Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

In a darkened room at a seedy net cafe somewhere in the city, a young man smiled to himself as he finished putting together a social media post: a set of four blurry photographs of a well-known celebrity idol, out and about with a blond woman hanging off his arm. In one photo, the two even snuck in for a kiss—seemingly oblivious to the dangers of sharing such a tryst out in the open. But their lack of caution would be their undoing. All the young man had to do was add a suitably scandalous caption and the relevant hashtags, and the dominoes would fall of their own accord…

“You can blame this on the misfortune of your birth,” the young man said quietly to himself. With a click, the post was published.

Now all that remained was to wait for the numbers to roll in, but the man had no interest in monitoring the post’s engagement. He felt confident the internet would work its dirty magic without his supervision. He packed his bag, put his sunglasses back on his face, and left the cafe.

- - -

Within twenty four hours, that singular post had erupted into a full-on scandal.

It was the perfect storm. Garma Zabi—Zeon Entertainment’s star idol and the public’s darling—caught on camera sharing a moment of intimacy with a woman presumed to be a romantic partner. The photos from an anonymous, throwaway account circulated on social media like wildfire, with many debating whether the photos were even real before news outlets were able to confirm their veracity. It took only a handful of hours before nosy netizens had ferreted out the woman’s identity: Icelina Eschonbach, the daughter of a prominent politician. The rumors spiraled out of control. Aren’t idols forbidden from romantic relationships? What was the younger brother of a prominent corporation's CEO doing getting cozy with a politician’s daughter—could this be a sign that Zeon Entertainment was trying to win itself political favors? To what end?

And then there were the fans—an untold number of women and girls who had bought into the parasocial fantasy all idols peddle, and now felt as slighted as if they’d caught their own boyfriend in bed with another girl. The social media posts were vicious, hyperbolic, and unflinching. They felt Garma owed them the illusion of his availability, and to see him so intimate with someone else was a betrayal of the highest order. The fans demanded blood.

Zeon Entertainment tried everything to quiet the scandal, though attempts to distract the public with exciting new announcements were largely seen for what they were. Zeon even tried to trace the post back to its original poster, hoping to bring legal action against them—but the tipster had gone to great lengths to preserve their anonymity, posting from a fresh account tied to a bogus email and obfuscating their IP address. They'd even scrubbed the metadata from the photos, leaving no clues as to who might have taken them. The investigation went nowhere. The fans’ anger was insatiable. The public clamored for a reckoning.

Amid this acrid atmosphere, Garma Zabi announced his resignation from idol work & departure from the industry at large at a press conference less than a week after the scandal broke. 

“I’ve betrayed the trust of my fans—without whom I could never have gotten to where I am today. For this, I express my deepest regret…”

His remorse, at least, seemed genuine.

From his green room in a Zeon Entertainment building across town, a certain blond idol watched the press conference bemusedly on his phone. To the young man whose meteoric rise to fame had earned him the nickname “The Red Comet,” someone like Garma Zabi was not simply a fellow entertainment industry peer—he was a rival. His departure marked one fewer big name to compete with for the world’s attention. 

That’s one down…

A knock on the door startled the young idol from his thoughts.

“Char?” A familiar voice came through from the hall. “You decent?”

Char took a moment to put his sunglasses back on his face before responding.

“That you, Mallygan? Come on in.”

The door swung open. A plain-looking young man in a grey suit slipped into the room, clipboard in hand—Char’s producer. He frowned when he saw Char’s sunglasses.

“You’re going to ruin your eyes doing that, you know,” Mallygan scolded him.

“Too late,” said Char. “What’s up? Are they ready for me?”

“Not yet,” Mallygan answered. “Actually, we’ve had to shuffle your schedule around a bit on short notice. You’re not going on until three now.” He sighed a little in frustration. “It’s not a live broadcast, thankfully, so they were fine with us having to push it back a couple hours…”

“What?” Char frowned. “Why the delay?”

“We had to make room for a really important meeting. Couldn’t wait,” Mallygan said, looking down at the clipboard. “Direct orders from the higher-ups…” His eyes returned to Char’s. “It sounds like you’re being reassigned to a duo act.”

“A duo?” Char’s frown deepened. “Am I not profitable enough on my own?”

“I don’t know all the details,” Mallygan said, shrugging. “But from the sound of things, it’s a decision we don’t get a say in. The meeting’s in ten minutes—supposedly it’s to introduce you to your new partner.”

“And they had to derail my entire day for it…” Char muttered to himself. He stood up, letting out a sigh of resignation. “Fine. If it’s what the higher-ups want, then it is what it is.”

“That’s the spirit,” said Mallygan. He tucked the clipboard under one arm, then indicated to the door with his thumb. “Dren’s already on the eighth floor. Let’s not keep him waiting.”

* * *

The meeting room on the eighth floor was mostly empty when Char and Mallygan arrived; it was a much larger space than their appointment required. Char’s manager Dren was sitting near the door, tapping his fingers impatiently on the table—he looked about as irritated as Char felt at having his schedule rearranged on short notice. Across from him on the far side of the table was a glasses-wearing admin assistant Char recognized as Cameron Bloom, one of the company president’s lackeys. Seated next to him, though, was a face that looked mildly familiar but whom Char couldn’t immediately place: a slightly older man with wavy blue-green hair, a mustache to match, and tired-looking eyes. He was dressed in a fairly plain black suit, so Char guessed he was another admin staffer. Guess I beat my new “partner” here…

“Good, we’re all here,” Cameron adjusted his glasses, glancing down at the file in his hands. Char started—We’re “all” here?—but before he could respond, Cameron continued: “First—Mr. Aznable, rest assured that you aren’t in any trouble. Quite the opposite, actually: the executive suite has been pleased with your work so far. The Red Comet is one of Zeon’s top idols for a reason… which is why President Gihren does not take your reassignment lightly.”

“My…?” said Char, frowning.

“The company president would like to try a bold new direction for you,” Cameron went on. “Ensemble acts are gaining popularity of late, and we’d like you to re-debut as one half of a new duo. Think of it as the next stage in the Red Comet’s evolution.”

Char had his suspicions, but he chose not to say anything. Making such a big change to one of their most successful acts, immediately on the heels of Garma Zabi’s press conference—it couldn’t have been a coincidence. 

“Alright,” said Char. “So then, my partner is…?”

All eyes fell on the green-haired man. 

“Me, I think,” the man answered, straightening up. “My name is Challia Bull. Er… until now I’ve just been working odd jobs as a production assistant, but I do have some previous experience with performing… A-anyway, I will do my best to live up to your expectations—!”

“You’re kidding,” Dren barely let him finish before interjecting, though his outburst was directed more at the lackey than the current speaker. 

“I’m quite serious,” Cameron countered, pushing his glasses up his nose. “The company president insisted that Mr. Bull’s talent is the real thing—he just needs the right environment for it to flourish. Gihren Zabi has high hopes for the two of you.”

Despite the praise, Challia didn’t seem particularly pleased to hear it. His gaze was fixed down and off to the side, seemingly trying to look anywhere other than at the others’ faces. Char got the sense that he, too, was being pushed into this new assignment against his will. 

A production assistant with “some” previous experience… I suppose that’s better than a complete newbie, but what’s Gihren doing looking for talent in the production staff? There’s something fishy here no matter how you slice it. His face isn’t too bad, at least… 

“Oh!” said Char suddenly, tapping his palm with his fist in recognition. Challia looked up. “I know where I’ve seen that face before—you’re ‘the man from Jupiter,’ aren’t you?”

“Huh?” said Mallygan.

“The mustache threw me, but I knew your name sounded familiar,” said Char. “You were an internet sensation when I was in school. I’d been wondering where you went after that…”

Challia furtively glanced away.

“That’s all in the past…” he said, refusing to meet Char’s gaze. “I’d actually prefer not to discuss it, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course,” said Char. Considering what had happened to Jupiter, he supposed he didn’t fault the man for not wanting to talk about it. Char wondered if he’d grown the mustache to help hide the face that had once been all over social media… “It was rude of me to bring it up. My apologies.”

“Happens all the time…”

“In any case,” Cameron continued, clearing his throat. “You two will be working together from now on, so do try to get along. We’ve prepared a couple of songs for your debut single and later EP, and both your rehearsals and promotional interviews have already been scheduled in the leadup to the single’s release. Here’s a copy of the schedule—this should go without saying, but if there are scheduling conflicts then please cancel your existing commitments. Your new act will need to take priority.” 

The lackey handed Dren a printout, which the manager snatched from his hand with a bit more force than necessary. He pored over it, frown deepening as his eyes moved further down the page.

“Conflicts galore…” Dren groaned, putting the paper on the table. “What a mess. Some of those interviews took months to book…”

“You’d better cancel them now, then.” Cameron responded without even the slightest hint of sympathy.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think we were being deliberately sabotaged…” Dren grumbled.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mallygan gave his coworker a firm whap on the arm.

“If it’s what the company prez wants, then who are we to argue?” Char responded with a nonchalant shrug. He knew when he was in a position to negotiate, and this wasn’t one of those times. “Does this group have a name, at least?”

“President Gihren wanted to leave that in both of your hands,” Cameron replied. “We’ll expect you to have picked a name by the end of the week, so that we can get word out to the relevant parties ahead of time. Otherwise, the name is entirely up to you.”

“Well! That sounds like the kind of problem that lunch meetings were invented to solve,” said Char. “Mr. Bull, have you eaten yet? I know a great spot not far from here.”

“Oh—!” Challia jumped a little. “Er—no, I haven’t yet. Lunch would be lovely…”

“There you have it. Anything else you need us for?” Char asked, standing up.

“I’ll ensure your staff get all the details, but I don’t think there’s anything else we need the performers for at this time,” said Cameron, adjusting his glasses again. “Enjoy your lunch, Mr. Aznable. Mr Bull as well.”

Char headed toward the door, and indicated that Challia should follow him. The production assistant rose from his seat and bowed politely to the others before following his new partner out the door.

* * *

Challia Bull quickly discovered that the Red Comet’s idea of a “great lunch spot” appeared to be little more than a wine bar. Tucked into a side street some blocks from the production company’s main offices, it was the kind of place one might glance over if one wasn’t already looking for it. Doubtless that air of anonymity was why Char Aznable frequented it—Challia had noticed his new coworker donning a hat and face mask in addition to his sunglasses before they had left the building, and he kept a low profile as they’d walked. 

Must be tough, to be a popular idol…

His new partner had never formally introduced himself, but there wasn’t any need for him to: at this point there wasn’t a single person in the industry who didn’t know the name Char Aznable. “The Red Comet,” as the media was fond of calling him—a moniker he'd earned from the unprecedented speed at which he'd gone from a practically unknown new idol to an industry juggernaut, all in the space of a few months. The nickname had become so much a part of his brand that his fans had begun calling themselves “cometgirls”. Challia was already dreading how the cometgirls might react to the news of another man encroaching on their fave’s turf… but right now, this was the least of his problems. First, he would have to survive lunch with the Red Comet himself. Char had conducted himself graciously in their meeting, but Challia could tell his reassignment had not been welcome news…

“Er… does this place serve food…?” Challia asked as Char ushered him through the wine bar’s narrow door. The restaurant beyond was similarly narrow, with room for only a few seats at the bar.

“Some,” Char answered. He nodded to the glasses-wearing woman behind the bar, whom Challia presumed to be the bartender from her vest and tie. “Mostly it’s to complement the wine. More importantly—do you drink?” 

“Er…” Challia was more of a sake or beer person himself; not to mention he wasn’t normally one to drink in the middle of the day. Not wanting to seem rude, he answered: “On occasion. I can’t say I’ve had much experience with wine, though…”

“Ah! You’re in for a treat, then."

Char draped his jacket on the back of one of the bar chairs before sitting down. He addressed the bartender next: 

“Simus—a merlot and a couple of glasses for the both of us, if you’d be so kind. And something to eat.”

“Certainly, sir.”

Challia removed his own coat and sat down in the seat next to Char’s, taking a look around. From the layout he got the sense that the bar had once been a hole-in-the-wall ramen joint before its current owner took over. It had at least been decorated to suit the atmosphere that the words “wine bar” evoked: dark furnishings, damask wallpaper, and moody lighting even in the middle of the day (Challia was surprised such a bar was even open at this time of day). As a focal point of the decor, the back bar held an impressive lattice of wine bottles. 

One thing he did not see anywhere, however, was a menu. As he was about to ask Char where to find it, the bartender returned with a bottle in one hand and a pair of glasses in the other. She placed the glasses down in front of each of them, then uncorked the bottle and gave both of them a generous pour.

“One more thing…” said Char. “Can my associate and I get some privacy?”

“Certainly, sir,” the bartender repeated. She leaned down beneath the bar and pressed a button hidden out of sight. The “Open” sign in the window suddenly flicked off, and there was a mechanical hum as shades began to descend over the windows and door. Within a few minutes, the bar appeared for all the world as if it had never opened that day at all. “I’ll return with your food shortly.”

“Much appreciated.”

Char turned to look at Challia and found the man gawping back at him.

“Impressed?” said Char playfully. Now that the shades were down, he felt comfortable removing his disguise—save for the sunglasses, which remained on his face even in the dim light. Challia wondered how he was able to see. “Being a regular has its perks.”

Just as Challia was thinking that this went far beyond “being a regular,” the bartender reappeared, this time with a wooden tray in hand: atop it was a selection of hard cheeses and cured meats, and baguette slices to eat them on. This she placed on the bar counter, between the wine glasses.

“Enjoy,” she said, before disappearing through a door behind the bar.

“Lunch is on me,” said Char, holding up his glass with a smile. “The wine as well. Bon appetit.”

Challia wasn’t sure this was enough to merit the term “lunch,” but he wasn’t about to turn down an offer of free food. He took a few slices of bread and cheese.

“Thank you, Mr. Aznable…” 

“Char’s fine,” said Char casually. “You looked supremely uncomfortable in there, so I figured a change in scenery would do you some good.”

“You’re not wrong…” Challia picked up his own glass, swirling the wine around—that was what wine people did, wasn’t it? “If we’re using first names, then I don’t mind you calling me Challia, as well…”

He took a sip. The taste was… agreeable. It was different from what he was used to, but not in a bad way. When he next bit into the cheese and bread, he found the flavor was somewhat heightened by the lingering taste of wine.

“So,” said Char, taking a sip of his own wine. “To business, then. First, let me see if I’ve got this straight: following a public scandal, Garma Zabi resigns. The president of Zeon Entertainment—and Garma’s own brother, I might add—suspects a rival act might have been behind the leaked photos. It’s only natural, of course! The Red Comet only stands to gain if he no longer has to compete with Zeon’s darling. And so, Gihren sends an inexperienced production assistant to be my new partner—primarily to undermine my career, but if this mild-mannered assistant is willing to feed him information about me, well! That would certainly be convenient for him.” Char met Challia’s eyes over the tops of his sunglasses. “That about sum it up?”

Challia’s blood turned to ice. His eyes fell on the wine in his glass; he couldn’t bring himself to meet Char’s gaze.

“I’ve… never been particularly good at navigating internal politics,” Challia admitted. 

“So you don’t deny it.”

“I don’t see the point of trying to,” Challia replied with a shrug. Char’s read of the situation was indeed correct—scarily so, to the point of making him wonder whether the young idol could read minds. He would have seen through it immediately if Challia tried to make excuses; it was simpler to tell him the truth. “They offered to double my paycheck if I did as they asked, with the implication that I would be terminated if I refused. Given that my financial situation is… somewhat precarious, I didn’t feel I was in a position to say no…”

“I see,” said Char, more softly this time. He seemed to relax a little bit, but only slightly. “I feel for you. That’s a difficult situation to be in.”

“Thank you…” Challia murmured. Embarrassed as he was to have been found out so quickly, it was a bit of a relief that Char didn’t seem angry with him.

“I appreciate you being honest with me, as well,” Char went on. “The world of idols is built on lies and falsehoods—an honest man in our line of work is a rare thing indeed.”

“Why do I get the feeling you’re just buttering me up…?” Challia replied.

“Maybe I am.”

“What is it, then?”

“I’d like to offer you something else. A counteroffer, if you will,” said Char. He shifted in his seat, crossing his legs nonchalantly. “Why not team up with me, Challia Bull?”

“That… is what they’re asking me to do, yes,” said Challia hesitantly.

“I mean outside of when the cameras are rolling,” Char clarified. “Work together with me, and we can reach heights that wouldn’t have been possible for either one of us alone.”

“I’m not sure I follow…”

“Let me put it this way: Gihren Zabi is expecting you to fail so spectacularly it ends both my career and yours. That is how little he thinks of you.” Char held up his glass, lips curling into a smile. “What if you showed him just how wrong he was?”

For a few moments, Challia could only stare, speechless. 

He had accepted this assignment believing he had no other choice—agreeing to grin and bear a humiliating return to the public eye as long as he needed to, if it meant keeping a roof over his head and food on his plate. He hadn’t considered that he could simply… not dance to the president’s tune so willingly. That this could be an opportunity to strike back, even in just this small way, at an industry that had ground him to dust once already…

“... I like the way you think,” said Challia, after a time. “Alright. You have my cooperation.”

Char responded with a nod, as if he had anticipated all along that Challia would not refuse him.

“It seems I’ve made a new friend, then,” he said, holding out his hand.

“Likewise.” Challia took the younger man’s hand in his, and they shared a firm handshake.

“And now,” said Char, settling back into his chair. “We just have to think up a name for ourselves. The Comets, maybe?”

“Mm…” Challia made a noise of dissent, indicating his displeasure without actually putting it into words. It wasn’t that he had an issue with the name, it was more that he could already see the uncharitable tabloid headlines insinuating that he was just riding the Red Comet’s coattails. And what would the cometgirls think…?

