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missblanchette · 6 years ago

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Rumor Has It [1/10]

Series: Hypnosis Mic

Characters: Izanami Hifumi/Yumeno Gentaro

Rating: T

Summary: Thousands of hearts broke that day. With tears shed and cries resounding to the heavens, each grief-stricken woman wondered how this could possibly happen. In the year 20XX of the H. Era, Matenrou’s MC GIGOLO and Fling Posse’s MC Phantom were officially in a relationship.

Except they weren’t, actually.

Words: 3,159

Notes: A play on the fake dating trope, in which people think Hifumi and Gentaro are dating... but they’re not --

(but then they do!)

ko-fi // You can read this on AO3! Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy!

( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ

Ch. 1: In the Wrong Place to Be

Like most things SNS, Gentaro learned about this particular scandal through Ramuda. That wasn't to say he lived under a rock, but it was simply a fact that Ramuda lived and breathed social networking. So when Gentaro woke up, he wasn't surprised to see three hundred-plus messages in the Fling Posse group chat. Honestly, there were days where there were more and he had half the mind to ignore them. What did surprise him, though, was the influx of notifications he received -- and was currently receiving, given the fourth-rate massage his hand underwent from all the buzzing -- on his Twitter account. Usually, this sort of activity only occurred when he published a new novel (and even then, not at this rate, he regretted to say) but nothing of that sort had happened. Disregarding all that drivel, he opened up Fling Posse's group chat to be met with a barrage of messages calling him out.

Ramuda's next text contained an image and Gentaro's brain took a few seconds to process it before terror crashed onto him like a tidal wave of ice water.

Tapping it, he zoomed in and his blood pressure skyrocketed. There was no denying what it was: though angled from a distance, the subjects of the photo were clearly him and one Izanami Hifumi sitting closely together. By their lonesome at a table and empty champagne glasses littered in front of them, Hifumi's fingertips tilted his head back with an obnoxious grin while Gentaro's hand pressed against his chest; looking closer, his veins nearly popped at how hard he clutched the rose in Hifumi’s breast pocket. Above them, the lights of the club danced off their faces and highlighted the glaring glints in their gazes.

Yet, to anyone else, it looked like anything but.

Heaving a sigh, Gentaro ran a hand through his hair. His phone continued to blow up and dread crept upon him as the realization of what those Twitter notifications were about sank in. He'd made many mistakes before, of which he would admit to no one ever, but last night was probably the worst decision of his life.

No, he’d have to retract that statement. It definitely was the worst decision of his entire existence.

(the night before)

Like any good writer, Gentaro set out to do his research before working on his next novel. This time around, he wanted to play with a more mature theme -- a change to his usual lightheartedness, but ultimately something that'd have a happy ending as well -- and somehow or another, one character was a host. This singular character quickly became a source of frustration, the very thought of them bringing an unwelcome reminder of another host that Gentaro bemoaned to know. But no matter how many other occupations he looked into, no matter how many changes he made to the story, no matter how much he forced the character into another role, a host suited them best. In the end, Gentaro supposed, who was he to deny his works from claiming their own life and so he deigned himself to their existence.

Nonetheless, the bigger issue was that he didn't know much about host clubs and that wouldn't do. His research, unfortunately, led him to Shinjuku but he grit his teeth and bared it. This was about the quality of his work and that far outweighed his pride.

Raised amidst the rhythm of Shibuya, Gentaro was no stranger to bustling crowds and loud lights but Kabukicho's nightlife roared and raved. True to its title of "The Sleepless Town," the neon signs acted as miniature suns and the hordes of people multiplied by the second. With no specific destination in mind, Gentaro followed along the flow of the crowd in search of a host club to observe. As expected, Kabukicho had no shortage of host clubs and within minutes, the young hosts wandering around to accost new clients flocked around him. They all flashed their best smiles and enticed him with flattery but the host that won him over was bright-eyed and plucky, an interesting sense of innocence amongst the red light district. He lead him to TOP DANDY, a “paradise" he called it, and something in Gentaro's stomach twisted. The name sounded familiar, but he couldn't place it and pushed the feeling away.

