérables right?"

"Yes. I am playing Enjolras."

Koito double-takes. "You? Enjolras?"

"Yes, me. And Tsurumi is playing Javert. In case Tsukishima didn't -" At this point Ogata infuses a certain mockery into his tone, "- tell you. Again."

Koito hates hates hates Ogata Hyakunosuke. "Oh, he definitely did tell me that much," he sniffs, "as well as his schedule, and that he has casting problems."

"That's just some actors being unprofessional," Ogata dismisses. He pushes the door open. "Now head down the stairs and keep out of everyone's way."

"You don't need to tell me that," Koito grumbles, hastening down. The door to the hall opens and a burst of frigid air slaps him in the face. Someone's turned the air-conditioning too low again.

He picks a seat in the second row, near the aisle. Sugimoto is there too; from what Koito remembers, it’s because Kiroranke has to stay behind and can't drive Asirpa and Enonoka home.

But if outsiders aren't allowed, then couldn't Sugimoto wait outside too? He can pick them up after they are dismissed from rehearsals. That's what Tanigaki does, and he's dating Inkarmat -

Oh. Koito sees what's going on here. It seems Ogata is a little bitch who doesn't bother masking his favouritism.

Their theatre group have framed itself as a sort of service-oriented production, wherein their projects' ethos is to provide affordable yet quality theatre experience to the community. 

The production team itself is mostly made up of members and alumni from their university's various theatre clubs. Some, like Tsurumi and Kiroranke, are past professional performers turned coaches, their careers punctuated with the occasional contract acting. Others are members of the public that volunteered, including some elderly and more importantly, at-risk teenagers who figured they like the familial solidarity of this production team.

Community theatre, Koito thinks. Has a good ring to it. At least, it certainly appeals to potential sponsors. Koito knows this. After all, Koito's family is one of their sponsors.

Tsurumi is on stage now, his voice loud and powerful, his tone angrier and angrier until it swallows up Kiroranke's firm baritone.

"Every man is born in sin," he sings, "every man must choose his way."

The light dances off the edges of his cheeks and the strong lines of his back; arresting, mesmerising. There is power in every gesture, power in every tremble of his voice, and the audience gapes awestruck at him, looking up in worship of this man, great as a deity.

(And Koito he, he can't look away.)

"I think this scene is pretty much done,” Kiroranke is saying. “You can stand to be a tad more hysterical, but this is good too."

"I'll keep it in mind." Tsurumi stretches his back. "We’ll skip Asirpa's scenes too, there’s not much issues there. Let's focus on what needs focus. Run through the previous scenes: the earlier one with Fantine's death isn't satisfying."

"Respectfully," Inkarmat cuts in. She has been sitting cross-legged at the end of the stage. "It is hard for either of us to express the sincerity of a scene that tragic when both of us hate each other."

"I don't care about that," Tsurumi dismisses. "You are both professional actors, so I expect you to act like ones. Sort it out."

"Excuse me," Tsukishima calls out from a seat near the back. Koito hasn't noticed him, and startles. "But this is the first time we've seen such genuine animosity on set. We are too close to the deadline to pin our hopes on them working this out."

"I can switch with Inkarmat," Igogusa offers, "if necessary. I did Fantine before."

"But I prefer Inkarmat's voice for Fantine's solo." Tsurumi shakes his head. "Never mind that, we'll proceed as is for now. Let's take a ten minutes water break, and we'll do Scene Nine Heart Full of Love after. Our syncing for it has been horrendous."

-

Here’s the thing: when he is a young boy, Koito watches Tsurumi act on stage, and falls in love.

For the next three days, he whines about wanting to go into acting to his family, but got bored on the fourth. So he makes it a point to keep tabs on Tsurumi’s acting career, and attends every show that is put up.

Then he grows up, goes to university, and decides that he wants to experience living on campus.

Koito has already been living alone, even if it is in a loft at a highrise that his family bought. It’s only a fifteen minutes drive from the university, and two hours away from the family mansion.

But to actually live in a college residence is a much different experience. His brother has told him stories about it, about how it can be a mess but also how it feels like something of a coming-of-age ritual. Koito is curious, so Koito applies for campus housing.

Three things happen.

Firstly: he ends up rooming with Tsukishima, a graduate student. 

Secondly: he lasts six months.

Thirdly, and most importantly: he finds out that Tsukishima is in the same theatre production as Tsurumi.

The rest, as they say, is history.

-

Tsukishima does the sets, so even during the break, he looks distracted enough that Koito has to snap his fingers repeatedly by his ear before Tsukishima comes back into the moment. "Sorry, you were saying?"

"I got everyone some boba. From the stall near the hotpot place, not the one near engi'," Koito repeats, "but I got you your special order."

"Thank you," Tsukishima says as he accepts his drink, but the frown doesn't go away even as he sucks up the taro balls.

Koito folds his arms. "Hey," he begins, in a bid to distract, "Tsurumi pretty much call the shots huh?"