“That’s a no, then.” Char thought for a moment before adding, “What about ‘Merlot’? That sounds classy, doesn’t it?”

“Don’t just suggest things that are in your field of vision,” Challia replied flatly. Figuring he ought to offer his own suggestion rather than simply rejecting all of Char’s ideas out of hand, Challia brought his hand to his chin while he considered potential names. “How about… Nova? To keep the space theme?”

“I think that might be taken already.”

“Rats…”

Char glanced over at the back bar, eyes passing over the wine bottles in their neat rows. His gaze lingered on them for a time before he finally spoke again. “I’ve got it. Let’s be MAV.”

“MAV?” Challia tilted his head. “What does that mean?”

“It doesn’t mean anything,” said Char lightly. “It came to me just now. It sounds kind of like a rizzier version of mabu-dachi.”

“Mabu…?” Challia was still trying to process the word “rizzier” when mabu-dachi hit him with a sucker punch.

“It’s a slang term teens have started using for their best friends.” 

“Do teenagers say that…?” Challia wondered aloud. He didn’t count “keeping up with youth slang” among his talents, but Char wasn’t that far off from a teenager himself; maybe he’d picked it up from social media and the like? Possibly from wherever he’d gotten the word “rizzier”?

“You see the throughline though, right?” Char asked. “Mabu-dachi, MAV… I think people will pick up immediately that we’re meant to be a pair.”

“Will they…?” Challia had his doubts that “people” other than teenagers would connect the dots, but he chose not to say this aloud. As male idols, young women and girls were the primary demographic they needed to impress; what “adults” thought of their band name mattered little in the grand scheme of things. Maybe Char was on to something after all. “It does have a ring to it, though. MAV.”

“Doesn’t it sound hip and fresh?” said Char. 

Oh, he’s like genuinely proud of it.

“I think it suits us,” said Challia with a smile. He wasn’t yet sure if it did or didn’t, but that wasn’t important. It was a name that had no other associations—something they could make their own. 

“Then that settles it!” Char raised his glass in a toast. “Here’s to a new beginning—to the birth of MAV!”

Challia raised his own glass, clinking it lightly against Char’s.

“Cheers!”

Strange, to think the assignment he’d been so nervous about had turned around in his favor…

As the two sipped their wine, the bartender once more reappeared from the back room: this time carrying two small plates with what appeared to be a pasta dish. Challia looked around, confirming that they were still the only patrons in the bar—and his confusion only increased as the bartender set the plates down in front of each of them. The dish consisted of short, straw-like pasta in a creamy tomato sauce, garnished with roasted vegetables.

“Your lunch is served,” she said serenely.

“Did we order lunch…?” Challia wondered. Combined with the charcuterie board, the spread was looking more like a proper meal, at least.

“A tomato dish to complement the merlot,” Char explained, though in Challia’s view it wasn’t much of an explanation. He knew “wine pairings” existed, but didn’t know much about the topic himself. Could the restaurant’s offerings depend solely on which wine a customer ordered…?

“Thank you for the food…”

Challia took a bite, and found that just as the wine had enhanced the taste of the cheese, so too was the simple pasta dish elevated by the wine it was served with. He was beginning to see why wine people were so particular about pairings. As he ate, a bit of sauce ended up in his mustache; he gently lifted a napkin to wipe it off.

“Oh, right…” he said, as if remembering something. Char turned to look at him. “I suppose I’ll have to shave the mustache, if I’m going to be working onstage again…”

“Hm?” 

“Most of what I’ve been doing at Zeon is behind the scenes, so my physical appearance hasn’t really mattered that much,” Challia explained. “But if I’m going to be in the spotlight again, then I won’t have the freedom to do whatever I like anymore…”

“What makes you say that?” Char asked.

“Seriously?” Challia couldn’t believe Char had to even ask. “When was the last time you saw an idol with facial hair?”

“I think you should keep it anyway,” said Char. He rested his cheek on one hand, smiling. “It’s your charm point—something that makes you stand out from the crowd.”

“I don’t know…” It had been a long time since Challia had last had to consider what his “charm points” might be. Color gathered in his cheeks.

“Besides—I can tell it’s something you like, because why else would you bother maintaining it?” Char added. “Keep it, Challia. It suits you.”

Challia couldn’t help breaking into a smile. Char’s almost uncanny intuition was right once again: he did like the way it made him look. He glanced away bashfully, rubbing the back of his head. 

“Maybe I’ll keep it, then… thank you, Char. For encouraging me.”

“Of course.” Char took another sip of wine. “What are friends for?”

Friends…  Challia still wasn’t sure whether he was willing to take that leap yet. But the fact remained that for the first time since he’d entered the entertainment world all those years ago, it felt like there was someone fully in his corner. Maybe it was his seemingly effortless charisma, or his unflappable confidence, but somehow Char Aznable made him feel like anything was possible. He’d managed to expand the edges of Challia’s world, just in the space of a conversation…

What sights awaited him, by the Red Comet’s side? 

Wondering this, his pulse began to race in excitement. The kind of rush he hadn’t felt in quite some time…

In the depths of Challia Bull’s empty heart, there was a faint spark of light.

Chapter Text

Challia arrived a few minutes early to the practice room, dressed in leisurely sweatpants and a plain black t-shirt, and with his day bag slung over his shoulder. Folded inside his day bag was a change of clothing for later—today they were scheduled to begin practicing the choreography for their debut single, and Challia anticipated he’d be ending the day much sweatier than he began it. He had to admit that one benefit of his new position was that he was no longer required to wear a suit and tie on a daily basis. He was only expected to dress up if he would be appearing on camera; otherwise, he could dress how he wanted.

Char was already waiting inside. He was also dressed for the occasion, wearing a pink t-shirt and sporty red shorts that were cut surprisingly high up his leg. He’d also tied his curly blond hair into a stubby ponytail to keep it off the back of his neck. Challia noted that his partner was once again wearing sunglasses indoors—a quirk he’d observed over the course of the past few weeks, as the two of them had flitted from engagement to engagement. Anytime he was on camera, Char left the sunglasses in the dressing room or tucked them into his pocket. As soon as the cameras stopped rolling, they’d be back on his face in an instant—even if he was far away from the prying eyes of the paparazzi. 

“Great, you’re here,” said Char, smiling. “Have you had a chance to watch the demo video yet?”

“Yes…” Challia had watched the choreographer’s example reel the previous night, but whether he’d internalized all the moves was another matter. He set his bag down near the mirrors on the far wall, then walked back to where Char was standing. “It shouldn’t be too hard, I don’t think…”

“I thought the same,” said Char. “The steps aren’t too difficult—they must be going easy on you to get you back in the groove. I bet we’ll get fans doing dance-alongs on RikDok in no time.”

“RikDok…?”

“The… shortform video site?” Char frowned. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-nine; I’m not that old,” Challia shot back.

“Huh. You’re almost a decade older than me,” Char commented—and Challia all but crumbled to dust hearing it. “It makes sense, considering you were already performing back when I was in high school.”

“Can we change the subject?” Challia asked weakly.

“We can start warming up instead,” said Char. “Oh, but first—let’s take a first rehearsal selfie! Say cheese!”

Char whipped his phone from his pocket—its case was bright red, Challia noticed—and activated the camera. He held it over his head, doing a cutesy peace sign with his free hand. Caught off-guard, Challia didn’t have time to come up with a pose (or even an expression) before Char had taken a photo. 

“Ta-da! Take a look!” 

Char turned the phone around to show him: while Char himself looked suitably energetic for a young idol, Challia was in the background with a blank expression, looking mildly confused.

“You’re not going to post that, are you?” Challia asked.

“Of course I am,” said Char. He was already tapping into one of his social media apps. “A little teaser of things to come—the fans will eat it up.”

“Can we take another one, then…?”

“Didn’t like how you looked?”

“I can at least try to smile this time.”

“Hah! Fair enough,” said Char. “But your coolheaded poker face is endearing, too.”

“If you think so…”

Char held up the phone again, striking the same pose as before—and this time letting Challia decide how he wanted to look before snapping the photo. Challia wasn’t sure what sort of pose to do (idols seemed to be inventing new things to do with their hands in pictures on a monthly basis), so he just held up a basic peace sign and put on a calm smile.

“Much better,” Challia remarked on seeing the new photo, somewhat relieved. If this was to be his first appearance in the Red Comet’s social media posts, he didn’t want to look silly.

“What’s your @? I’ll tag you,” said Char, opening up the social app again.

“My @? Uh… I think it’s MAV underscore Challia on Zakreller. Not sure about the others…”

“Not your work one, your personal. We haven’t formally debuted as MAV yet.”

“I don’t have a personal…”

“You don’t?!”

“I’m not really on social media anymore…” 

It had been long enough since he’d last used social media that Challia wasn’t even sure he could remember the login credentials for his old personal accounts. Dren had set up work accounts for him on all the major platforms, but other than setting a banner and profile picture on the Zakreller account, Challia hadn’t really touched them. He knew he should make a few posts to have something there, but he could never think of anything to say. Or, rather, whenever he thought about posting, he started to feel anxious…

“Well, you’re going to have to start using it more,” said Char matter-of-factly. “Management expects a minimum of three posts a week.”

“I know…”

“Anyway—done!” Char hit post, and his photo was sent out into the world. Challia opened up Zakreller on his own phone and saw the notification from Char’s account. He’d captioned the photo “Working on a new project! Can’t wait to show everyone what we’re up to~!” complete with sparkle and comet emojis. Challia had to resist a laugh: the tone was almost too cutesy. 

That’s an idol for you, I suppose.

He quoted Char’s post, adding his own caption: Let’s do our best! 💪. Char smiled as he saw the notification come in on his end.

“With that out of the way, let’s get warmed up,” said Char, returning his phone to his pocket. Challia nodded; he took a simple black headband from his pocket and used it to push his bangs back and out of his face. Char began stretching, pulling one arm across his chest and holding it there for a time. Challia followed suit. As they moved from stretch to stretch, Challia was surprised by how stiff his limbs were. He hadn’t done stretches like this in quite some time. 

I’ll have to get myself back in shape, if I want to have any hope of keeping up with the Red Comet…

“Here, come push on my back,” said the comet in question, drawing Challia from his thoughts. He’d taken a seat on the floor and spread his legs, and was attempting to reach as far forward between them as he could.

“Okay…?” Challia wasn’t sure Char needed the help—he had already bent further forward than Challia could have managed—but all the same, he knelt down and pushed gently on Char’s back. Char took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. He leaned toward his left leg and took hold of his foot, holding it there for a few seconds; then swapped to his right. As he made to sit back up, there was a light clatter: his sunglasses had slipped off his face and fallen to the floor.

“Whoops.” Char picked them up and quickly put them back on. “Thanks, Challia. Want me to help you, next?”

“Sure, but—can I ask…?”

“Hm?”

“I’ve been wondering this for a while… Why are you always wearing sunglasses indoors, Char? Isn’t it bad for your eyes?”

“It would be, if my eyes weren’t bad to begin with,” Char replied. He tapped the glasses matter-of-factly. “I’ve got sensitive eyes, you see—the glare from the stage lights irritates them. But it wouldn’t be good for me to hide my eyes in interviews and the like, so I do anything I can to relieve the strain when I’m not on camera or performing. You understand.”

Challia wasn’t sure he bought this explanation, but neither did he feel it was worth pressing him on it.

“That sounds tough,” he said. “I assume you can still dance with the glasses on…?”

“Yes, that won’t be an issue.” 

They traded places. Challia took a seat and spread his own legs, a bit self-consciously—he wasn’t nearly as limber as Char was. Though he leaned forward and stretched as best he could, it was hard to bend very far. A moment later he felt Char’s hands at his back, gently but firmly pushing him past the natural limit of his body. Much as his muscles protested (he could particularly feel the strain in his inner thighs), it felt refreshing to start using them again after so long. Not to mention there was something oddly comforting about the feeling of Char's hands on his back…. but that was neither here nor there. 

“I think that’s good enough, Char. Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

Char got back to his feet, then held a hand out to help Challia up.

“Shall we get started?” he asked.

“Might as well…” Challia took a look around the room, confirming once more that they were the only people there. “Is the choreographer not coming…?”

“She had a conflict, so it’s just us today,” Char explained. “Wanna watch the video again to refresh your memory?”

“Yes, that would be helpful.”

Char pulled up the video on his phone and beckoned for Challia to come watch. The two of them huddled over the phone. For the most part, both of them would be doing the same routine. Challia focused on the dancer he was supposed to emulate, making a note of where his moves diverged from Char’s. 

I should be able to manage something like this.

As the video came to an end, Char glanced up at Challia.

“Got it?” he asked.

“I think so…” Challia took a deep, calming breath.

“You seem nervous,” Char observed.

“Ah, well,” Challia rubbed the back of his head. Char had seen right through him once again. “I haven’t danced in a little while, so I’m out of practice…”

“Worried about making a fool of yourself in front of a big star?” Char asked playfully.

“Maybe a little…”

“Don’t be,” said Char. He clapped a hand on Challia’s shoulder. “It’s just the first day of practice—No one would expect you to have it all memorized already!”

“That’s true…”

“Let’s give it a run-through,” said Char. He walked over to the stool nearby, on which was a small wireless speaker (presumably also Char’s, it was bright red). Char fiddled briefly with his phone, and after a few seconds the unfinished demo version of their debut song began to play. Char raced back over to where Challia stood, and the two of them faced the mirrors.

Their debut single was to be called “Stardust Record”—a name chosen more for its evocative imagery rather than having much bearing on the song’s content. Challia had expected Gihren’s underlings to give MAV a mediocre debut song, but he’d been surprised to find that the demo version had a catchy melody and toe-tapping beat. With the right arrangement and vocals, it had real potential to shine. Challia was actually looking forward to hearing the finished product… but that would come later. For now he’d have to focus on the dance. A song could be learned relatively quickly, but a three-minute dance routine would take much more time to memorize.

The dance started off easily enough: small movements in time to the beat. As the music built to the chorus, however, the choreography got more involved. Challia found himself struggling to keep up with Char’s dancing.

Just what you’d expect from a top star. A man whose talent easily outshines those around him…

Challia had to admit: even dressed in a t-shirt and shorts, the Red Comet cut a dashing figure as he danced. Nimble movements, impressive control, and not to mention his aesthetically pleasing body line—it was little wonder he was so popular. Challia couldn’t help wondering how many others had had the privilege of watching him dance up close like this…

“Challia?”

Char’s voice snapped him back to reality. 

“Huh?”

“You just kinda… stopped.”

“Oh—!” Challia flushed in embarrassment. He’d been so taken watching Char perform that he’d forgotten he was supposed to be dancing too. “Sorry, uh—let’s start over.”

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best.”

Char restarted the track. Challia felt a little more confident on the second go-around, and he was able to keep pace a little better—but as soon as they hit the chorus, he found himself lagging behind again. Dancing as a pair was already somewhat daunting: his previous group had been five members in all. Though he wasn’t as skilled a dancer as his peers, he’d been able to get away with just blending in with his groupmates. The audience’s eyes would naturally be drawn to the more talented dancers, and all Challia had to do was keep the beat. Now that it was just himself and Char, he would have put more effort into dancing well—any difference in their skill would be immediately obvious without others to cover for him. 

I don’t want to drag him down…

“Let’s start over again,” said Char suddenly, coming to a stop. 

“What’s wrong?” Challia asked. He stopped moving and turned to face Char, who was gazing back at him with a concerned frown.

“I’m fine, but you seem like you’re struggling,” Char commented. 

“Ah…” Challia looked away. His uncertainty must have started showing in his dancing. “Was it that obvious?”

“Yep. Should we watch the video again?” Char offered.

“I don’t know if it’ll help,” Challia responded. “I can’t move the way you can, Char… Dancing was never my strong suit.”

“That’s alright,” said Char. “What’s important is getting the reps in; you don’t have to worry about making it perfect yet.”

Challia had a mind to point out that this was only half the issue—even if his dancing improved, his anxiety would still be gnawing at the back of his mind—but he didn’t want to bother a big-name idol with his problems. He held his tongue, resolving to push through the uncertainty. I just have to focus.

“Hm…” Char eyed him for a moment, hands on his hips. “Let’s try something else, then. For the next run, how about you keep your eyes on me?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, don’t look at yourself in the mirror at all—just at me. Ignore everything else. For the next three minutes, imagine that there’s nothing else outside this room. No fans, no cameras. Clear your head and focus on me.”

“I’ll try…”

Challia got back into position, his eyes on Char in the mirror. His partner got the song started once more. 

That’s right. There’s no one I need to impress. Not even him.

I just have to find the beat. One step at a time…

Now that Challia wasn’t constantly fixated on the differences in their skill, he began to notice something else: there was nothing Char was doing that was outside the scope of Challia’s own ability. Before he’d been so distracted by his own perceived shortcomings that he hadn’t noticed how simple the moves actually were—but now he could see it clearly. The Red Comet had offered to be his guide; he needed only to take the metaphorical hand his partner held out to him. 

In the corners of Challia’s vision, there was a flash of light.

The room around them seemed to disappear, its four walls slowly fading out of sight to reveal nothing but a starry sky beyond. The two of them were alone, now—in all the vastness of the universe there was only Char’s dancing and Challia’s heartbeat. Time seemed to slow to a trickle. Challia could see Char’s movements with an uncanny clarity; it was as if his body itself could anticipate what it needed to do next, matching Char’s dancing beat for beat, moment to moment. They moved in perfect synch, breathing as one…

The song came to an end. The stars faded, and once more they were standing on the solid floor of the practice room, facing the mirrors. 

The two of them turned to look at each other. From the look on Char’s face, it was clear that Challia was not the only one who had experienced something profound.

“You felt it too, didn’t you?” said Char.

Challia nodded back to him. 

