Summary: Reassurances pass from one person to the next.
AN: idek, september is a hard month for a JE fan, it seems. I guess my point is, there's nothing we can do about what happens, and you just have to enjoy what's going on right now and hope for the best, and in the end your favorites are still your favorites, and the boys who are friends will still be friends. If they can manage to keep their smiles on and go out there and get it done, then so can we.
“It’ll be fine,” Taiyou says, and he gives them his warmest, most reassuring smile. “You’ll see.”
“Of course it will,” Shoon replies after a long moment, answering for all three of them, and after another second Yabu and Hikaru manage smiles too.
You can’t help but smile, really, when Taiyou starts it.
“It’ll be fine,” Yabu says firmly, desperately, because it has to be fine and neither of them, none of them, have any choice.
Hikaru swallows his complaints about the work and the song and the tiny bandmates and the five minute mark, and gives himself a shake.
“Yeah,” he agrees, looking Yabu in the eye to show he’s serious, now, “yeah, okay. Let’s do it.”
“It’ll be fine,” Hasshi says, his voice stubborn and too loud. It’s hard to keep on looking like he means it, but he knows that Takaki and Inoo-chan and Dai-chan wouldn’t want him to give up.
Besides, Shintarou’s been looking feisty lately, and Hasshi definitely isn’t going to lose to another Morimoto.
“Get up!” Hasshi demands, kicking at Taku and Sanada’s feet, ignoring the way they glare up at him from the floor. “Practice isn’t over!”
People leave Shounen Club all the time, Hasshi sets his jaw as they start over again, and it’s up to whoever’s left to level up and fill in the spaces.
“It’ll be fine!” Sanada insists, pushing a reluctant Nozawa forward. “You sing, you dance, you’re cute, it’ll all be fine. Besides, Taku could be kind of a pill sometimes anyway.”
Before Nozawa can protest any further, Sanada pulls them to a halt in front of a thoughtful Koyama and a curious Hasshi, and explains in great and breathless detail how the best part about the whole thing is that they won’t even have to change the costume sizes or the schedule.
“Well,” Koyama says, “let’s try it.”
“Please take care of me,” Nozawa mumbles, wretched with embarrassment.
“It’ll be fine,” Kawai brushes off Shoon’s concerns about skill sets and choreography as he slings an arm around Shoon’s shoulders. “It’ll be fun!”
“I feel badly about it,” Shoon starts, but Tottsu tells him not to bother, that even if he were only half as acrobatic as he is, it would still be miles better than Toshin, and they both laugh when Shoon comments that he’s hardly Toshin.
“Believe me,” Kawai rolls his eyes, “that’s for the best. Shoon is just fine with us.”
“Then I’ll do my best,” Shoon replies, squaring his shoulders.
“It’ll be fine,” Fujigaya offers, but even he seems flatter than usual, and Kawai and Goseki just grunt in reply. With Fujigaya they don’t have to pretend, like they have all day, that all the ups and downs are just fine with them.
Neither one of them have said out loud that maybe this whole concert thing is more trouble than its worth, but Fujigaya can see the thought in both Kawai and Goseki’s eyes.
Fujigaya’s face feels tired from keeping his smile on all day; he can’t imagine how it is for them. The best he can to is to take them out, away, just for a little while, long enough for all their cheek muscles to unkink.
“Okay,” Goseki finally says, touching Kawai’s arm, and Kawai nods.
They both thank Fujigaya with hugs as they all get up, but Fujigaya doesn’t feel that he deserves it so much. He didn’t do much; in his experience, A.B.C. always manages in their own way.
“It’ll be fine,” Tsuka answers Senga’s hesitant questions about A.B.C.-Z’s practices. That’s what Kawai said when they were informed officially, and that’s what Tottsu said to cut off Hasshi’s flustered apologies the first day of practice. It’s what Goseki mouthed to Shoon when they caught eyes across the practice room.
“Do you think it will really?” Senga asks, chewing his lower lip.
Senga is earnest and adorable, and Tsuka doesn’t mind that he’s probably more worried about how it will reflect on Kis-My-Ft2 if the concerts go badly than exactly what the sudden lineup changes mean.
Senga shakes his head. “Tsuka-chan’s strong, ne. If it were me, if it were Kisumai, I’d be really scared right now.”
“It’ll be fine,” Tsuka repeats, gently and simply, because that’s what they all tell each other, and they don’t all have to believe it all the time, because there’s the others to remind them.
That’s where the real strength is, Tsuka learned a long time ago. That’s what makes them a unit.
“It all turned out fine,” Shoon says, adjusting his cell phone against his shoulder, the distance between them crackling over the line. “In the end.”
“See?” Taiyou says, smug and proud. “I told you so.”