"He is technically our director." Tsukishima kneads between his eyes. “And producer. He’s split that role with me since he’s acting this time. Thankfully, we have Kiroranke and Inkarmat around, but they are feuding. I told Tsurumi that even though we are only a small independent production, we need to find more stagehands because of our choice of play  - but no, it’s all casting and finding the right actors and making sure they live up to their potential -”

“Don’t say that,” Koito defends, “this gives you much more control on what goes on, right? Isn’t that good?”

“What makes you think the actors are not all obnoxious egomaniacs?” Tsukishima points out tiredly. “We have the same problems every year. I told him we should have done black box this year and expand from there, but Tsurumi has a vision.”

“Maybe if you delegate more -”

“I did.” Tsukishima covers his eyes with a palm. “Usami is frighteningly competent, although the Nikaidou twins could not be given any autonomy. Also, I was planning to promote Tamai to assistant stage manager, but he dropped out last week." He drinks his boba stressfully. “We almost borrowed some crew from the university, except Hijikata has made it clear that he is not loaning out anymore students from the drama club.”

Koito does not know enough about theatre production to make more comments. “What if I hire some professionals? I mean, my family is a sponsor.”

“Then this would not be an independent charity production anymore. But thanks.” Tsukishima finishes his drink. “Right, I think I need to go check on the techs. If anyone starts crying, I’m off to the gents.”

“Why would anyone - ” Koito tries, “Tsukishima? Hey, don’t run away. Tsukishima!” but Tsukishima has already slipped away. 

Koito wanders back into the hall. Everyone tries to keep food off the stage, but Ienaga is munching on a doughnut while gesturing aggressively at the props, and no one is going to argue with Ienaga. 

He turns towards the seats and - never mind, Sugimoto is fussing over the kids as Shiraishi shares some silly anecdote with them again, while Ogata - Ogata? - hangs his arms over the back of the seat adjacent to Sugimoto. Koito doesn’t understand what is going on. Koito doesn’t want to understand what is going on. 

Then he sees Yuusaku standing by the fire exit and understands anyway.

(Frankly, Koito doesn’t understand what it’s like to hate his family. He loves his family. His brother is great and charismatic and his mother is affectionate and funny, and while there used to be some hostility with his father, that has passed after adolescence too.

But in the end, that’s none of his business.)

Koito hops up onto the stage in the end. He ignores Usami’s grin and heads straight for Edogai. “Hey,” he calls, “you do costumes, right?”

“Yes?” Edogai lowers his notebook. “Is there an issue?”

“I like what you did with Javert’s costume,” Koito tells him seriously, “it’s arresting.”

He spends the rest of the break discussing costumes edits until Tsurumi calls for them to clear the stage, get back to work now, and Koito returns to his seat.

Sugimoto turns to Koito. “Have you seen them rehearse this scene before?”

“No.” Koito leans forward. “Have you?”

“Yeah. Thing is, all three of them don’t have a strong enough presence to complement each other, so Tsurumi has been pretty unhappy about it. I tried coaching Umeko on her gestures to make up for her voice, but there’s only so much she can do.” Sugimoto pauses. “However, Yuusaku has been stepping up. Apparently Ogata gave him tips.”

“Ogata?” Koito is usually not this much of a gossip. “I thought he hates Yuusaku?”

“He does, but Tsurumi made him help Yuusaku.” Sugimoto chuckles. “He can’t say no to that, can he?”

That is devious. Koito knows there is a reason why he is so mesmerised by Tsurumi. “I bet he’s pissed.”

“Fluffed up like a cat,” Sugimoto agrees. “He -”

“Silence from the house, please,” Tsurumi announces, and Sugimoto immediately faces back towards the front. “Thank you. This is Koito’s first viewing; it won’t do if you keep distracting him, Sugimoto. Koito - apologies for not greeting you, I’ve been busy.”

He noticed me! He noticed! “No worries!” Koito shouts, feeling a little light-headed. Sugimoto shushes him. 

Tsurumi smiles from the stage. Smiles at Koito, god, the brilliance of his smile, the soft curve of his lips - “Right then, let’s continue. We’ll run through the scene one time, and then repeat once more with music.”

Koito sinks back into his seat. He’s ready to combust. 

Solemnly, Sugimoto reaches over to the box of unclaimed boba and passes a cup to him.

-

And then Umeko cries when Tsurumi yells too harshly at her. 

Tsukishima makes eye contact with Koito from the stage. His eyes resemble that of a man who has walked in and out of hell. 

Koito considers getting Tsukishima some vouchers for that spa he likes so much.

-

For dinner, Inkarmat volunteers to greet the delivery man. 

“What’s going on?” Koito asks, and receives a round of sniggers.

“Tanigaki works the night shift for this eatery,” Ariko explains. Cikapasi nods fervently.

“Right,” Koito says slowly. “I see,” and mourns for his empty stomach. Sympathetically, Ariko passes him a bag of chips. 

They get their dinner eventually. Tsurumi asks Koito on his opinions about the musical, you are our sponsor after all, did we meet your expectations?