“I… I don’t know what happened,” he said. He brought a hand to his chest. “My heart’s still pounding…”

Char took a step forward and gently put his hands on Challia’s shoulders. Challia looked up, only to find that his partner’s face was so close that Challia could make out his eyes behind the tinted lenses of his glasses.

“This is it—this is what MAV has that no one else does,” said Char, excitement in his voice. He gave Challia’s shoulders a squeeze. “We’re going to show them something they’ve never seen before.”

“Plenty of people can dance in synch…” 

“Not like this, though. It was like we were actually connected.” Char’s lips spread into a grin. “Almost like you could read my mind! It was amazing!”

To see Char so unabashedly excited, Challia couldn’t help breaking into a smile too.

“It did feel that way, didn’t it?”

“Let’s do it again!!” said Char. Before Challia could say anything further, the young idol was already racing to the speaker to get the song going again. Challia got back into position, glancing at himself in the mirrors—and was surprised to find his own smile had yet to fade.

What MAV has that no one else does…

They practiced the dance again and again, moving as though their bodies shared a heart. For the remainder of the afternoon, the smile never left Challia Bull’s face.

Bonus: Char wants to be called senpai

“Challia,” Char said one afternoon, “How about calling me ‘senpai’ once in a while? 

“ .... you said ‘Char’ was fine,” Challia responded flatly.

“I said that,” Char replied, “But sometimes a guy wants to be called senpai, you know?” 

“Now hang on,” said Challia, frowning. “I'm older than you, and I was already working as an idol well before your debut…. Wouldn't that make me your senpai?”

Char didn’t respond, at first.

“.... oh,” he said finally. “I guess that's true.” 

Challia let a few minutes pass—long enough for Char to think the topic had been dropped—before hitting him with the softest, most sparkly “Char-senpai…” he could muster. Char took a direct hit to the heart.

“Actually…” he said weakly. “Just ‘Char’ is fine, after all…”

The topic of “senpai” was never brought up again.

Chapter Text

“If you’re worried about it, you can just let me do all the talking.”

That was what the Red Comet had told him, as they prepared to go on camera for their first interview as a duo. Challia Bull had not been in front of a camera in quite some time, and his nerves must have been showing on his face. He fidgeted with his tie. Their outfits had been carefully selected by production staff ahead of the interview: Challia would be wearing a smartly tailored grey suit and a tie in his image color (assigned teal green by management), with a black button-down shirt underneath. Char on the other hand would go on wearing a white sport coat and matching slacks over a pink button-down shirt, with a tie in his own image color. Though Challia wished he could be wearing something slightly more comfortable, he knew from past experience that early interviews were crucial—it would be the first impression they made on potential fans. Every detail had to be calculated carefully. They would unlock the ability to dress themselves for interviews if they didn’t bomb their early appearances.

“I’ll be fine, I think,” said Challia, half to himself and half to his partner. “Just have to get my sea legs back, so to speak…”

“Relax!” Char clapped a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll handle the hard questions. All you have to do is sit there and look handsome.”

Challia fidgeted with his tie again. It was unlikely to be so simple. Unless the interviewer had been living under a rock the last few years, just hearing the name “Challia Bull” would bring to mind a certain viral internet sensation who had just as quickly disappeared from public life. He was bound to get questions about it… and he didn’t know if he was ready to entertain them.

“Stop fidgeting, you’re crumpling it,” said Char. He took Challia’s tie in his hands, straightening the knot and gently tucking the excess beneath his partner’s lapels. “I can take care of this, really. You won’t have to worry about a thing.”

“What’s the point of ‘working together’ if I’m just sitting around while you do all the work?” said Challia tersely. “I’ll be fine, Char. Really. I was an idol once already, remember? I can handle myself out there.”

Char seemed taken aback by his partner’s sudden assertiveness, but in the next moment he smiled.

“That’s the spirit!”

A knock came from the green room door. A beat later, Dren’s voice came through from the hallway:

“Get moving, guys. We’re on in five!”

“Well, this is it,” said Char, turning his gaze back to Challia. “Ready… partner?”

Challia tucked a wayward lock of hair behind his ear—the hair and makeup team had insisted on styling his unruly bangs out of his face and into a sleek, slicked-back look. He had to admit it didn’t look half bad, but some of the shorter locks had a tendency to come untucked… Hopefully this wouldn’t be too distracting once they were in the thick of it. Challia took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

“Ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s do this.”

And so the two of them took the stage. Their interview would be conducted on a simple talk show set, with a pair of comfortable-looking chairs for the both of them and a desk for the host to sit at. It was to be the first piece of publicity about their debut single—alongside an advertising campaign that would slap their faces on subway station walls and bus stops. Challia glanced around, noting that the studio audience seemed to be predominantly young women. Judging by the number wearing red or carrying red accessories, most were likely here for Char. He tried not to think about whether they might be wary of him for sharing the spotlight with their fave…

The interview started off easy enough. Their host was Sleggar Law, a career entertainer who had made a name for himself in the realm of evening talk shows (and who often bragged that he was beloved by housewives everywhere). Law opened with low-stakes questions about the name of the group and how they’d come to be a duo. Char, of course, had answers at the ready: MAV’s meaning was “a secret,” and the “official” story of their partnership was that Char had personally asked the former idol to return to the stage as his partner, hoping to reach greater heights than he could have managed on his own. Not entirely a lie, but not exactly the truth, either—framing their reassignment as something that had been Char’s idea from the start was an obvious attempt to avoid upsetting a popular idol’s fanbase. Challia couldn’t be sure how many would accept their story at face value… 

“You worked as an idol previously, didn’t you, Mr. Bull?” said Law, directing his attention to Challia. He braced himself. There it is. Don’t ask about Jupiter, don’t ask about Ju— “You don’t see many idols with mustaches these days—why the bold look?”

Challia wasn’t sure how to respond, only that he was relieved that their host didn’t ask him about his old group after all. He had, however, hit something else Challia had been slightly insecure about. How was he supposed to justify his own tastes to an uncaring audience…?

“Doesn’t it make him look handsome?” Char cut in. He glanced at Challia playfully, as if to say, You’re just going to sit there and take that?

“Well, yes, but it seems an odd choice for an idol to me,” Law replied, rubbing his own chiseled and clean-shaven chin. “Aren’t women not that into mustaches anymore?”

“That may be true,” said Challia. He sat up in his chair a little bit. “But that’s fine. It’s something I do for myself—I don’t need everyone to love it.”

“For yourself…?”

“I’ve still got a bit of a babyface when I shave, so I like that the mustache makes me look more mature,” Challia answered. He put a hand to his chin pensively, “Perhaps even a little sophisticated…” He gave a sidelong glance toward the camera, smiling. “Is it working?”

A few fangirl squeaks could be heard from the studio audience, which was all Challia needed to know his gambit had paid off. If he couldn’t muster the confidence for real, he could at least draw on his previous experience as an idol—and do a convincing enough job of faking it. 

Char seemed just as surprised as their host to hear Challia take the mustache question in stride. A smile spread on his lips.

“You see?” he said, “This guy’s the real deal. I think it should be obvious why I simply had to have him.”

It was a near thing, but Challia somehow managed to keep a straight face. If you could not phrase it like that, please—!

“That’s the man from Jupiter for you!” Law quipped. “I imagine it wasn’t easy to return to the stage, though; particularly after what you’d been through…”

“It’s had its challenges,” said Challia vaguely. “I’m not as young as I used to be, and I’ve had to get myself back in shape. But…” He glanced over at Char with a smile, “Seeing how hard Char is working makes me want to give it my all, too. I can’t let him down—not after he chose to put his faith in me.”

Char’s gaze lingered on his for just a moment longer than necessary before he turned to look back at the audience. Challia was familiar with this sort of subtle gesture; it was to help sell the image of their having a close friendship. But as Char made a show of bashfully waving away Challia’s compliment, part of him couldn’t help wondering, all the same…

“And it’s clear you two trust each other a geat deal,” said Law, pulling Challia from his thoughts. “That promo video for ‘Stardust Record’ had such stunning choreography; it must have taken a lot of practice to get the timing just right!”

“It certainly did take practice,” said Challia. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief as the topic swerved away from his past.

“Don’t sell yourself short,” said Char. Turning back to Law, he added, “Challia’s a better dancer than he gives himself credit for. He picked up the moves right away!”

“Only because I had you there to help!” Challia modestly deflected the praise.

He knew the audience would interpret his comment as just a polite set phrase, but there was more to it than that: ever since their first practice, that “flash” of connection had been a constant in their performances. As they’d honed their routine to perfection over several weeks, Challia had reached the point where he no longer noticed it happening. Once the music began, nothing else mattered—it was only the two of them, moving and singing as one. Thankful as he was that he’d found some way to keep up with the Red Comet, he did worry that one day they’d fail to connect and he’d have to fend for himself onstage again. After all, he was still at a loss to explain what was causing it…

Once they’d said all they needed to say about their new single, their host meandered between topics, asking the boys about their routines and hobbies—things that would make them more relatable to potential fans. An idol wasn’t just a pop star, after all; they were someone whose daily life outside the stage was also meant to be part of their appeal. Char listed off a couple of hobbies that Challia was almost certain he was lying about (when does a busy idol have time to build model kits?) while Challia chose to answer more honestly and say that lately he’d been into watching longform videos on Gouftube, sometimes spacing them out over multiple days. 

“Not writing music anymore, Mr. Bull?” Law asked.

“Hm?”

“Weren’t you the one who wrote most of Jupiter’s songs?” Law continued. “I’d be curious to hear how your compositional style has evolved over the years. A lot of Jupiter’s tunes had real talent!”

Challia coyly put a finger to his lips, papering over his indignation with a confident facade.

“I’d prefer not to discuss my time with Jupiter, if you don’t mind,” he said. “The memories are somewhat painful for me. You understand.”

“Of course.”

“As for composing…” Challia continued, figuring he ought to at least answer the man’s question. “I’m pursuing other creative outlets at the moment. That’s all.”

That was putting it mildly. He hadn’t picked up a pen to write music since the day he’d turned in his resignation four years ago. The drive to compose just wasn’t there anymore… but that wasn’t something his potential fans needed to know.

“Fair enough!” Sleggar Law had been in the business long enough to know when a talent was done pursuing a conversation topic. He was quick to turn attention back to the topic of MAV’s debut single, and Challia managed to get through the rest of the interview without further incident.

* * *

Once filming had wrapped, the two returned to their green room to change and decompress. Char clapped a hand on his partner’s shoulder as they headed inside.

“I have to say, Challia—I was very impressed back there.”

“Oh?”

“Sleggar Law can be a little tactless sometimes, but you took his questions like a champ.” Now that they were off camera, Char took the sunglasses from his breast pocket and put them back on his face. “Seems like we didn’t have anything to worry about after all.”

“I guess…” Challia sat down in the chair by his dressing table with a sigh. Now that the adrenaline rush was wearing off, he felt more exhausted than he’d anticipated. He loosened his tie. “It’s thanks to you that I found my confidence in the end, though. I don’t think I could’ve survived that interview by myself…” 

“Happy to help,” said Char. He pulled his own tie off, tugging a little at his collar to get some fresh air on his neck. “I like seeing you so confident, Challia. It suits you.”

“You think so?”

“Sure I do! It’s like the mustache—it enhances your gentlemanly aura.”

“Gentlemanly…?” Challia couldn’t help smiling at this, albeit awkwardly. “I don’t know if that’s me… To tell you the truth, I didn’t feel all that confident up there. I was sort of making it up as I went.”

“That’s… fine?” said Char, raising an eyebrow. “It doesn’t matter if that confidence is real or not—it can just be your stage persona. The fans won’t be able to tell you’re just acting.” 

“That’s true, I suppose. Then I’ll try to play up my ‘gentlemanly aura’ next time.” He put a hand to his chin, glancing over at Char. “What do you think?”

Char grinned.

“You’re a natural. Just what I’d expect from a former idol.”

“Heh.” Challia closed his eyes. “I wasn’t really a gentleman-type back in Jupiter, though.”

“You weren’t?” Char had taken his jacket off and was halfway through unbuttoning his shirt, but to see his partner willingly mention his past immediately piqued his interest. “What were you like, then?”

Challia once more coyly lifted a finger to his lips.

“It’s a secret.”

“Oh, you’re good.”

The two of them bantered lightly back and forth as they changed back into their normal clothes and prepared to head home for the night. The interview had been their final task of the day, and Challia was relieved to finally be getting off the clock. He and Char parted ways as they left the building, each heading to their respective apartments. For Challia, it would be a quick subway ride and then a similarly quick walk through a dense urban neighborhood to reach the modest flat he called home.

The street he lived on was quiet at this time of night. Challia paused, looking upwards toward the artificial sky. A distant network of street lights twinkled above him, resembling a neatly organized grid of stars…

I like seeing you so confident.

There was something about those words that made his heart flutter… but Challia wasn’t sure he was ready to admit why.

Chapter Text

Posts tagged #MAVmail - Most Recent

@momo1k
#MAVmail i showed my mom the promo vid for stardust record, and then found out that she was really into idols when she was younger. she even had all her old albums still! lately we’ve been bonding over MAV together. we’re both rooting for you!

@cometgirl5eva
the pv for stardust record was seriously sooooo good 🙏🙏🙏 im going to watch it one william times. my oshi’s dancing. im gagged. my skin is clear and my crops are watered #MAVmail #cometgirl #charposting

@hijiki_seaweed
i didn’t really think boybands were for me, but after seeing MAV on tv i couldn’t help getting captivated by their dynamic, and somehow i got really invested… this humble seaweed is quietly cheering you on! #MAVmail 

@sayla_masscomi
New article up on IdolBase! I take a look at the Red Comet's bold new duo project MAV, and share my thoughts about the “Stardust Record” pv!
Check it out: ➡️ idolbase.net/... #MAVmail

@hige_taro
seeing a guy trying his best as an idol while wearing his mustache loud and proud makes me want to give my all, too. for all of us mustachio’d warriors—keep fighting the good fight, Challia Bull! 😭😭 #MAVmail 

@charmatruther
grudgingly have to admit that this new guy is good. char seems happy… if my oshi is happy, then all is well… #MAVmail 

@braw_broccoli
as a fan of jupiter and a challia oshi, i was soooo happy to see challia come back oml. even if it isnt with jupiter im happy hes singing again. i missed him sm. he looks like hes having fun, also he’s even hotter now?????? 💦💦 #MAVmail 

“Hm? What’re you smiling about, Challia?” Char asked, glancing over his partner’s shoulder. “Something good happen?”

“Oh, nothing,” Challia replied. “Just checking the MAVmail tag.”

“Hmmm?” Char leaned in closer to get a look. “I don’t think I’ve seen you spend this much time on Zakreller before. Finally getting back in the habit?”

“Not really. I just check this tag every so often for the podcast…” 

The “podcast” in question was their show, MAV Radio: a weekly half hour where the two of them would discuss upcoming events, answer fan mail, and generally shoot the breeze together. It was a more casual affair than a TV interview or guest appearance, and they had free reign to talk about more or less whatever they felt like. Though for the most part it was just another arm of their marketing strategy, Challia had come to really enjoy the fanmail segment. Getting to hear from fans all across the colonies was an unexpected confidence booster—particularly when former Jupiter fans chimed in.

I’m happy the fans can still have fond memories of Jupiter, even if I can’t…

Challia tapped the button on the side of his phone, and the screen turned off before Char could finish reading the posts. 

“We should get back to practicing,” he said. “Break time’s over.”

“You’re no fun.” Char pouted, but he followed it up with a stretch and let out a sigh. “Ugh, how much more practice do we really need? We’ve performed on like five different TV shows, and the music vid’s all filmed already. I think we can afford to slack a little.”

“And if Dren comes in here and finds us messing around?”

“... fair point.”

Challia went to put his phone back in his bag.

“It was kind of nice, though—seeing everyone’s kind words in the tag, I mean.”

“Right? Aren’t our fans just the best?” said Char, immediately brightening. “See, social media isn’t all bad! Just don’t namesearch yourself and you’ll be fine. Learned that one the hard way.”

Challia laughed, the way one does when well-meaning advice comes too late.

“Believe me, I know.”

Chapter Text

“Stardust Record” released to chart-topping acclaim in its first week. It was only natural, after all—the Red Comet’s fans had been eagerly awaiting his new project, and all of the marketing and publicity they’d done in the leadup to its release had generated enough buzz to draw new ears to their work. The energy in the Zeon offices the day the rankings went up was palpable. Challia didn’t think he’d ever had so many people congratulating him in his life, even during his first stint as an idol. Dren was in better spirits than Challia had ever seen him: while his new manager had always seemed reluctant to have him around (perhaps due to lingering distrust), that day Dren gave him a congratulatory clap on the back and an ear-to-ear grin. Challia wondered if their sales numbers had lifted any remaining cause Dren had to doubt his charge’s new partner.

Even with their first big achievement in the books, an idol’s work was never done. Now that their debut single had released, MAV was already scheduled to begin work on their next few songs. The two of them spent the bulk of the day meeting with composers and lyricists to coordinate the sound of their next big hit. Challia was already exhausted by the time the end of the day rolled around. He was looking forward to a quiet, relaxing evening by himself—a hope which was quickly dashed when Dren came forth with a proposition.

“What do you say we hit the town tonight? Live it up a little and celebrate MAV’s success?”

“Hm?” Char looked up from his phone.

“Hit the town…?” said Challia.

“We’re getting drinks—what else?” said Dren. “You boys want in?”

Char and Challia shared a glance. Challia was no stranger to the work drinking party—even aside from his time as an idol, his assistant job had its fair share of after-work social events. He had never particularly cared for them, but he supposed if Char was also going, he could grin and bear it…

“Actually, we’ll pass,” said Char.

“We will?” Challia asked.

“We’ve got existing plans,” said Char pointedly, in a way that seemed to suggest: play along if you want an out.