His gut feeling hit back tenfold, though, as they entered the club and the portraits of TOP DANDY's top hosts for the past month greeted him. Izanami Hifumi's image stared at him, winking with a hand outstretched as if offering to whisk him away. Gentaro readied a lie to the host assisting him, that he realized he was short on cash and couldn't possibly spend the night here, when he noticed that Hifumi's portrait wasn't at the very top of the stairs. For all Hifumi boasted about being Shinjuku's number one host, it seemed that someone had managed to steal the title from him -- at least for the time being. Barely glancing at this month's number one, Gentaro’s lips curved up. He already had a very good idea as to whom his choice of host would be.

For experience's sake, he feigned ignorance at the menu of hosts and went through with the first timer's rotation. With overpriced food and drinks ordered and conversations filled with empty words, Gentaro finally understood the appeal of host clubs. Never had he been one for attention, but each host that came by was a new listener to his tall tales. To one, he was a university student looking for a way to de-stress; to another, he was the son of a well off family and had some extra cash to blow; to the host entertaining him now, he was a sex worker in need of an ear for his woes. They ate his lies up, their sympathy as fake as their suits and smiles. How fascinating, he mused, that they were paid to act as so. Each brush of their hands, each sweet nothing, each hollow compassion sent Gentaro's mind running wild as to what fates befell these men to lead them to this so-called paradise. The notebook in his pocket itched to be written in, but he ignored its call in favor of the moment.

Good-byes were exchanged with his current host as time ran out and the host called for the next one to step up. With a false promise given to see him again soon, Gentaro wondered what his next host would be like -- what kind of persona he would show him and what kind of untruths he himself would hear.

How easy, however, it was to fall into the paradise's trap that he'd just about forgotten the one he dreaded chancing upon.

"Good evening, lovely kitten~" A honeyed voice buzzed annoyingly in his ears and Gentaro's heart dropped. Sauntering over, Izanami Hifumi's piss yellow eyes gave him a once over. "Oh? Do tell, have we met before?"

Sleeve hiding his mouth, Gentaro batted his lashes and pitched his voice higher. "I do not believen I have met someone as roguish as thou before."

Hifumi laughed heartily, a strident noise that pierced the air, as he took a seat next to him. Gentaro's lips twitched.

"Your style and manner of speaking is quite unique, no?" he purred. His eyes flashed dangerously. "It reminds me of someone I know. I don't suppose you're familiar with him, are you?"

"My, my, wheren thou manners? Picken on mine person and interrogating myself like this? Thou art rather rude for a host," Gentaro said, voice light but words sharp.

"Oh, forgive me, dear kitten. How's about a drink to make up for my poor behavior?" Hifumi gestured towards the champagne glasses on the table, a tilt to his head. "Although, if I may be blunt, you're rather rude yourself, no? Won't you let me see your face?"

Gentaro's frown deepened into a scowl, pressing his sleeve closer and peering up at him. "Mayhaps a drink will allowen me to forgive thou."

Hifumi hummed. "Is there any brand you prefer, sweet kitten?"

"Thine cheapest, if thou wilst."

"Ah, a frugal spender, I see. Maybe a host club isn't the best way to spend the night?"

"How I deciden to spend mine nights is mine business."

A wry smile on his face, Hifumi called the help over for a bottle of Café de Paris and poured out a drink for the both of them. With the shimmery, gold liquid sloshing against the clear champagne glasses, Hifumi held one out to him.

"Well, I do believe we got off on the wrong foot tonight, hm? Let's drink and start over, shall we?" Sultry, sweet words he’d spoken, hiding a biting tone underneath them.

Mutely, Gentaro plucked the champagne flute from his hand while trying to avoid as much contact as possible. Ever so briefly, their fingertips touched and a chill ran through.

Raising his glass towards him, Hifumi said, "Why don't we have a toast... oh, I'm sorry, I don't believe I caught your name?"

Lowering his hand enough to get a drink in, Gentaro fluttered his lashes as he held the champagne glass between their faces. Through the ambrosia of wine, Hifumi's features wavered and contorted -- the image akin to a pathetic wolf pup. In a pitch closer to his natural voice, Gentaro said, "Why don't thou take a guess, Izanami Hifumi?" before downing the drink all in one go.