Frankly, the musical can catch fire midway and implode in a fiery wreck for all Koito cares. The only thing that matters is that Tsurumi is involved. “Of course,” Koito answers excitedly, “it’s great!”

Tsurumi smiles again. “That’s good,” he says.

Koito feels like his heart is about to leap out of his chest and perform a pirouette.

Then they finish their dinner, dry-run one last time, and the kids have to go home. Practice grinds to a halt as Sugimoto waves his goodbye, gives Shiraishi a half-hug, and whisks the children away.

Koito fiddles with his phone, posting weird selfies on his InstaStory and Snapchat and snorts when people comment ridiculous answers on his guess where I am poll. He barely notices when Tsukishima sits down on the seat beside. “I imagine it must be pretty boring.”

“Hm?” Koito shrugs, putting his phone away. “I think it’s fine. All rehearsals have their boring parts. At least there’s drama.”

Tsukishima exhales deeply. “I don’t like this kind of drama.” His head lolls when he leans back, propping himself up by the elbows. "Will you be coming over again?"

"I don't know." Koito pouts. "Will Tsurumi want me here?"

"Well, you are a sponsor."

Koito lets out a long-suffering whine. "Then what can I do? I can't impose, no matter how much I want to see him!" He slumps against a seat, cheek resting on the back of his arm. “I just want to hop on his dick.”

“I know, Koito. I have known you for two years and five months.”

Koito eyes him. “You keep track of that?”

“It’s not hard,” Tsukishima dismisses, “I simply subtracted the months from the first day of the academic year when I was a graduate student.”

“Smart.”

“Not smart, just sensible.”

Koito makes a face. “Too practical. I don’t want to know whether I can come over, I want to know if Tsurumi will want me to come to rehearsals.”

“And like I said, he doesn’t not want you here,” Tsukishima returns, “but based on personal experience, I would advise against coming over too often. It gives everyone unnecessary stress.” He pauses. “The boba is good though.”

“I’ll get it again the next time I’m over.” As his mother always says, if they have the money to spare, then they might as well use it to cheer up other people.

(People-pleaser, his father has chastised lightly even as he hands over the month’s paycheck. This, Koito thinks, must be why Koito Heinojou decides to pursue a second major in social work.)

"You're not unwelcomed, Koito," Tsukishima emphasises. "I am glad that you're here to show your support. But when money is in the picture… you get it, don't you?"

"Yeah, don't sweat it." His wealth may have made him insensitive at times, but he isn’t stupid. Rich people are snakes, or at least surrounded by them; dealing with them and their assistants take a certain amount of astuteness. "I'll give you a heads-up a few days before I come over."

"Thank you, Koito. I really appreciate that."

Koito waves a hand. "It's no problem."

-

It takes five days.

Tsukishima frowns. "Didn't you say -"

"I forgot," Koito lies. In actuality, he has decided to pop by on a whim, and is further emboldened when he meets Inkarmat on the way up. "Anyway, Inkarmat says it's fine.”

“Sure she did,” Tsukishima counters dryly, “and did she tell you that Tsurumi would only be coming in later for an hour today?”

“What!” Koito doesn’t know that. “But he will be here?”

Tsukishima simply shakes his head. "If this is going to be a regular thing," he informs, "then you'd better make yourself useful."

Which is how Koito finds himself at the backstage, helping touch-up what little make-up has to be put on for characterisation purposes.

"Eponine's make-up," Inkarmat mutters, hovering over Igogusa, "must smear just right. She is a little rough around the edges, so her makeup must reveal that."

Koito carefully curls Igogusa's lashes. "This is stage-acting, not a film, you know? The audience will be watching for big movements. They won't be close enough to notice the details."

"Even if most of the audience won't see it, some of them can," Inkarmat chides, "and most importantly, as actors, we can feel the difference. So smear it carefully with your fingers - she wants to be a lady for Marius, but this isn't who she is, and deep down, she knows that too."

For a while, the only thing that can be heard is the white noise in the background. Then: "Inkarmat," Igogusa remarks softly, "you should be the one playing as Eponine."

Inkarmat shakes her head. "Tsurumi knows what he's doing," she declares. "Right, now I'm going to try and get into Fantine's headspace to see if her impressive kindness can tamper down my aggressiveness towards - you know. Catch you later." She turns to leave, only to pause to nod firmly at Koito. "Do your job."

"Of course!" Koito rubs the kohl onto Igogusa's eyelids. He'll give her the hottest smokey eyes that'll rival those beauty youtubers - which he knows for a fact that he can definitely accomplish, because he is added into their group chats and spends spa day with them.

"Koito," Igogusa says, later, when Koito decides to do her hair too because he fucking adores that volume, it has so much potential for elaborate hairstyles - "You are a very good friend to Tsukishima, aren't you?"

"Buh-what? I mean, I try." Koito contemplates this. "I feel like it's mostly Tsukishima being a good friend to me."

Igogusa laughs, light but throaty. "He does that," she agrees, "but that also shows that he cares. He only mothers the people he cares about. So if he cares about you…" Her face splits into a brilliant grin. "You must have been a good person. Thank you for being there for him."