“Right!” Challia said. “I almost forgot. Busy week…”

“Aw, you’ve got plans already?” asked Dren, frowning. “Well, suit yourselves. We’ll see you tomorrow. Mallygan, looks like it’s just us tonight.”

The producer sighed, putting a hand to his forehead. 

“Don’t make it sound like we’re going on a date…”

Dren and Mallygan left the room together, bickering back and forth like old friends. Char waited until the door had closed behind them before saying anything.

“And now that it’s just us…” he said, turning to Challia. “If you’re free tonight, I was hoping to invite you back to my place for drinks, instead.”

“You were?”

“Mm-hm. Our debut single was number 1 on the charts, and I’ve got a few bottles of expensive wine I’ve been looking for an excuse to uncork. What do you say?”

Challia smiled.

“That sounds lovely.”

They left the building together in high spirits. From there it was a relatively short taxi ride to the building where Char lived (“I don’t take public transport often anymore. Too easy to bump into fans,” he explained. Challia saw the logic in it). As would be expected of a top idol, the Red Comet lived on one of the highest floors of a luxury apartment tower—the kind with a concierge, and an elevator that one needed a resident’s key to activate. Challia felt increasingly uneasy as the elevator climbed floor after floor.

Is it really alright for me to come here…?

Char glanced over at him. 

“Nervous? I understand. It’s not every day you get to go home with a big star.”

Challia’s unease evaporated, replaced instantly by irritation.

“Do you always have to say the most suggestive version of your thoughts?”

“Of course not. But it helped your nerves, didn’t it?”

The elevator dinged, and the two stepped out. At this level, there were only a few units on each floor. Char led Challia to his unit (at the end of the hall, of course) and unlocked the door. He invited his partner inside with a flourish.

“Make yourself at home.”

“Sorry for intruding…” Challia replied politely. His head was already on a swivel as he stepped over the threshold. He had expected a lavish apartment, but he was still surprised to see just how lavishly a top idol lived: a brief front hall led into a spacious main room, with floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a view of the city. Challia noted the various amenities: a full kitchen and dining space, a mini bar replete with glasses and wine rack, and an impressively-large flatscreen television that formed the focal point of a lounge area. There were also stairs leading to a second floor loft; the wall behind the stairs was lined with various posters from Char’s advertising campaigns and music releases. 

Though the place was furnished and decorated exquisitely, showcasing its owner’s expensive taste (and preference for the color red), Challia got the sense that Char didn’t spend much time here. It seemed almost too tidy, and there was little that could have hinted at what its resident did in his leisure time. Considering how busy he himself had been in the months since his return to idol work, he wondered whether a top star like Char Aznable was even allowed the luxury of free time anymore…

Char removed his various layers (coat, hat, mask—these he placed on the table in the front hall; his sunglasses remained on his face), then made his way over to the mini bar. He perused the wine racks for a few minutes before selecting a bottle from the topmost shelves. Taking a pair of glasses between his fingers, he motioned for Challia to get set up in the lounge: there were a couple of angled leather couches arranged around a low glass table. Challia nodded and went to take his seat.

“Lest you worry about drinking on an empty stomach, I’ve already arranged for food to be delivered,” said Char as he uncorked the bottle. He poured a glass for himself, then one for Challia. “This is a Bordeaux—imported straight from France, hence the price tag. I've been saving it for a special occasion.”

Challia peered at the label as Char set the bottle down. Chateâu Cheval Blanc, the label read. He couldn’t tell by looking whether it was expensive or not, but the simple-yet-elegant gold typesetting suggested luxury. He brought the glass to his nose and sniffed it cautiously. It smelled about the same as the other wines he’d tried. What made this one so much more expensive, he wondered…?

“To MAV’s first big hit,” said Char, raising his glass. Challia raised his as well. “And to our future success… cheers!”

“Cheers!”

The two of them brought their glasses to their lips in unison. As Challia took a sip, it became almost immediately apparent that something was different about this wine: it was just as dry and bitter as the other wines Char tended to prefer, but its flavor was more complex. He took another sip just to be sure.

“Good, right?” said Char. “There’s a reason some wines cost a pretty penny.”

“Yes, I can see why,” Challia replied. “I’ll admit, it does feel like you’re spoiling me a little…”

“And why shouldn’t I?” said Char. “You’ve worked hard, Challia. You deserve a treat once in a while.”

“If you say so…” Challia glanced away bashfully. He didn’t need Char to tell him he’d worked hard; he knew he had—but when it came to the equation of their success, he wasn’t entirely convinced that his effort was as much a factor as the Red Comet’s existing fame.

“But anyway—celebrating wasn’t the only reason I invited you here,” Char went on. “Going forward, I’d like you to think of my flat as a hideout of sorts. MAV’s very own secret base.”

Challia eyed him cautiously, brows furrowed.

“You’re not about to ask me to do anything illegal, are you…?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” said Char with a laugh. “What I mean is I’d like us to have somewhere we can plan our next moves without the prying eyes of management.” His expression hardened, and when he next spoke all of his previous playfulness had disappeared. “Our debut went more smoothly than I expected. I suspect it’s only a matter of time before Gihren and the others start trying to sabotage us more actively.”

“Right…” 

Challia had almost forgotten: the reason the two of them had begun working together in the first place was because the C suite suspected that Char was behind Garma's scandal. They had hoped Challia would be able to get some answers—or at least damage Char’s career if he couldn’t find the evidence they wanted. Neither of those things had gone to plan. He hadn’t thought about it until now, but considering he hadn’t completed either of the tasks they’d been paying him for, he was likely in for some form of retaliation…

“And so, we can start meeting here to discuss next steps,” said Char. “Our little wine bar has a relaxing atmosphere, but we can’t always guarantee we’ll have the place to ourselves. You never know who might be listening.”

“Makes sense.” Challia took a sip of wine. “So then… what do you mean, next steps?”

Char swirled the wine in his glass.

“The Zabis have already tried to sabotage me once. I would like them to reconsider whether undermining the Red Comet’s success is in their best interests—particularly now that I’m Zeon’s biggest seller.”

Challia frowned. Asserting his value to the company was one thing. If Char truly had nothing to do with the Garma scandal, then an internal investigation would have cleared that up instantly. He would have had nothing to hide. Why even suggest discussing the topic somewhere he was certain he couldn't be overheard? Unless…

“You were the one who leaked those photos, weren’t you.”

Char cast his gaze out the windows, at the city sparkling below. There was a smile on his lips.

“An idol’s weaknesses are always in plain sight,” he said. “It’s the other Zabis that will prove harder to topple… but I think we might be able to find a way.”

So you don’t deny it.

Challia found himself recalling the day he’d been called to the president’s office—where Gihren Zabi would make him an offer he could not refuse. As he’d approached the office door and reached out his hand to knock, he’d hesitated: a tearful voice could be heard faintly from the other side:

“How dare you! Char is my friend—someone I’d trust with my life! It couldn’t have been him!” 

Until now, Challia had never had any reason to doubt Garma’s words. The world of idols may have been rife with meaningless rivalries and petty drama, but this, too, was part of the performance. To deliberately take aim at a fellow artist’s career—and go so far as to force him to leave the industry altogether—was a level few would even consider stooping to. It was simply beyond the pale. Particularly if that person was as close a friend as Garma believed Char had been to him.

“Why would you do such a thing?” 

The question had left Challia’s mouth before he was conscious of asking it.

Char turned back to look at him, and Challia could feel the intensity of his stare even behind his sunglasses.

“Do you think less of me, now?”

Challia had never heard his partner speak so coldly before; it sent a chill down his spine. He knew he would have to tread carefully in his response. If he was willing to go to such extreme lengths to destroy a rival, then Char Aznable was not a man to be taken lightly.

“In a vacuum, yes, I would disapprove of such behavior,” Challia admitted. He glanced down at the wine in his glass. “But it is also true that Garma’s scandal was what led to my meeting you. And I would be hard pressed to say that my life hasn’t improved—significantly—in the months since.” 

It wasn’t just that his new position had brought him a much-needed financial windfall, and he was no longer living paycheck to paycheck. Working with Char had, for the first time in many years, given him something he could look forward to each day. Despite everything, he was… enjoying himself, as an idol. A joy he’d thought was long since forgotten, and had found again at the Red Comet’s side… 

Challia lifted his wine, meeting Char’s gaze with a warm smile. 

“Given that context… I think I can look the other way.”

Char eyed him for a long time, before finally a smile returned to his lips.

“Good man,” he said warmly. The chilling intensity from before had completely vanished—it almost felt as though he’d returned a deadly weapon to its sheath. “And I trust you’re aware that our discussion on this matter is not to leave this room.”

“Of course,” said Challia. “I do have to ask, though… why the Zabis?”

To this, Char merely shook his head.

“An idol has his secrets,” he said coyly. “For now let’s just say I have a personal score to settle with the Zabi family, and leave it at that.”

“I see…” said Challia. “If that’s how it is, then I won’t pry.” 

“I appreciate that,” said Char. “Incidentally, Challia—have you heard the story of the Count of Monte Cristo?”

Challia raised a quizzical eyebrow at his partner’s sudden change of subject.

“I can’t say I have…”

“It’s an old tale, from the same part of the world that gave us this wine.” Char swirled the wine in his glass for effect. “A young man is betrayed by men he thought were his friends—dragged from the altar on his wedding day, falsely accused of treason, and imprisoned without trial. He spends the next twenty years plotting revenge against the men who took everything from him. Not to kill them—no, that would be letting them off easy. He wants them to suffer. To be made to feel the depths of despair, as he had…”

Challia said nothing, eyeing Char quietly. That the young idol identified with the titular count’s quest for revenge was all too obvious from the way he talked about it. He couldn’t help feeling that Char had pulled back the curtain just slightly, allowing him a glimpse of what lay beyond. But Challia wasn’t sure he would like what he found there. What could the Red Comet have been through, to set him down this path…?

“Still curious?” said Char playfully. “I’ll make you a promise, then. When we hit the top, and perform in the Red and White—that’s when I’ll tell you everything.” He turned to face Challia, smiling, and raised his glass as if to toast. “Until then—let’s do our best, Challia Bull.”

The significance of such a proposal was not lost on him. It would not be an exaggeration to call the Red and White the biggest industry event of the year: a four-hour song battle broadcast on the colony’s biggest network, with viewers tuning in not just from the colonies, but down on Earth as well. Not just that, but participation was by invitation only—MAV would have to make an impression in a big way if they wanted to have any hope of making the cut. Those lucky enough to stand on that stage often considered it the highlight of their career. Challia couldn’t shake the feeling that Char had selected the Red and White to aim for on purpose… but he kept this thought to himself.

Will I be able to stand on that stage a second time…?

As he was thinking this, a chime sounded from the entryway.

“Oh excellent, the food is here,” said Char. He set his wine down on the table. “Challia, come help me carry it all in.”

“How much food did you order…?”

Challia got up with a sigh and followed Char to the door. He resolved to set aside his trepidation for the time being. They were here to celebrate, after all: hitting number one on the charts with their debut single was no small feat. There would be time to calculate their next course of action—whether advancing their own careers, or moving against the Zabi family—later. In the present moment, he could allow himself to relax and enjoy a catered meal with the the man who’d made his current life possible. He and Char shared a leisurely evening together, making their way through their wine and food (Char had ordered enough to have fed several additional people) and chatting as casually as if they’d been old friends. Challia almost forgot, by the end of the night, that he’d ever had cause to doubt the motives of a man as charming as Char Aznable…

But after he said his farewells and started the walk back to his apartment, the glow of their evening began to wear off.

For all their talk, and for all the time they had spent together until now, Challia was still left feeling like he didn’t know the Red Comet half as well as he wanted to. Actually, he didn’t feel like he knew Char very well at all. Despite his personable demeanor, his seemingly unflappable confidence, and his ability to effortlessly charm those around him, Challia couldn’t shake the feeling that Char seemed… lonely. Crushingly, desperately lonely—but at the same time deeply afraid of letting anyone into his heart. That evening he’d provided his partner a tantalizing glimpse of who he really was, then yanked the curtain back over it before Challia had a chance to really see anything.

Challia couldn’t get that fleeting moment of vulnerability out of his head. That Char was willing to admit to the sabotage, even with the knowledge that Challia could still use that admission against him. Hinting at some bigger plan to bring down the Zabis, and said as though he expected Challia to become his accomplice. There could be no clearer sign that Char trusted him, at least on some level—even if he seemed to be keeping his partner at arm’s length.

As the subway rattled along the tracks beneath him, Challia found himself yearning to be someone the Red Comet could truly confide in…

The robotic voice announcing his train stop finally jerked him from his thoughts. As he scrambled to get off the train before the doors closed again, all thoughts of Char were momentarily put out of mind.

Chapter Text

There once was a young man who dreamed of a career writing music, and of moving people’s hearts with dazzling performances. He practiced every day to hone his craft, pursuing any opportunity he could—playing keyboard in public places, posting videos online, even leaving flyers and cards at venues—until at last his talent was noticed by those in the industry.

Challia Bull was twenty-two years old when he was scouted by a small agency named 92 Productions, a subsidiary of Zeon Entertainment that promised connections to bigger opportunities. He was assigned to form a group with four other hopeful young men, each sharing similar dreams of fame and fortune in the entertainment world. Given that Challia was the oldest among them, he was appointed their leader—and as their leader, he was tasked with choosing the group’s name.

That was how I got my start with the group that would come to be known as Jupiter. 

Their soon to be manager and producer took the boys out for a raucous party at a neighborhood bar to celebrate their new careers. They were out late into the night, excitedly planning their first steps into the world of idols while toasting their bright futures. There would be costumes to procure, interviews to give, concerts to plan… It was hard not to be swept up in the excitement. Challia had long dreamed of this moment, and his career was only just getting started. Whether Jupiter would be his forever home or simply a starting point, he was committed to giving the group his all. His shimmering dream was, at last, within reach…

Perhaps I just didn’t see the warning signs. Or perhaps, excited to be getting my foot in the door and flattered by the others’ faith in me, I simply chose to ignore them.

First was the matter of scheduling. Jupiter’s management often didn’t notify the boys of new work or assignments until the last minute, making it hard for them to plan around their idol work. Challia always had to be ready for sudden changes in plans—an interview canceled, or an impromptu street concert in place of indoor practice—and wasn’t given much say in when or where things occurred. When they did get their schedules, the boys found themselves running from appointment to appointment: interviews, photoshoots, rehearsals, concerts and meet and greets and collaborations and variety shows—the work was endless. Sometimes they would meet for their first appointment early in the morning and not stumble home until the wee hours of the night. As the months went on the members of Jupiter noticed their social lives dry up; their packed work schedules had to take precedence, and there was no telling when their bosses would call. Vacations were difficult to schedule, and taking sick days was tacitly discouraged.

It was frustrating, but at the time I simply chalked it up to the competitive nature of the field: management was constantly working to get us new opportunities for publicity, and we were competing for airtime with hundreds of other acts. For a new and unknown group trying to get its name out there, a little hustling was to be expected… at least, that was what I told myself. The work was enjoyable, so why should I complain?

Next, there was the matter of appearances. It wasn’t just that the boys had to keep up a regular gym routine to keep their bodies looking fit. If it had just been that, Challia probably wouldn’t have minded—but he was under constant scrutiny about other aspects of his appearance as well. His body hair was a particular point of contention. Challia had what he felt was a fairly normal amount of hair, but anytime he would be showing skin in a photoshoot or commercial, management pressured him to wax it. Any amount of hair was unappealing, they told him; women simply don’t like hairy men nowadays. It eventually got to the point where Challia began wearing long sleeves and pants outside of work: not only to avoid having to go to the trouble of waxing, but also because the thought of others seeing his natural hair had begun making him nervous. 

But this was just an idol’s lot in life, wasn’t it? In an industry where appearances are everything, it wouldn’t do to neglect one’s appearance. I didn’t want to seem like I wasn’t taking my job seriously.

Then, there was the matter of finances. Despite touting itself as a subsidiary of a large and successful production company, 92 Productions always seemed strapped for cash. The boys were paid decently for their time, but that was about the only thing they were compensated for, and the company seemingly could not spare funds for other expenses. Lunches, transportation fares to and from venues, and even basic supplies were all the boys’ own responsibility to provide. As they prepared to shoot a music video to promote their debut single, the company commissioned detailed costumes for each of them—only to then ask the boys to pitch in to cover the cost of having them made. The cost of laundering those costumes after sweaty shoots and concerts would also come from the idols’ own pockets.

As Jupiter began to gain some recognition and fans, Challia wondered whether they could start using the money made from ticket and merchandise sales to finance things like costumes or lunches. The hidden costs were beginning to take a toll. Some of the other members of Jupiter had to take second jobs to cover their living expenses, adding an additional layer to the difficulty of scheduling. But when Challia brought this up to the managerial staff, his concerns were brushed off. “We pay better than any other agency,” they’d told him, which for all he knew could have been true—but other agencies probably provided lunches, too. 

He’d wanted to hold his ground, to assert that they were being treated unfairly—but Challia instead apologized for bringing it up, bowed politely, and left the office. He had seen the press releases from idols and performers who had gotten into “disagreements” with their agencies over the terms of their contracts. The usual result was immediate termination. Many were not able to find work in the industry afterward, and disappeared from the public eye completely.

I felt like I couldn’t complain—like I *shouldn’t* complain. Performing was my passion, and I didn’t want to risk getting blacklisted from the industry I’d long dreamed of working in. So I said nothing, and allowed the little things to continue piling up…

The months turned to years. The other members began missing appointments: falling ill and having to bow out of an interview, or having to rain check concerts due to unavoidable conflicts. In his capacity as leader, Challia ended up serving as de-facto emotional support: on multiple occasions he was up late in text chats with the others, coaxing them back down from panic attacks. One of the boys, the youngest, even ended up in the hospital after collapsing at a rehearsal—and there was a period of a few months where the band continued to operate as a four-man group while he recovered, rather than simply going on hiatus altogether. 