Hifumi watched as he drank, letting out that annoying laugh of his as Gentaro set the glass down on the table with a dull clunk. Chugging his own drink down, Hifumi scrutinized him through lidded eyes.

"I had a feeling it was you, Yumeno-sensei." He drawled out his title, popping open the bottle to refill their glasses. Gentaro resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "What a funny, little game you've played."

"A host club is for the client's entertainment, isn't it? What fun is it if I can't play around with my hosts?" Hifumi handed him his glass and he took it, swigging the wine in circles.

"Very true, my darling Yumeno-sensei." Gentaro willed himself to stay calm at the endearment. "Now, what brings you here tonight?"

Peering into the contents of his glass as if he could drown himself in it, Gentaro let out a hum. "It wasn't a lie when I said it's none of your business."

"Yumeno-sensei, your words wound me." The hurt in his voice over-exaggerated, Hifumi placed a hand over his chest.

"Then my goal has been accomplished," Gentaro said, not sparing him a glance.

"Now, now, this is a place to let loose and forget your worries. Let's set aside any animosity for tonight and have some fun, hm?" He leaned in closer, their shoulders bumping against each other. Out of instinct, Gentaro shifted away. "I truly am curious."

For a moment, Gentaro considered Hifumi. Looking back, he leaned against the sofa, one foot posed atop the other leg's knee rather casually. The light danced around his visage, a glint in his eyes and his smile a sneer as it was upon the battle stage. Perhaps he was curious, perhaps he wasn't. What did it matter when they were both liars in this establishment? Another story bubbling to life, Gentaro simpered.

"Well, if you must know --" He gulped his drink and set it down. "-- I was considering becoming a host myself."

Giving him an incredulous look, Hifumi huffed out a laugh. "You? A host?"

"If someone as asinine as yourself can make it, then surely I can, too." He held his glass out for a refill. "Matenrou may have won the battle season, but perhaps I can top the host rankings."

Tipping the bottle into his glass, Hifumi nodded his head in beat with the liquid pouring in.

"I believe you lack the, ah, charisma to hold such a position. Though, maybe your little quirk --" He glanced at his clothes. "-- will draw in some appeal."

Jaw clenching, Gentaro clinked his glass up against the bottle's neck with more force than necessary. "As your own quirky personality does?"

Hifumi's brow creased the slightest bit and Gentaro hid his chuckle with a sip of his drink.

"No need to fret about your beloved title. The truth is I was merely curious about the host club experience. Personal research, if you will," he said, telling a half-lie.

"Researching a host club? Interesting~" Hifumi folded his hands and rested his chin upon his fingers, eyeing him all the while. “How’s it coming along for you?”

Gesturing vaguely, Gentaro shrugged. “Adequately.”

“Only adequately?” Suddenly, Hifumi drew in towards him, the smell of champagne and ginger cologne wafting through his nose. He took his chin between his fingers and lifted his head up, irises the color of piss meeting emerald. A smirk marred his face. "You know, if it’s research you wanted, you simply could’ve asked me."

Fighting the urge to strangle him right then and there, Gentaro returned his grin with one as cold as Mt. Fuji’s peak during the winter’s apex.

"Perhaps so, but surely there must be a reason you're only the number two host this month."

Hifumi's smirk faltered as his own grew. A hand trailing up his chest, Gentaro’s grip tightened around the rose in Hifumi’s breast pocket and he pressed it in as if the nub could wound him. With a forceful pat, he pushed him away.

"I hate to interrupt your fun --" A tenor voice broke in. Approaching them was another host, younger and chipper than Hifumi. In fact, it was the host who'd usurped Hifumi's reign for the month. "-- but I believe it's my turn with our lovely client."

While he'd been hoping to meet him, Gentaro's mood had been soured enough. Taking the opportunity to escape, he spoke up. "As much as I wish to continue this night, I'm afraid I've got a family emergency and must return home. May I please have the check?"

Whereas this month's number one host looked at him in sympathy, Hifumi raised an eyebrow.