It was around this time that the rumors began to swirl. The fans were not blind to the way their boys had started looking increasingly haggard over time. Continuing work while their youngest was hospitalized was also not a particularly well-received move; their social media was frequently rife with comments decrying the heartlessness of their management & begging Jupiter to take a break. On the other side of the curtain, industry insider networks were coming to see Jupiter as unreliable; potentially even a bad investment. They were often passed over for airtime for newer, more energetic groups. So of course, management pressured them to work even harder…

The youngest was the first to quit, after he’d finally recovered. He had pursued idol work instead of continuing his education, and at the urging of his parents he decided to re-examine his priorities. Management allowed him to depart the group on good terms. His “graduation” was an emotional moment for Jupiter, and they held one last concert together to celebrate his departure. As the youngest gave his tearful farewell speech, Challia didn’t fail to notice the look in the others’ eyes—looking on wistfully, as though each of them wished that he could be the one saying farewell instead.

That should have been a clear sign that Jupiter was on a downward spiral, but by then I had grown accustomed to ignoring inconvenient truths.

We were just going through a rough patch. If we pushed through, then surely…

And then—the night of the year-end concert. The Red and White Song Battle, a yearly event broadcast on the colony’s biggest network. It was a prestigious honor to even be invited to perform; that Jupiter was being asked to take part was a sign that they had been noticed in a big way. Make an impression here, and it could mean bigger opportunities for the group—and perhaps a step up in profits that would allow them to live more comfortably, and take only the jobs they wished to. The Red and White could be their phoenix moment, a triumph that would make all of their previous hardships seem distant…

But when Challia arrived to Jupiter’s green room the night of the show, no one else was there. Management attempted to get ahold of the other three boys for an hour, to no avail. As their time slot quickly approached, it became clearer and clearer that the remaining members of Jupiter would not be joining him.

To back out of the Red and White—particularly at the last minute—would be an embarrassment of the severity that ends careers. But to perform five people’s worth of songs alone was a similarly daunting task to someone who was already showing signs of overwork. And what picture would that paint, that Jupiter only deigned to send their oldest member to a career-defining event?

Management could handle the latter. The former would reflect badly not just on Jupiter, but on the production company as a whole. This was unacceptable to them. They urged Challia to go onstage anyway—and when he initially refused to take on such a burden alone, they turned to threats instead.

“If you don’t do this, we'll make sure you never perform again!”

Those words rendered me powerless. I felt I had no other choice. Performing was the only thing I still enjoyed about being in Jupiter; I couldn’t bear to lose the one thing I was still clinging to. Maybe if I gave it my all, if I shone as brightly as I could on that stage—maybe the others could be convinced to come back, if they could see me working so hard to salvage our dream. We’d already come this far. Perhaps Jupiter wasn’t beyond saving after all…

Jupiter’s time slot came, and Challia Bull performed their entire setlist solo. 

The techs were able to provide recorded backup vocals so he wasn’t just singing karaoke to himself on an empty stage, but it was still a much less impressive performance than it would have been with the group together. Challia wasn’t used to serving as the center, and his choreography looked lopsided without the others’ routines to balance it out. He could feel the audience’s eyes burning into him, but still he sang with all his might…

For the first time, the act of performance felt… empty. 

Standing on that stage, belting my heart out to a faceless audience, I realized that nothing I did for Jupiter was ever going to be enough. I had given everything—my time, my health, my savings, my livelihood—for a company that did not care about me in the slightest. So long as I continued letting them use me, they were going to keep taking and taking until there was nothing left to take. Until I completely broke down, as the others had. 

I already felt as though my existence was a hollow shell, propped up by the scaffolding of a dream I was no longer certain I cared about. What more was left for them to take?

As I came to realize my own emptiness… I felt free, for the first time in three years. None of it mattered anymore. They had already taken everything from me. I could leave Jupiter behind with no remorse… 

In the weeks following the Red and White, Challia Bull began the new year as an internet sensation—a clearly overworked idol giving his all to save a failing band. Clips of his impassioned performance went viral on social media, with netizens both pitying him and cheering him on. Talk shows discussed what had gone wrong with Jupiter, and the mismanagement that had led to the unfortunate situation at the Red and White. The fans demanded better treatment for their favorites, while detractors held him up as yet another victim of the cruelty rampant in the industry. He became known as “the man from Jupiter”—the sole survivor of an idol group that had all but been left for dead. He’d become a legend practically overnight…

But Challia Bull never performed again.

He gave management his resignation the day after the broadcast, and then left the building without saying another word.

For months I stayed in my apartment and did not speak to anyone. Not even online—the constant barrage of notifications was overwhelming, and after about a week I turned my phone and computer off so I wouldn’t look at social media anymore. That was… perhaps the lowest I’d ever been. I completely stopped taking care of myself. I didn’t shave. I barely made time to bathe. I spent most of my days sleeping. There were times I considered taking my own life, but each time I thought about it, I didn’t have the energy to go through with it. I don’t remember much else from that time, nor could I say exactly how long I spent at rock bottom. 

The next thing I knew, I had a full beard. And someone was knocking on my door.

It was a plain-looking man in a business suit. He said he was a representative of Zeon Entertainment, 92 Productions’ parent company. He had been sent to find out what happened to me after I resigned. The company president at Zeon—it Gihren’s father, at the time—had taken notice of the social media buzz and wanted to know what had become of me. Degwin Zabi wanted to offer me work: not as an idol, not on camera. Easy, behind the scenes assistant work. Something to help keep my head above water while I rebuilt my life…

It felt as though this was the first kindness I’d been shown since I was initially scouted. And from the company president, no less…

Challia got himself cleaned up: he shaved (though kept the mustache—half as a memento, half to help make him less immediately recognizable) and dug his suit out of the closet. He signed on as a production assistant at Zeon, taking on odd tasks and making sure interviews and shoots went smoothly. Rarely, he was asked to arrange songs written by others—but by now he no longer had any spark for writing his own music. One of many things my time with Jupiter had taken from me. 

I was twenty-five, and no longer had any ambitions to speak of. I had no dreams to push me forward—but I wasn’t a slave to a dream that wasn’t serving me anymore, either. Such was the “freedom” I had found in that empty performance. I had no real attachments—to Jupiter or to anyone.

For four years, I just lived one day to the next in a colorless world.

But then I was sent to meet the Red Comet.

A young man burning brilliantly, who dazzles any stage he stands on. Char Aznable had it all: fame, fortune, talent, good looks; he was a hugely popular idol with legions of adoring fans. At just twenty years old he already had his own luxury apartment, and made enough money from performing to enjoy a similarly luxurious lifestyle. He was handsome, ambitious, charismatic, confident… 

… and empty, just like I was.

Chapter Text

Charming others is the idol’s trade. To capture hearts isn’t merely a marketing ploy; it is the entire reason for our existence. In this world where attention is currency, holding that attention—earning the loyalty of our fans, and ensuring that loyalty never has cause to waver—is everything.

I had long thought myself immune to the charms of this sparkling world. The glitz and glimmer no longer excited me as it once did. I had seen how the sausage was made, so to speak; the veil had lifted, and the emptiness of it all stood stark against the lights and the prestige. Even as I endeavored to give my all as a member of MAV, I felt confident that I would not be taken in. Not this time.

But as the months passed, and I spent more and more of my time with the man known as the Red Comet …

As though caught in an inexorable gravity—before I knew it, I felt myself being drawn in.

For the first time since leaving Jupiter, Challia Bull put pen to paper.

He had not felt up to writing music in quite some time—even Jupiter’s final few songs were penned by someone else—but a fresh melody had come to him one morning, and he felt powerless to resist its spell. He spent all day at the keyboard: writing and erasing lyrics countless times and tweaking the notes as he went. A pining ballad about a hopelessly unrequited love; feelings left unsaid, desires unanswered. A friend both close enough to touch and too far away to reach…

A song about Char, in other words. 

As the months had passed, Challia’s regard for his partner had slowly blossomed into something much more than the camaraderie of a trusted friend. Char saw things in him that no one else did; he had a peculiar way of reaching into Challia’s heart and finding just what he needed to hear most. He was always in Challia’s corner, going to bat for him when the situation called for it and encouraging him to reach ever greater heights. The sense of wonder he’d felt their first time at the wine bar—the feeling that anything was possible, at the Red Comet’s side—had never faded in all the months since. It was only natural he’d fallen head over heels. 

Still… some part of him felt embarrassed, writing such lovesick things about his own coworker. Several times he was on the verge of crumpling up the paper and tossing it in the bin, lest he risk even the chance of Char finding out how he felt. “Idols” and “romance” were as oil and water; if Char was even receptive to his feelings at all, there was still the insurmountable barrier of their careers precluding any chance they had of growing closer. At the same time, he felt as though if he didn’t pour his feelings into something, they risked spilling out at an inconvenient time. Better to commit them to paper—it was, after all, the first time he’d been in the mood to write music in multiple calendar years, and he would have been all the more ashamed of himself if he gave up now.

By the end of the day, he had a rough draft of a melody and a set of lyrics to go with it. 

It felt good, he decided, to be writing again.

* * *

Challia arrived to their dressing room in high spirits on the following Monday morning. It was going to be another packed day, but he’d brought a laptop and headphones with him so that he could start working on an arrangement for his song during his downtime. Normally he would have been content to save such pursuits for outside work, but some part of him still itched to be working on it.

As he stepped inside, he found that Char had already arrived. He was lying on his back on the couch in the center of the room, hands folded on his chest and one leg draped nonchalantly over the other. There were what appeared to be small square bean bags laid over both his eyes.

“That you, Challia?” Char asked, without getting up.

“Er, yes…” said Challia. “Can I ask what’s on your…?”

“Oh, this? Hot compress,” said Char simply. “It’s to help my eyes. There should only be a few minutes left on the timer.”

“Timer…?” Challia noticed Char’s phone on the couch cushion next to him, a timer displaying on its face. His sunglasses were folded up next to it. “Ah.”

“Normally I save this kind of thing for after work, but my eyes have been really bad lately,” Char explained. “I’ll be good as new in a few minutes.”

“I see.”

So he wasn’t lying about his eyes, after all… Challia suddenly felt a bit bad for doubting him. Must be tough, when so much of your day is spent under glaring stage lights…

“How was your day off?” Char asked. “You never post on weekends, so I never know what you get up to.”

“You’re… following me on socials?”

“Should I not be?”

“Ah, no, it’s fine…” Challia suddenly felt a bit embarrassed. He only used his various MAV accounts for things like announcements or promotional posts—he’d long fallen out of the habit of sharing the minutiae of his daily life online. “I never have anything interesting to post about, though.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” said Char with a smirk. “Question still stands, though. How was your weekend?”

“It was good…” Challia debated for a moment whether he ought to mention that he’d spent most of it writing music. He was happy with what he’d written, but he knew if he said something Char would likely want to see what he’d come up with, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to share. Particularly not when the song was so personal—and so very much about Char himself. Before Challia could decide what to do, however, Char’s phone began to chime. Char lifted the hot compress from his eyes with a sigh of relief before silencing the phone.

“... you brought your laptop?” Char said, squinting as Challia unpacked his bag at the dressing table. “That’s what that is, right? I can’t see very well right now…”

“Yes, it’s a laptop.” They were skirting closer to having to discuss Challia’s music. “Moreover, are your eyes okay?”

“The compress just makes my vision blurry temporarily,” Char explained. “What’d you bring a laptop for?”

“Well…” Challia got the sense that trying to avoid the subject or make up excuses would just make Char press him harder. He could usually tell when Challia was being less than truthful with him. “To be honest, I’d been working on writing a song this weekend. I brought the laptop so I can keep working on it if there’s time…”

“You were?” He had Char’s full attention now; the young idol sat up and turned to face him, eyeing the laptop with great interest. “Can I hear it? Or is it not presentable yet?”

“It’s just a melody so far, and I don’t know if it’s any good, but—!”

“I want to hear it, if you’re alright sharing.”

It was a request so earnest that Challia couldn’t refuse him.

“Alright. Here…”

Challia took a moment to turn the volume up before pressing play. His melody came forth from the laptop, sounding somewhat tinny from its low-quality speakers, but still loud enough to reach Char across the room. Char listened for a while with his eyes closed, before finally he asked, “Are there lyrics?”

“Er, they’re not finished either, but…”

“Let me see what you have.”

“They're really basic…” 

“Can I see them anyway?”

Challia knew he shouldn't. He had every right to privacy, and these lyrics weren't just deeply personal—they were a danger to his professional relationship in the wrong hands. If he held his ground long enough, maybe Char would get the message and back off….

But against his better judgement, he pulled up the file with the lyrics and handed the laptop to Char. 

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you…” Challia found himself saying. Immediately he caught himself—what had possessed him to give in so easily?! Was there perhaps some small part of him that actually… wanted Char to see what he’d written? After all, if he hadn’t brought his laptop to work in the first place, he wouldn’t be in this situation now… 

The young idol squinted a little at the screen, reading intently.

If I could only say what’s on my mind—
But I know that only trouble lies
On the other side of these feelings
My only choice is to keep them locked inside…

Challia could barely breathe. His feelings laid bare, plain on the page he hadn’t meant for anyone to see—what would Char think, having read them? Worse, would he figure out that the song was about him…?

“This is great,” Char remarked.

“It—come again?”

“It’s so raw. You can really feel how conflicted the speaker is,” Char went on. “Combined with that yearning melody… I think you’ve got a hit on your hands, Challia Bull.”

“Oh, uh—!” Challia flushed. With an awkward smile, he added, “You think so…?”

“I know so.” Char smiled, handing the laptop back to him. “Here’s an idea—what if we sang it together, as our next single?”

“Huh?!” Challia nearly dropped his laptop.

“It looks easy enough to arrange into a duet,” Char went on. “I could sing the first couple lines, you’d take the next set, and so on. We can sing in unison for the choruses.”

“H-hold on…!” Challia’s flush was approaching the Red Comet’s preferred shade of red. “I don’t think—!”

“What?”

“I just don’t know if it’s as good as our usual material…” Challia was just fumbling for an excuse. He’d been satisfied with what he’d written, but the thought of singing about his feelings for Char in public—all while the man himself seemed completely oblivious to his crush—was already more than he could handle first thing in the morning.

“Don’t say that,” said Char. “Are you happy with it?”

“Well, yes, but—!”

“And I think it’s great, so what’s the issue?” said Char. “Who cares what anyone else thinks of it, compared to ‘our usual’? It would be boring if all our songs sounded the same.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about…”

“What are you worried about, then?”

Challia looked away. He couldn’t say it. 

He couldn’t bring himself to say it.

Because this song is about my feelings for you.

“If you’re truly not comfortable with it, we don’t have to,” said Char, more softly this time. “It was just a thought, and I’m sorry for pushing you so hard on it. But…” Char smiled. “I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t tantalizing—the prospect of singing something you wrote, together.”

Challia looked back over at him.

“You really mean that…?”

“Of course I do,” said Char. “You said yourself that you’ve been taking a break from composing the last few years. Getting to sing your first song since returning to the stage would be an honor.”

“Ah…”

Challia didn’t know what to say. He knew Char was probably just buttering him up again (to what end, he couldn’t fathom), but somehow it also felt like Char was… being genuine with him, this time. That he really did want to perform music that Challia had written.

As usual, Challia found that Char Aznable was the one person he simply could not say no to.

“I suppose…” he said finally. “If your heart’s set on it, then we can use this for our next single. I’ll have to finish writing the lyrics and get an arrangement together, but—!”

“You sure?” 

Challia turned to him, smiling.

“Seeing how much you like it… how could I keep saying no?”

Char practically beamed back at him.

“We’ve gotta let Dren and Mallygan know,” he said, grabbing his phone off the couch. “All the other songs we’ve been working on will have to go on hold—this new one is taking precedence! It’s gotta get top billing!”

“I don’t think we get a say in—!”

“What’s the song called, anyway?” Char cut him off. “Does it have a title yet?”

Challia bashfully glanced away.

“I’d been thinking of calling it… ‘Our Aphelion’. I can pick something else if that’s too weird, though.”

“The furthest point in the Earth’s orbit from the sun…” said Char. “That’s so evocative. I love it.”

“You’re killing me with the praise today, Char…” Challia said weakly.

“Said like you don’t deserve it!”

As Char busied himself with sending a message to Dren, Challia turned his gaze back to his computer screen. The lyrics were still there, and his eyes were drawn to the second stanza.

If I were braver, it would’ve been nice
Maybe I could even find something cool to say.
But today, just like always, all I could do
Was listen while you talked away…

Whether his partner’s encouragement was genuine or not… Challia Bull decided he didn’t care.

Chapter Text

The production for “Our Aphelion” came together quickly. Dren wasn’t particularly thrilled by the prospect of delaying their upcoming releases to accommodate a new song, but Char managed to win him over with the prospect of using Challia’s hiatus as a selling point—how many fans would jump at the chance to hear Challia Bull’s first new song in years? (This seemed to convince him.) Once Challia had finished the base composition, Mallygan got to work coordinating additional staff to work on the arrangement and mixing. MAV was in the studio to record the vocals a mere two weeks after Challia had put the finishing touches on the lyrics. Then there would be the album cover shoot, and the promotional photos—all shot wearing outfits picked for the music video. 

While the music video for “Stardust Record” had been a glitzy production with custom-tailored outfits and careful choreography, “Our Aphelion” was a much more down-to-earth endeavor—more like an episode of a TV drama than a dance number, matching the vibe of the song. This time, the boys would be wearing simpler, breezier outfits: white button-down shirts worn open over solid-color t-shirts, and jeans in a matching shade of blue. To complete the “TV drama” feeling, Mallygan called on the talents of a director well-known for her work on romance dramas to help shoot the music video. Rather than a dance routine, the boys were given some direction on gestures and poses to help convey the tone of the song. 

Once the final cut of the video was ready, Dren and Mallygan sat the boys down in front of a laptop to see how the fruits of their labors had come together. If they gave their approval, the video would at last be ready to release into the world. Challia had been eagerly anticipating the final product of all their hard work, but as the video progressed, he couldn’t help noticing that the camera work and editing had a very particular bent. He didn’t remember things feeling quite so… homoerotically charged, on set. The video seemed to have been deliberately filmed and edited as if the two of them were singing to each other, instead of to an implied audience. Challia could only wonder if the director had read his mind, considering how many of the shots he was in framed him gazing longingly at Char…

This is getting dangerously close to BL territory. And what’s Char going to think…?

The video came to an end. Challia awaited his partner’s response with bated breath. He turned to look at him, trying to gauge his reaction, but Char was as poker-faced as ever. He eyed the laptop screen with his arms folded, and his sunglasses made his expression difficult to read.

“Not bad,” said Char finally. “I have no complaints. Good work, everyone.”

Challia let out the breath he’d been holding.

“If Char has no complaints, then I’m satisfied with it as well,” he said. 

For a moment Challia considered bringing up the overtly romantic framing, but he figured that at this late stage it wasn’t worth mentioning—having to re-cut or even re-shoot parts of it now would only delay the release. It didn’t matter, in the grand scheme of things. Their fans wouldn’t notice. Probably…

* * *

Two days after the video for “Our Aphelion” went up online, Mallygan opened the door to MAV’s green room with a grim announcement:

“Bad news, boys. The fans are shipping you.”

Challia almost dropped his phone. Char looked up from his, one eyebrow raised over the tops of his sunglasses.

“Huh?” said Dren, frowning. “What do you mean, ‘shipping’...?”

“Gelgoogle it,” said Mallygan. 

Dren busied himself with his phone for a few seconds, then exclaimed, “Seriously?!”

“And you’re sure they’re talking about us…?” said Challia hopefully.

“Dead certain,” said Mallygan. “There’s already a dedicated tag on Zakreller and InstaZam—it’s #CharChalli. You can’t miss it.”

“They’re putting me on the left, huh…?” said Char bemusedly. He pulled out his phone to take a look. “Aaaand it’s trending. In…” He tapped between the two apps. “Both places. There you have it.”

“You’re kidding…” Challia opened his own Zakreller app, dreading what he’d find. Sure enough, #CharChalli was listed on the sidebar as a trending topic—alongside “Our Aphelion” and “MAV”.  The number of posts was already staggering. Heart pounding, Challia tapped through to see what people were saying. There were posts reading “seems like challia’s also in the thrall of the red comet…” and “i for one welcome honorary cometgirl challia bull to our ranks” at the top of the feed, among numerous posts wishing them happiness or rhetorically wondering if OP was imagining the obvious chemistry between them. At least one post theorized that their relationship went back even further, citing Char having hyped his partner up in earlier interviews and the comfortable way they bantered on their radio show.

Char and Challia looked up from their phones, sharing a glance—though Char met Challia’s confusion with a confident smirk.

“You don’t… seem to be bothered by this,” Challia observed.

“It’s just harmless celebrity gossip,” said Char. “I’m used to it. You don’t get to be where I am without all kinds of people speculating about your romantic entanglements.”

“I see…”

“That said…” Char’s smirk widened into a grin. “This may represent a golden opportunity for us, Challia Bull.”

“Never a good sign when you use my full name…”

“This could become one of MAV’s selling points,” said Char. “We could use the rumors and gossip to our advantage. Our fans have already taken notice of how well we work together; what if it wasn’t just our talent giving us that synergy? What if there was something more to our already undeniable bond—something that went beyond mere friendship?”

“What exactly are you suggesting…?”

“That we double down—in other words, deliberately act as though we're romantically involved with each other,” said Char triumphantly. “If it's what the fans want, then who are we to deny them?” 

Challia’s mouth fell open in abject disbelief.

“I—Char?!”

“Yeah, I’m gonna stop you right there,” said Dren, holding his hands up in an “x” motion. “Don’t forget about the romance ban—that's actually in your contract, and not just an unspoken rule. They got Garma for having a secret relationship; what do you think is gonna happen to you with a public one, fake or not?”

“Aha, but that’s where you’re wrong,” said Char. “Dren, are you familiar with the term men-ai?”

“Men… huh?”

“It’s a type of fanservice,” Char explained. “Idol group members showing physical affection to each other, such as holding hands or hugging—that’s member love, or men-ai for short.” 

“Okay…?” said Dren.

“An idol is supposed to remain chaste, maintaining the illusion of availability so our fans can imagine themselves as our partners,” Char went on. “Having a real romantic partner on the side would of course be seen as a grave threat to that illusion. But men-ai is a loophole: paradoxically, affection between members of the same group isn't typically seen as a threat in the same way. It’s fun, it’s playful! It’s titillating in a way that doesn’t break the precious illusion of a perfect partner. Ergo…” Char cast a meaningful sidelong glance over at Challia, meeting his eyes from behind the shades. “There’s nothing wrong with idols getting a little handsy with each other.”

“And if the fans decide otherwise…?” said Dren, frowning. “You’re gambling with your career here, Char.”

“If they’re already reading into our relationship, then I think we’ll be able to get away with it,” Char replied. “That’s the beauty of men-ai—we can skirt juuuust at the edge of what's allowed, always pushing the envelope as close as we can—and the fans will eat it up!”

Char turned to Challia, who had been standing in stunned silence for some time now.

“If Challia’s alright with it, that is,” said Char. Challia looked up. “I don’t want to push you into anything you’re not comfortable with, even as an act. What do you think?”

Challia appreciated the check-in: to say he was uneasy about the prospect of playing at a relationship with his own coworker would be an understatement. Ironically, Challia felt that in normal circumstances (i.e. if he hadn’t been nursing an unrequited crush for the last little while), he wouldn’t have had any issue with Char’s proposition. He wouldn’t have minded indulging their fans and playing along for the camera if there was never any truth behind it to begin with. To be an idol was already to construct an image of yourself that wasn’t quite real, and sell that image of you to the world—with all his past experience with performing, he could easily pretend to be someone who was in love with the Red Comet.

Trying to pretend his feelings weren’t real, though, was going to be much harder. 

“Challia?” Char’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“… I don’t have a problem with it,” Challia blurted finally. “Do whatever you want, Char.”

Wait, no! Why did I say that—?!

“Actually, I—!”

But Char had already taken a step closer to him, closing the distance between them. He put a hand on Challia’s shoulder, leaning in close enough to speak directly into his ear with a low, languid voice:

“Then I’ll be looking forward to the next stage of our partnership, Cha-lli-a ♡”

A shiver ran down Challia’s spine—though whether from fear or excitement, it was hard to say. 

If there was such a thing as hell, Challia Bull felt certain he'd found it. 

Chapter Text

“Our Aphelion” released to yet another chart-topping first week, and its music video steadily continued to rack up the views. With another successful release on the books, the members of MAV soon found their schedules filled to the brim: interviews, magazine shoots, meet and greets, guest appearances, recordings; not to mention planning for their first album, and the concert tour that would accompany it. Ordinarily this busy schedule would not have been an issue—such was the reality of life as an idol—except that now Challia Bull was spending a significant part of his days getting bombarded by his partner’s obvious flirting.

It wasn’t just that the Red Comet was ramping up his efforts to find the most provocative phrasing for his thoughts. If that had been the extent of Char’s men-ai, Challia could probably have survived. But Char seemed determined to take things a step further: whenever they were on camera, he took every opportunity for physical contact that he could get away with. He’d place a hand in the small of Challia’s back when they stood together for pictures, or lean on his shoulder when it wasn’t their turn to speak. During interviews and variety shows where the two of them were seated close together, Char’s hand always seemed to find its way to Challia’s thigh.

Occasionally Challia did his best to play along, returning Char's simpering gazes or playing off his various innuendos. This was for the fans, after all—he could handle a little playful flirting if it entertained their audience, and his “gentlemanly” stage persona lent itself easily to the illusion of a devoted partner. Most of the time, though, Challia merely sat back and let Char have his way, doing his best to ignore the physical contact even when the lightest touch made him want to scream. 

If he only knew how much further I want to go… 

After about a month of this—of having to watch the man he loved openly hit on him again and again, and being unable to reciprocate the way he wanted to—Challia felt that he was approaching the limit of what his lovesick heart could endure. As he rode the train to the Zeon offices one morning (clad in a hat, sunglasses, and face mask, of course—now that he'd returned to the world of celebrities, he was no longer able to move about the world undetected) he considered asking Char to tone it down a little. He’d seemed receptive to Challia’s needs before; an admission of discomfort, even if it wasn’t entirely true, was likely all it would take for the flirting to stop…

As Challia considered how he wanted to word his request, he caught his name in the conversation of a few young girls further down the train car. 

“Is it just me, or has Challia been giving Char the cold shoulder lately?” said one. “Char keeps getting handsy, but Challia never seems to notice…” 

“I know, right?” said another. “Now that Char's ready to return Challia's feelings, suddenly he's playing hard to get!” 

“Imagine playing hard to get with the Red Comet!” a third chimed in. “What's he waiting for? Now that you've got your man's attention, you've gotta go for it, Challia Bull!”

“Right?” said the first. “Like—!”

“Just kiss already!!” 

The three of them squealed in unison, followed by a chorus of giggles. Challia slouched a little in his seat and pulled his mask higher on his face.

If they knew the whole story, maybe they’d be laughing at my misfortune instead…

There was a reason Challia was hesitant to reciprocate Char’s obvious affection: the simple fear that his heart would no longer be able to distinguish what was real and what was just an act. That if he allowed himself to participate, to get swept up in the illusion, then it would only get that much harder to find the line between coworker and lover. It was difficult enough to keep a clear head as things were, with Char practically throwing himself at him on a daily basis. If he let himself believe, for even a moment, that Char Aznable was truly in love with him…

… then he might not be able to hold his feelings back any longer.

And there were some lines he could not, would not, cross.

His stop came, and Challia hurriedly gathered his things and stepped off the train. He was met by a full-sized, floor-to-ceiling advertisement lining the back wall of the platform opposite: a photo of Char posing seductively in a white button-down shirt that was soaked through, providing a tantalizing glimpse of the skin beneath. In the lower corner was an elegant red bottle and the name of a perfume brand; one of the ad campaigns that had been in the works since before MAV’s debut, no doubt. The sight of Char gazing at him so invitingly from across the room, even when he knew it was just a photograph—his heart skipped a beat, and he cursed himself for it.

What I wouldn’t give, for him to look at me like that and mean it.

A second curse, muttered under his breath.

We’re just coworkers. We’re just coworkers… 

* * *

With another long day ahead of him, Challia Bull would have to find time to make his request between engagements. 

That day, MAV was scheduled to appear on a popular TV program known for promoting artists with live performances. They could perform any song they wished, but because the show would be airing live, they would only be given a single take. As a matter of course, they’d selected their currently-trending song “Our Aphelion.” 

Even though Challia could perform the song in his sleep by now, he still couldn’t help feeling nervous as they walked onto the stage. It was the first time they’d be performing the song in full in this kind of setting. There was no studio audience watching, and only the camera crew would have their eyes on him—but still he couldn’t shake his nerves. With only one take, there would be no room for error. If Char tried anything that caught him off guard, there would be no chance to recover…

“Hey,” Char said, glancing over at him. “Relax.”

“Trying…” Challia replied with a sigh. 

“You’ll do great,” said Char, smiling. “I know you will.”

Challia took a deep breath.

We’re just coworkers.

“Thanks, Char.” Challia managed a smile in return. “I’ll give it my best.”

“That’s my MAV!” Char gave him an encouraging pat on the back.

Your…? Challia found himself thinking, but the lights dimmed to signal that they would be starting soon. The show’s director motioned for the camera crew to get into position, and Challia took that as his cue to approach the microphone stand closest to him. Rather than ear-mounted pieces, they would be using more traditional microphones for this performance. Char made sure his microphone was turned on; Challia followed suit. As they took their places on the stage, staring down the cameras, Challia steeled his resolve.

“Imagine that there’s nothing else outside this room. No fans, no cameras. Clear your head and focus on me.”

At times like these, Challia found himself remembering Char’s advice from their first practice. While they were singing together, nothing else mattered—that mindset had always pushed him through his misgivings, and he’d been able to forget his worries for a time. He wondered if Char had noticed the ways Challia had been relying on him since then… but that was neither here nor there.

The director gave the signal, and the cameras began to roll.

“Hey there, viewers!” said Char cheerfully—as usual, his performance was like a switch had been flipped. “Thanks for watching! In case you didn’t know, I’m your very own sparkling comet, Char Aznable!”

“And I’m his down-to-earth partner, Challia Bull,” Challia added warmly. “Together, we’re the duo group MAV.”

“Today we’ll be performing our brand-new song, ‘Our Aphelion’,” said Char. “We hope you’ll listen to the very end!”

The two of them took their microphones off the stands and went to stand in the agreed-upon spots. Once they were in position, the backing track floated in from speakers placed around the stage.

This is easy. I can do this much. This song had no complex choreography, no extra movements to remember; all Challia needed to do was to stand there and sing.

Char, of course, seemed to have other ideas. As his verse came up, he sidled closer to Challia and gently tugged his shirt sleeve to get his attention. Challia looked over at him, eyebrow raised, but Char only smiled back.

What are you plotting now, Char…?

Char timed his movements carefully: Challia felt a hand in the small of his back as the chorus began, just in time for it to slip to his waist and draw him closer for the line “If I could pull you into my arms, and take you far away from here”. It was so deliberate that Challia couldn’t help flushing. He looked over at his partner with as straight a face as he could manage, even if internally he was fuming.

Watch it, Char. We only get one shot at this.

And Char winked at him, as if to say: And?

Char let him go, but Challia’s eyes remained on him even as he nonchalantly put some distance between them. As he began singing his next solo verse, Char glanced over his shoulder and made a sort of beckoning motion with his head.

Fine, Challia thought. Two can play that game.

Challia approached him, following Char’s verse with his own response. And then—

“I brought my hand up gently to your cheek…”

Challia had closed the distance between them now, standing much closer to his partner than was strictly necessary. He reached up and took the back of Char’s head in his free hand, bringing their faces within inches of each other and forcing his partner to look him in the eyes. 

For the first time since they’d known each other, Char Aznable looked genuinely caught off guard. It was only for a moment—without missing a beat, he took hold of Challia’s microphone and pulled it closer to his own lips, singing into it:

“Just to wipe those tears away, and yet—”

Challia’s voice joined his partner’s, reciting the next couplet mostly from memory; he was no longer entirely focused on the performance. The feeling of Char’s hand on his, holding the same mic together, was electrifying—so much so that he couldn’t help wondering if Char was feeling the same thing, their hearts racing in tandem… 

“You were still completely out of reach

Across the world, as far away as you can get…”

He almost didn’t want to let go, but he knew he couldn’t keep Char in his grip for the rest of their performance. He slowly stepped back, gliding his fingers along Char’s jawline before finally releasing him. 

The rest of their performance was comparatively tame; it seemed like Challia’s sudden heel turn had shocked his partner into behaving himself. Char’s eyes lingered on him for a while, even as he was supposed to be singing to the cameras. As the song meandered to its conclusion, Challia wondered… was the longing in those blue eyes real or fake?

* * *

Following their three-minute performance, the show’s host sat down with them to fill the rest of the time slot with another interview. After that, it was back to their green room to change clothes and prepare for their next appointment. Challia sighed lightly as he swapped one shirt for another, trying not to think about his performance that morning. He’d let his desire get the better of him, showing a side of himself he’d been trying to keep buried. It was all for the show, of course, but he still worried he’d overdone things a little bit. Grabbing Char’s head like that…

That felt good. The look on his face was so worth it. Were his eyes always that pretty? His hair was so soft, too… Wait, what am I thinking—?!

“Challia?”

Char’s voice startled him from his thoughts; he jumped a little in his seat.

“Ah—yes?”

Challia felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up. Char had finished changing already, sunglasses and all; he met Challia’s eyes with a smile.

“I’m going to grab a drink from the vending machine before our next thing,” he said. “Want anything?”

“I’m alright, but thank you for the offer.”

“Of course,” Char replied. He did not let go of Challia’s shoulder. “You were great out there, by the way. We don’t get to see this side of you very often. I bet the fans loved it.”

“You don’t think it was too much?” 

“Not at all,” said Char. “To be honest with you, I’m impressed—not a lot can get my heart racing like that anymore. Well done, Challia Bull.”

“Ah…” Challia flushed a little. “Thank you…”

“I’ll see you in a bit,” said Char; he gave Challia’s shoulder a little squeeze before releasing him. Challia kept his eyes on his partner until the dressing room door had closed behind him.

Challia let out the breath he hadn’t even been conscious of holding, then leaned forward and buried his face in his hands.

“What am I even doing…?”

It had been quite some time since Challia had last felt the way he did now—the normally calm sea of his heart churning with conflicting emotions. The uncertainty was what was killing him: did Char feel the same way about him, after all? It was impossible to tell. The Red Comet seemed to enjoy being intentionally vague with him. Was he flirting, truly? Or simply toying with him, seeing how long he could get away with pushing the envelope until he finally found the limit of Challia’s patience? When would he be satisfied?

This is torture.

Challia wanted him so badly it left a physical ache in his chest. But the thought of actually telling his partner this—or worse, letting his longing get the better of him again—was equally suffocating. 