"I'm terribly sorry to hear that," the host said and requested the check from the help. "Hopefully when things are better, you'll find it in your heart to return. After all, I'm always here to lend an ear."

"Indeed." Hifumi locked eyes with Gentaro. "Let this paradise whisk your worries away. We'll welcome you with open arms, Yumeno-sensei."

Placing the cash in the envelope, Gentaro handed the check back with a stilted smile.

"Of course, I will," he lied.

Clicking his tongue, Gentaro shoved the memory of last night into the deepest crevices of his mind. He turned his attention back to Fling Posse's group chat, sending them reassuring platitudes that it was nothing for even he couldn't bring himself to quip back at Ramuda for this. Next up was turning off the bombardment of notifications he continued to receive.

The slew of "WHO DOES @not_yumenogentaro THINK HE IS??", "@not_yumenogentaro DOESN'T DESERVE HIFUMI!!!", and "DIE @not_yumenogentaro" met his glazed over gaze and Gentaro let out the smallest of sighs when his phone finally stopped vibrating -- of which turned into a sigh of irritation when he slipped into Twitter's moments page. Laid atop that God forsaken picture of him and Hifumi was the headline "Matenrou's MC GIGOLO and Fling Posse's MC Phantom's hook up.”

Personal research turned personal hell. All he'd meant to do was gather information for his novel, and here he ended up caught up in gossip blown out of proportion. He would've thought that the clients of a host club would’ve been more focused on their hosts, but he supposed that even in paradise there were wandering eyes.

He almost locked his phone right there and then, but curiosity was a tempting beast. Clicking on the moment, he skimmed through tweets of mindless speculation and baseless accusations until he found a certain someone's statement on the whole debacle.

Soul descending into the Sanzu River, Gentaro pinched the space between his eyebrows and counted to ten. For the sake of his sanity, he turned off his phone and set it to the side. In times like these, it was best to ignore everything and move on. It would blow over eventually, though hopefully "eventually" would be sooner rather than later. On the bright side, he had to work on his manuscript anyways and could lock himself inside his room until the rumor mill stopped tilling.

Whatever gods may be, it seemed, hated him and the ring of his doorbell broke the calm he'd worked himself into. Neither expecting anyone nor a package, Gentaro hulled himself out of his bed to see what anyone would possibly want at eight o'clock in the morning. A look to the intercom showed one of his neighbors standing at his door, her face white as a sheet and brows furrowed. Gentaro set aside the sinking feeling in his stomach.

"Good morning, Sato-san," he said upon opening the door. The smell of iron hit his nose, making his face pinch together. "May I help you with some... thing...?"

"Good morning, Yumeno-san. I just wanted to let you know about, ah... that."

She didn't need to point for him to notice what had happened to his door. The once white paint had been doused over with red -- blood, actually, given the scent that permeated throughout the hallway -- with nary a spot left clean. Though the rusty hue indicated it'd been splattered on some hours ago, the red drops still held a bright sheen to them. From top to bottom, a message was written in scratchy handwriting.

STAY AWAY FROM HIFUMI OR ELSE

His own blood ran cold. Mayhaps, Gentaro thought, that simply ignoring the problem would be harder than he expected.

"Are you okay, Yumeno-san?"

"Yes. Thank you for letting me know about this, Sato-san." The smile he put on required a little more effort than usual to wear. "People do the most outrageous things nowadays, don't you think?"

She hesitantly nodded, giving him an unsure chuckle before bidding him goodbye and leaving him alone. Gentaro pursed his lips.

Threats behind a screen were one thing, but one personally delivered to his front door was a whole different level. Eyes running over the message again, he shuddered to think where the writer had gotten that much blood in the first place. A look along the hallway showed no trail left behind, no sign that anyone had gone into the building and defaced his door. Deranged as whomever it was who did this, they certainly knew not to get caught in the act.

With his life at the ire of thousands of women, a million thoughts ran through Gentaro's head -- whether this was an empty threat or not, whether this was worth reporting or not, whether he should be scared or not. All in all, there was one thing Gentaro knew for certain: he had to settle this matter with Izanami Hifumi. Quickly.

#hypnosis microphone #hypnosis mic #hypmic #hifugen #genhifu

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