What would Char say, if Challia admitted to falling for his kayfabe flirting? Mistaking his plays at affection for genuine romantic interest? He couldn’t imagine anything more pathetic. He’d be no better than the kinds of fans who have trouble with boundaries, believing their parasocial love to be a real affair. If he confessed, it would only put their existing friendship in jeopardy. That, above all else, stayed his hand. The thought of losing the one person he’d come to rely on was far more terrifying than having to suck it up and bury his feelings indefinitely. And was Char Aznable even interested in men to begin with…?

At the same time… 

In the moment that he’d taken hold of Char’s head on that stage, their faces mere inches from each other—he’d gotten the distinct yet inexplicable feeling that his partner was not opposed to a little manhandling. 

He had, in fact, seemed a little bit into it.

Chapter Text

“A jeweler?”

Challia frowned. 

“Uh-huh,” said Dren, glancing down at the clipboard in his hand. “Big name company that does a lot of collabs with shows and idol groups and the like—they make themed jewelry.”

“Let me see,” said Char. He took the clipboard from Dren and looked it over, brow furrowed.

A jeweler seemed to him an odd choice for a collaboration, but Challia knew it wasn’t uncommon for idols to collaborate on ad campaigns with luxury designers and perfume manufacturers and the like. He supposed it did make sense from a marketing standpoint—a jeweler and a male idol group were targeting the same general demographic, after all. Challia wondered what sorts of products they would be promoting (necklaces? Earrings, maybe?), but he wasn’t left wondering long.

“Rings?” said Char. “That’s it?”

“Yep,” said Dren. “There’s a couple images of the prototypes under that top sheet. They’re meant to be subtle merch you can wear as part of a normal outfit, so they’re pretty simple.”

Char flipped up the top page, and Challia went to go take a look for himself. Sure enough, there were a few photos of simple-looking gold rings: each was set with a small jewel inside a carved accent. One had a red jewel set into a rose gold comet-like accent, the other had a green jewel and a white gold planet-shaped accent. It was obvious they were designed as a pair.

“They match…” said Challia weakly.

“They’re cute,” Char remarked. “I like them. When’s the promo shoot, Dren?”

“You catch on fast,” their manager replied with a wry smile. “We’re scheduled for this afternoon, so we’ll be heading there next.”

“Great,” said Char. “Anything in particular I should wear?”

“Mallygan’s bringing some outfits to the venue, so you’ll be all set there.”

“That’s our Mallygan, on top of it as always.” Char glanced over at Challia, who was still staring at the rings with a vaguely mortified expression on his face. “You alright?”

“Huh?” Challia started to attention. “Ah. Yes. I’m fine.”

“Good.” Char gave him a pat on the shoulder. “You’ve done modeling work before, haven’t you?”

“Yes, though not in a long while…”

“I’m sure you’ll do great.” Char smiled at him.

That’s not what I’m nervous about… Challia almost said this out loud, but decided against it. Char was already crossing the room to grab his jacket off the hook.

Why did it have to be rings…?!

* * *

The venue for their shoot that afternoon was a small and simply-furnished photo studio; the jeweler had reserved the space for a few hours. The photographer, a young woman, greeted them with a smile and gave them a rundown of what they could expect. They would be shooting against a black backdrop, with dark furniture and tables draped in black velvet tablecloths—the better for the rings to stand out.

After they’d changed into the comfortable-looking cardigans that Mallygan had provided for them, a representative from the jeweler presented them with the ring prototypes: each had already been sized to fit their index fingers (though where the jeweler had gotten this measurement from, Challia couldn’t imagine). Challia carefully took his ring in hand and turned it over, examining the details. There wasn’t much more to see than what had been included in the photos, though he noticed that “MAV” was engraved on the underside of the planet motif. He slipped it on.

For the most part, the modeling was easy: the photographer gave them clear instructions on where to sit and what pose to take. First she had them pose for a few “normal” shots with their ring hands on the tables. From there, the instructions started getting more specific: Challia was directed to bring his hand up to his chin pensively, highlighting the ring while glancing at the camera; Char meanwhile was made to lay down on the loveseat and cover his face with one hand, his eyes meeting the viewer’s gaze suggestively. There was even at least one shot taken of each of them holding the rings between their teeth (though all present agreed this was a little too far over the top). After reaching the end of her checklist for the individual shots, the photographer directed them to stand and sit together for a few more photos so they could show off the rings as a pair. 

“I think that’s about it,” said the photographer finally, checking her previous shots on the back of her camera. “You boys did great! We’re going to finish earlier than expected.”

“Hold on,” said Char. “Can we take a few more? I had an idea just now.”

“Sure…?”

Char turned to Challia, pulling his ring off. He took Challia’s left hand and gently slipped the comet ring onto his third finger—the one typically reserved for a wedding ring.

It was all Challia could do to keep a straight face.

Oh, that’s so not fair…

“Can we do one like this?” Char asked, though the warmth in his voice suggested he was asking more for Challia’s permission than the photographer’s.

“Sure, if that's alright with Mr. Bull.” 

“… I don’t mind,” said Challia. “Here, take mine…”

As Challia went to take the planet ring off, the photographer interrupted him:

“Wait, can I have Mr. Aznable put the ring on you again? I want to get a picture of it this time!”

“Sure,” Char replied. He met Challia’s gaze as he took the comet ring back. There was something in those blue eyes that Challia hadn’t noticed before… 

Am I imagining it?

The camera flash startled him back to attention, and he remembered he was supposed to be posing. Char slipped the comet ring on his partner's finger again, then let Challia slip the planet ring on his as the shutter clicked away beside them. Char took Challia’s hand in his, holding it as delicately as one might with their lover’s hand—it was of course mostly to show off the rings together, but Challia couldn’t keep his heart from pounding all the same. This was the longest they’d physically touched each other, skin to skin. Char idly brushed his thumb over the comet motif, and the photographer scolded him for covering it up.

Am I imagining that he… wants this the way I do?

The photographer asked them to hold up their hands, side by side—as though they’d just gotten engaged. Char obliged, smirking confidently back at her. Challia couldn’t help smiling too, though more from embarrassment than anything. They were fully just messing around now. Since it was unlikely any of the pictures from the last several minutes would be at all usable for advertising, he couldn’t keep a straight face anymore.

His eyes found their way back to Char’s, and he found his partner was smiling back at him with an expression that was difficult to read.

“What?”

“You finally relaxed,” said Char quietly. 

“Oh…?”

“You seemed like you’ve been on edge for weeks,” Char went on. “Something happen? You can tell me.”

You’re the absolute last person I want to hear that from, is what Challia wanted to say. Instead he glanced at the various production staff scattered around the room before replying, in a low whisper, “Not here…”

“Hm.” Char knew a dodge when he saw one. “Fair enough. But promise you’ll tell me later?”

“After we’re done with this,” said Challia.

“Alright. Then I’ll wait.”

What he was willing to tell Char was still a matter of some debate, but he didn’t have the chance to sort his thoughts out. The photographer had a few more ideas for shots they could take, and soon Challia had other things to think about. But once the shoot had wrapped, as they changed clothes and prepared to load back into the company van for the trip back to the Zeon offices, a single thought gnawed at the back of his mind.

I can’t keep going on like this.

I have to know.

Chapter Text

They sat in silence for the duration of the van ride back to the Zeon offices. Dren and Mallygan discussed the rest of their schedule in the front seats (it sounded like they were in for another interview later, perhaps to promote the new collaboration?) and only rarely paid the talent any mind. Challia was thankful that they didn’t seem to need his input. He didn’t think he would be able to hold a conversation in his current state—his heart was pounding so loudly he worried Char could hear it over the sound of the road beneath their wheels.

What will he say, if I tell him?

But I can’t go on keeping this from him, or I’ll…

When they arrived at the Zeon offices, it was Char who requested some time to collect themselves. Dren granted it, though cautioned them to keep an eye on the clock—they didn’t have all that much downtime before their next appointment. Char waved off his concerns as flippantly as always.

“Er, Char…” said Challia carefully. “Do you have a minute?”

“Sure,” said Char. “What’s up?”

“Wait—let’s go somewhere else,” said Challia. The lobby, in front of their manager, was not the correct place for this conversation. “Follow me.”

Char glanced over at Dren and Mallygan just in case, but Dren nodded back to him in approval.

“You’ve got an hour ‘till the next thing,” said Dren. “Just make sure you’re changed and ready to go by then.”

“I’m sure we won’t be gone that long,” said Char. He turned back to Challia with a smile. “Lead the way, Challia.”

Challia nodded, and started off toward the administrative side of the building; Char was close behind him. His years of working on the admin side had given Challia a pretty good idea of which hallways were less traveled; they could find a quiet spot where they were unlikely to be overheard or interrupted. Once he’d found a suitably out of the way corridor, he came to a stop. The ceiling lights above him were awaiting a change of bulbs, and Challia hoped the darkness would reduce the chances of passerby noticing them there.

“So, about earlier…” he began.

“Oh, right.” Char nodded for him to continue—he even took his sunglasses off, to see him more clearly in the dim light. “I'm listening. What's been on your mind?” 

“I… the truth is, it's about the. The pretending we’re in a relationship, thing…”

“The men-ai?” 

“Yes. The last few weeks…” Challia gripped his arm nervously. It was now or never. “Er, this is going to sound pretty pathetic…”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” said Char gently.

“Well… ever since the ‘Our Aphelion’ video released, it’s been hard to stay focused when I’m with you. You’re always touching me and flirting with me, and—!”

“It's unwanted?” 

“No, no—it's not that,” said Challia quickly. “The problem is… I do… want it.” 

He looked away, grimacing.

“I… I wrote that song about you, Char,” he admitted. “All the things I was too afraid to say… I was terrified that if I told you how I felt it’d only make you uncomfortable, and I didn’t want to do anything that could damage our friendship or push you away. But now you're constantly flirting with me, and I'm just supposed to pretend…” He trailed off, taking a deep breath. “So… I need to know if there’s any truth in it, or if it’s all just… you know, for the fans.”

“Challia…”

“And it’s alright if it isn’t real,” Challia went on before Char could say anything else. He couldn’t meet Char’s gaze; his eyes were on the floor. “I can handle keeping myself in check if that's the case. I just want to know for sure, so I can stop getting my hopes up…”

Char didn’t respond, at first—which of course made Challia regret having said anything. Before he could apologize, however, he felt Char’s fingertips on his chin. He looked up just in time to see his partner lean forward and gently bring their lips together. 

“How’s that for an answer?” Char asked as he pulled away, voice low.

At first, Challia could only stare at him in disbelief, eyes wide.

You…!!

His surprise quickly made way for excitement as it fully dawned on him what this meant for them. Challia could barely contain himself; he took Char’s head in his hands and pulled him into a much more aggressive kiss. The momentum carried them backwards, and his back bumped against the wall—Char leaned an arm against it to steady himself, but he did not make any attempt to resist. No, he had Challia Bull exactly where he wanted him now. Char leaned into each kiss, pushing his way further into Challia’s space until the distance between them had completely closed and he had his thigh firmly between his partner's legs.

Challia had to stop to catch his breath; he turned his head with a gasp and brought a hand up to his mouth—part embarrassment, and partly to keep Char from going in for another round before he had a chance to collect himself.  Char watched him with a bemused smile on his face.

“You alright, Challia?” he asked playfully. “Don’t forget to breathe.”

Challia only nodded back to him wordlessly—it was going to take some time to remember what words were after a kiss like that. 

Char took Challia's chin between his finger and thumb once more, guiding his partner’s gaze back to him.

“Here, let’s try something fun,” he said. “Open your mouth a little more.”

Challia obliged, not entirely certain what his partner had in mind—only for Char to take hold of his head and hungrily press their lips together. Challia jumped as he felt something warm and wet sneak into his mouth….

Oh…! Oh, this is—!

Challia sank into Char’s embrace, wrapping his arms around his neck. Char almost seemed to be toying with him, his tongue teasing along the edge of Challia’s lips before diving back in as though he meant for the man to devour him. It was maddening—intoxicating. Almost as though he could feel the raw desire emanating from Char’s heart, bleeding into his every touch. Challia could barely string a coherent thought together—everything else seemed to disappear, and Char’s tongue was all he was conscious of. Each time Char seemed to loosen his grip, or made to pull away for a breather, Challia pulled him right back in for more. He couldn’t get enough—not now that his deepest desires had been answered, and he finally had Char all to himself…!

The sound of footsteps coming up the adjacent hall snapped him out of his trance. Char heard them too; in an instant he had put a respectable distance between them. They watched breathlessly as an office worker passed by the entrance to their hallway without noticing them.

“Um…” said Challia, brilliantly. “We. We should…”

“Go somewhere with a door that locks?” Char finished for him.

“Yes…”

“Come on.” Char took his hand, meeting his eyes with a conspiratorial smile. “I bet the green room’s open.”

“Are you sure? Maybe we shouldn’t do this during work hours…”

“How badly do you want to keep kissing me?”

Challia looked down and fidgeted with his shirt in embarrassment.

“…pretty badly…”

“Then what are we waiting for?”

As usual, Challia found it hard to argue with him.

* * *

It wasn’t until they were safely in their green room, the door latched and locked behind them, that Challia finally spared a thought for what they were doing.

We probably shouldn’t be doing this at work…

Char motioned to the couch in the middle of the room, and Challia took a seat. Char sat down next to him, close enough that their thighs touched to the knee. Challia looked up; those blue eyes were mere inches from his…

What if we’re discovered…?

But Char reached up and pulled him into another kiss, and Challia Bull decided he didn’t care anymore.

Char pushed gently on his shoulders, slowly easing him down—until he was on his back on the cushions, and Char was hovering over him on his hands and knees. Their eyes met for a moment, but there was nothing left they needed to say. Char bent down and kissed him again. This time Challia was ready for him; his lips parted to allow Char's tongue to slip back inside…

It’s just kissing…

Char’s lips began to wander; Challia felt them at the corner of his mouth, then the edge of his jaw, and then just below his ear—his body shivered on reflex. No one had ever touched him there before, and here Char was brazenly kissing him as though he owned the place.

It’s just kissing; why am I already so…??

That making out with his crush had turned him on was only a matter of course, but he could feel his cock straining against his belt with an intensity he hadn’t known he was capable of. To say he was aroused was an understatement. He was about ready to let Char have his way with him, consequences be damned…

As if on cue, Char reached down to give him a gentle stroke. Challia gasped.

“Good?” Char asked, languidly dragging his fingers along Challia’s erection once more. His pants dulled the sensation somewhat, but this only left room for his imagination to fill in the gaps. Challia nodded to him eagerly. “We probably should keep our clothes on, though.”

“Probably for the best, yes…”

“Much as I’d love to tear them off you.”

“Oh—!”

“But for now…” Char gave him another stroke. “We’ll just have to satisfy ourselves with this. You won’t mind, will you?”

Challia was beginning to wonder if Char had adult videos on his resume somewhere. How else could he say such suggestive things with a straight face…?

“... do whatever you want…” Challia said finally, burying his face into the crook of his elbow.

Char gently reached out and lifted Challia’s arm away from his face, then leaned in to give him another kiss.

“Then I will,” he said. In the next moment, he was back at Challia’s neck—this time with an open-mouthed kiss, tugging hungrily at his partner’s skin. Challia’s breath caught in his throat.

“Oh—! Char—!”

“Hm?” Char indicated he was listening, but didn’t stop.

“N-not so high up, we still have to be on camera—!”

Challia had a feeling he knew what Char was aiming for, sucking at his skin like that—and that it could get both of them in deep trouble if he left a mark where anyone could see it.

Mercifully, Char released him. He repositioned himself, nipping Challia just below his shirt collar before taking the skin between his lips again. As if this wasn’t enough, he returned to rubbing Challia’s cock—even through two layers of fabric, the sensation was enough to drive him mad. Challia’s hips began to buck of their own accord, pushing his cock into Char’s grip—to the point where Char didn’t even have to move anymore, and Challia was just using his partner’s hand as a toy. Challia was aware of how desperate he must have looked, grinding into him like this—but by now he was well past caring.

You want it that badly, huh? he thought he heard Char say—but he still had a mouthful of Challia's skin, so he must have just imagined it…

Char finally let go of Challia’s neck, releasing him with a light pop. He brought his hands up to undo the first few buttons on Challia’s shirt and pull his collar open. He paused, briefly, to admire the view—but could not resist diving back in for more ravenous kisses. Challia had half a mind to remind Char that his cock was still waiting, but before he could say anything Char’s hand was between his legs again.

He knows what I want without even having to ask…

Challia brought his arms up, wrapping Char in a wanting embrace. Char’s ministrations were taking a toll, and he could tell he was nearing his limit—but he knew he shouldn’t give in. He wasn’t sure he had a spare pair of pants to change into; if he came now there wouldn’t be enough time to procure a clean pair for his interview. Not to mention having to live with the knowledge that he was so desperate for Char’s attention that he’d come just from this, with his clothes still on…

“Nothing to be embarrassed about…” Char murmured into his neck.

“Huh…?”

“You can come, if you want. I won’t tell anyone.”

“I shouldn’t…”

“Why not?”

“I—!”

But before Challia could come up with a reason, the door handle began to rattle. Both of them froze.

“Char? Challia? You boys in there?”

“That you, Dren?” Char called back.

“There you guys are! Sheesh!” Dren sounded both frustrated and relieved on the other side of the door. “We’ve been looking all over for you—you’re going on in ten minutes!”

Challia started. Had they really been fooling around for that long…?!

“Got it. We’ll be ready to go in five,” said Char. “Sorry to make you worry.”

“Make it three. I swear, you’re going to be the death of me one of these days…”

Char and Challia looked back at each other. The disappointment was clear on Char’s face; he very obviously wanted to keep going until Challia really did come. Challia on the other hand was looking back at him in a daze, face flushed. He was still processing the whiplash between the happiest he’d ever been in his life, the horniest he’d ever been in his life, and the sudden interruption that had brought both of those things to a screeching halt. Char couldn’t help laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

“I didn’t think you’d be so green, Challia,” Char said playfully. “Could it be that I’m your first lover?”

Challia looked away, pouting.

“Please don’t make fun of me…”

“I’m not making fun of you, really. Here…” Char extricated himself from Challia’s grip and stood up, holding out a hand to help him up. “Let’s get our clothes straightened out, at least. What we have on now is probably fine.”

“Right…”

Challia stood up and walked over to one of the dressing mirrors, patting out the wrinkles on his clothes. As he buttoned his shirt back up, he noticed that Char had been… enthusiastic in his affections, and there were a number of blotchy red marks visible on his neck and collarbone. He glanced furtively over at his partner, color growing in his cheeks.

You really went for it…!

Char seemed to notice Challia looking at him and met his eyes with a smirk.

“Sorry about your neck,” he said, in a way that suggested he was not sorry at all.

“It’s fine…” Challia mumbled, busying himself with his buttons again. He didn’t normally button his shirts all the way to the top, but this time he needed to absolutely guarantee none of the marks were visible. Try as he might, though, there was one that was just high enough to peek out over the edge of his collar… “Char, do you have any concealer?”

“Huh? I do, but—I think your skin’s a different shade than mine.”

“That’s fine, I just need a little.”

Char went to rummage in the little pouch he kept his cosmetics in. He tossed Challia a small pen-shaped applicator, and Challia dabbed concealer over the offending mark. He checked it from a few angles, and while it was true the color wasn’t an exact match, it did a fine enough job obscuring the bruise. Unless the camera went in for an ultra closeup shot of his neck (unlikely), he didn’t think anyone would notice the difference…

Probably.

Chapter Text

As they left the dressing room, Dren and Mallygan were already standing by to get them to their next engagement. The four of them dashed through the hallways at an impressive clip, their clattering footsteps drawing attention from confused interns and assistants. They arrived to the third floor studio huffing and puffing, Challia moreso than his partner. The show’s production staff was in a frenzy, and they were met with a cacophany of noise punctuated by the occasional barking of a black pomeranian that someone had brought to work with them.

“Can someone take the dog out before we get rolling?” Dren asked loudly as the boys took their seats onstage.

“I told you not to bring him, Jezzi,” a blond-haired cameraman hissed.

“And leave him at home all by himself all day? No way!” the pomeranian’s owner, Jezzi, snapped back. He bent down to scoop up the dog, then adjusted his thick-rimmed glasses with his free hand. “He’ll quiet down when the lights come on, you’ll see.”

“If we hear a peep out of him, he’s out,” a tech chimed in, this one with short black hair and a plain-looking face. He had headphones around his neck and a microphone boom in one hand.

“I know, sheesh!”

I don’t think I’ve seen these people before… Challia noted to himself as he listened to the techs bicker. Were they new employees? He supposed it wasn’t unlikely that they could be working for their interviewer instead of Zeon—plenty of big names employed their own production staff rather than relying on whoever was available at the studio.

“Alright, guys, quiet down.”

A woman’s voice echoed across the studio, and the bickering techs immediately fell silent. There came the clack of heels on linoleum as the voice’s owner, a tall, smartly-dressed woman with bright orange hair, strode into the room. As she stepped into the light, Challia recognized her as someone whom he had seen around but never spoken to: a former idol who went only by the name Annqi. Once she had “passed her prime,” so to speak, she left idol work and transitioned to a career as a daytime television personality. Bouncing along behind her was her constant companion, a white Haro unit that she had fitted with a black knit hat to hide its missing ear flaps.

“Annqi,” said Char cordially. “Always a pleasure to see you.”

“Likewise,” said Annqi, though Challia got the sense neither of them truly meant it. “Let’s save the pleasantries for the show, hm?”

“Save it, save it!” Haro chirped.

“Places, everyone!” one of the techs called out. “We’re rolling soon!”

Char and Challia took their seats onstage, where a couple of comfortable chairs had been provided for them. Annqi got seated in her own chair, and Haro bounced up to sit next to her. Challia glanced out at the studio audience, noting that every available seat had been filled—and there was a much more even distribution of red and green in the crowd compared to previous times they’d had a live audience. As the cameras started rolling, Annqi launched into her introduction with the practiced ease of someone who had been in the business for many years.

“I’m here today with the duo group MAV, as they continue riding the success of their latest single…”

By now Challia could talk about “Our Aphelion” in his sleep. Annqi hit them with a couple of lowball questions: about how the video itself had come together, and whether they’d seen the fans’ reactions (Char responded to this with a canned “We wouldn’t be where we are now without the support of our fans,” without acknowledging the specifically homoerotic lens of that support.) She also asked where MAV was headed next. Challia mentioned that they’d just wrapped the photoshoot for an upcoming merchandise collab, coyly recommending their fans look forward to it; Char meanwhile wanted to start generating some buzz for MAV’s first album and tour. Though they didn’t have enough original songs to merit the term “album” quite yet (and it would have been hard to fill a concert setlist just with what they had), Char had the idea for them to re-record a few of his previous songs as duets. That would take the pressure off to come up with enough new material to fill a two-hour concert set on relatively short notice.

“Ooh, how fun!” said Annqi.

“How fun, how fun!” Haro echoed.

“And of course, you probably still have designs on the Red and White, don’t you, Char?” Annqi continued. “Particularly after last year’s snub…”

“Of course,” Char answered. “This time, I’m confident that I can make it to that stage. With Challia at my side, there’s nothing we can’t do.”

“And how do you feel about that, Challia?” Annqi asked. “I’m sure the Red and White is a difficult topic for you…”

“It is,” Challia replied. “I would be lying if I said I wasn’t uneasy about the prospect of standing on that stage again. But, it’s as Char says—this time I wouldn’t be standing up there alone.” He turned to look at his partner. “If we’re selected for the Red and White, I’ll do everything in my power to make sure that opportunity isn’t wasted.”

“Challia…” Char sounded genuinely touched.

“Er, Challia…” said Annqi. “Not to suddenly change subjects, but—did you get a tattoo?”

“Huh?”

“What’s that on your neck…?”

Challia gasped sharply and clapped a hand to his neck. He’d turned his head to look at Char, putting the side of his neck in full view of the cameras… but had the makeup rubbed off? That must have been what happened—!

“Oh dear, guess that was supposed to be under wraps!” said Annqi playfully.

“Oh dear, oh dear!”

Challia wasn’t paying attention anymore—between the scandalized whispers in the studio audience and his own pounding heartbeat he couldn’t focus on Annqi at all. He looked down at his hands, wondering how much longer it would be before the showrunners ordered them to cut the cameras…

This is it. This is how my career ends a second time. I shouldn’t have reacted so strongly. I shouldn’t have—!

“But if that’s what I think it is, then who put it there, I wonder…?”

“I did.”

The audience erupted into a cacophony of gasps and shrieks. Challia looked up. Char’s eyes were on Annqi, a confident smirk on his lips.

“Sorry?” said Annqi.

“I said I did,” Char repeated.

“I didn’t realize you two had that kind of relationship—?!” Annqi replied, dumbfounded.

“Yep. I’m a jealous man, you know,” said Char. He reached over and took Challia’s chin between his finger and thumb, pulling him closer—then flicked his gaze back to the cameras. “Wouldn’t want anyone to think my partner is available just because we’re idols.”

The audience practically exploded with noise, but Challia was so mortified he could barely hear anything. His mind went completely blank.

I don’t remember anything that happened after that.

I feel like I might have dodged something… or maybe I’ve been flung into an even bigger mess.

Posts tagged #CharChalli - Most Recent

@momo1k: that felt like a fever dream did i actually see #charchalli confirmed with my own two eyes

@hijiki_seaweed: #charchalli real?? mods????

@kidou_netizen: #charchalli out here taking men-ai to the next level holy fuck

@hundred_shiki: i don’t know how i feel about #charchalli flaunting their relationship like this… aren’t you supposed to be idols?

@braw_broccoli: i know we're all going nuts about #charchalli rn but guys it's probably fake… they're not allowed to be in relationships, there's no way that was a real hickey

@michi_kusa: pour one out for the cometgirls lol #charchalli real

@cometgirl5eva: CHALLIA BULL LUCKIEST MAN IN SPACE GOD I WISH THAT WERE ME 😭#MAVmail #cometgirl #charposting #charchalli

@zaku_02: so the ship name order was accurate after all…. #charchalli

@yuki079: #charchalli just saying if i got a hickey from char aznable i would also brag about it on live tv, you’re doing amazing sweetie

@mikuuuuuux: ngl i was kind of enjoying the speculation on #charchalli, is it weird that knowing it’s real makes me less invested?

@suimoku_oshi: i cant hear the haters over #CHARCHALLI REAL HAHAHAHAHA☄️🪐☄️🪐☄️🪐

@charmatruther: i’ll never accept #charchalli!!!! never!!! #charma forever!!!!!

Chapter Text

“I can’t believe I have to say this, but if by some miracle we make it out of this, don’t ever do that again. Alright? Do you understand?”

Challia found himself back in the green room, though he had no recollection of how or when he’d arrived there—he remembered Char confirming on camera that he’d been the one to give Challia a hickey, but everything after that was a blur. He and Char were seated on the couch, though this time with a more professional distance between them. Mallygan leaned against one of the dressing tables, absorbed in his tablet; Dren was standing across from them and looking fit to blow a gasket at any moment.

“Frankly you two are lucky they let you out of that studio alive,” Dren went on. “Though god knows how long that’ll last, once Gihren gets wind of this. I wouldn’t be surprised if they fire both of you tomorrow morning.”

He turned to Challia, scowling.

“I expected better from you,” he said. “You were an idol once before; you should know better than this! A secret girlfriend, I mean really! And getting a hickey right before a big interview—how shameless can you get?? Please tell me it’s not a fan, I don’t think my heart could take it if you were fooling around with a fan on top of all this—!”

“Uh, Dren—!” Char tried to cut in, but Dren rounded on him next.

“And don’t think you’re getting off scot-free, comet boy,” said Dren. “It was big of you to try to cover for him, but there’s a limit to how reckless you can be!! Torching your own career just to cover up what some girl did to—!”

“Actually…” said Challia. “Char really was…. the one who gave me that…”

Dren just stared at him.

“You’re kidding me.”

“You saw us get changed at the photo studio,” said Char. “He didn’t have any marks then, did he?”

“That’s…” Dren’s brows came together with the effort of trying to recall a detail from earlier that day. “I guess that’s true. But then…?”

“When would he have had the time for a tryst with his secret lover between then and the interview?” said Char. “Unless that secret lover was me?”

Dren put a hand to his forehead and let out an exasperated sigh.

“… Look,” he said finally. “Love is love, I guess, but—pardon the swear—what the fuck were you thinking? You two are supposed to be professionals, and this is about as unprofessional as it gets. There’s no way HR is letting this one slide. And what are we going to tell the fans…?”

“Actually…” Mallygan piped up. “We might be okay in that department. Dren, take a look at this.”

“Huh?”

Mallygan handed Dren his tablet, which he had open to a social media feed.

“Our socials are blowing up, but it’s weird—most of the responses are positive?”

Dren took a moment to peruse the feed, brows knitting in deeper confusion the further he scrolled. After a few minutes he asked, “What’s Charma?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Char and Mallygan answered in unison.

“They’re not angry…?” Challia asked.

“I’ve seen a few posts expressing disappointment, but they’re vastly outnumbered,” said Mallygan. “Not to mention it looks like more people are buying the single… I hate to say it, but I think all that men-ai might’ve paid off, Char.”

“Heh.” Char couldn’t resist a smirk.

“At least where the fans are concerned,” Dren sighed, handing the tablet back to Mallygan. “We’re not out of the woods by any stretch—we still have to come up with an explanation for HR.” As if on cue, his phone began to buzz. “Speak of the devil… I gotta take this, it’s Dozle Zabi.”

“I should probably also be making some calls,” said Mallygan as Dren left the room. He turned his attention to Char and Challia. “That interview with Annqi was the last thing on the docket, so you guys are done for the day. Try to stay out of trouble before me and Dren have a chance to smooth things out, alright? And absolutely no posting—do not make a single social media post until we give you the OK. Not even a food pic. Am I clear?”

“Crystal,” said Char.

“Great,” said Mallygan. He headed for the door, then paused and turned to look at them again. “Personally, I don’t care what you two get up to outside work. It’s not my business—just keep it outside work. No sneaking off to fool around during work hours.”

“We would never,” said Char innocently.

“And no lying to your producer’s face about it, either.”

With that, Mallygan left the room. For a while, there was only silence: Challia was still trying to process everything that had transpired that afternoon. Going from the high of feelings returned in kind to the bone-shaking terror of their budding affair coming out on live TV—not to mention the high likelihood that he was about to lose his job over it. It was hard to imagine that a little over an hour ago they’d been getting intimate with each other in this same room, finally answering what must have been months of pent-up desires. And now this…

We shouldn’t have done that. I should have waited until after we got done for the day before telling him how I felt. We could have gone straight to his apartment and no one would have been the wiser. Letting him leave a mark when we still had work to do was a mistake that’s probably going to cost us both our careers. All because of me… I shouldn’t have…

“Challia?” said Char quietly. Challia jumped a little bit. “Are you… alright?”

“I… I don’t know…” Challia responded honestly. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around everything…”

“Makes sense,” said Char. “It’s definitely been a weird day. I knew Annqi was a troublemaker, but I didn’t think she’d stoop that low in a real interview…”

“Yeah… Er—can I ask…?”

“Hm?”

“Why did you stick your neck out for me?”

Char tilted his head, frowning.

“What do you mean?”

“If it was just me…” Challia glanced away. “I mean, if you hadn’t said anything, then I would have been the only one to face consequences, and your career could have just gone on as usual…”

“Challia, what are you talking about? You didn’t do anything wrong. I was the one who put that mark on you; you shouldn’t have to lose your job over—!”

“But it was my fault we were even kissing in the first place,” Challia cut him off. “And now we’re both in trouble because of it. I’ve… I’ve already lost my career once. I could handle leaving the public sphere again if it came to that. But you had your whole career ahead of you still, and now I’ve gone and—!”

“Could you stop blaming yourself for two seconds? Challia, look at me.”

Char reached out and took Challia’s face in his hands, looking him straight in the eyes.

“Why wouldn’t I stick my neck out for you? You’re my MAV,” he said. “When we fall, we fall together. When we soar, we soar together. That’s what MAV means. There’s no MAV without you, Challia—it would be meaningless.”

For a long time Challia could only look back at him, speechless. Finally he furtively shifted his gaze to the floor, unable to bear looking at his partner's concerned face any longer. It was a side of Char Aznable he didn’t think he’d ever seen before: a moment where it felt like he was actually being perfectly, fully genuine with him.

“Thank you…” Challia said, voice no louder than a whisper. “No one’s ever… said anything like that to me before. It means more than I can say…”

“Then I’ll say it as many times as you need,” said Char. “You’re my partner, Challia. If this is the end of the line for MAV, then I’m walking out with you.” He released him and smiled, albeit wryly. “More importantly—I don’t want you to think what we did earlier was a mistake, alright? I very much enjoyed making out with you, and I would gladly do it again.”

“Ah…” Challia flushed. He glanced back up at Char before bashfully adding, “We’ll just have to be careful not to get in trouble at work again, then. Assuming we make it out of this with our jobs…”

“I make no promises.” As if to illustrate his point, Char kissed him lightly on the nose. “Listen, we’ve had a long day. What do you say we unwind with a glass or two at our usual spot? My treat.”

Challia knew it would probably be unwise for them to be seen in public together, particularly before their management had had a chance to deal with the mess they’d caused. He also knew that he was going to need some time to sort out his feelings after the emotional rollercoaster he’d been on for the last few hours, and a dinner date with his lover (lover? were they at that point now, that he could call Char his lover?) at an already romantic wine bar would not help matters in the slightest. The smart thing would have been to politely decline, go straight home, and spend the evening trying not to think about what might be waiting for them the next day.

But once again, Challia’s heart spoke before his brain could get a word in.

“Yes,” he said with a smile, “That would be lovely.”

Chapter Text

To Challia’s surprise (and perhaps relief), Char did not attempt to make any further moves on him that evening. They passed a comfortable couple of hours together in the privacy of the bar, sipping their wine and enjoying the chef’s recommended pairings. He almost forgot, for a moment, that the disastrous end of his idol career was once again hanging over his head like a glitzy sword of Damocles.

As they left the bar, Char put a hand on Challia’s shoulder.

“Get home safe,” he said gently.

“I will,” Challia responded. “You too, Char. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

For a moment, the two of them just stood there looking at each other. Challia wanted to kiss him goodbye, but the logistics—both were wearing masks and sunglasses to hide their identities—and the chance of being spotted would have made it more challenging than it was worth. He got the sense, from the fact that Char’s hand had not yet left his shoulder, that his partner was running similar math in his head and arriving at the same conclusion.

“Bright and early!” Char said finally, giving Challia’s shoulder a squeeze—this would have to suffice for now. The two parted ways, and Challia headed back toward the subway station.

Somehow, despite it all, there was a spring in his step.

* * *

Challia wore a turtleneck to work the next day.

Dren and Mallygan were both waiting for him in the lobby when he arrived to the Zeon offices, and the stern looks on their faces told him all he needed to know. They directed him to the elevators, where Char was ready for him with a full explanation. Their original morning meeting had been canceled to make room for a chat with the head of HR.

And now the sword of Damocles falls…

Challia was grateful that the elevator arrived quickly, and he and Char didn’t have to spend much time lingering in the lobby. He didn’t want to know what sorts of unsavory things the others in the office might be saying about them…

The elevator climbed upwards at an agonizing pace. The HR department was housed on one of the upper floors, well away from the floors housing production staff and studio spaces. A small screen displayed which floor they were on; Challia watched the numbers tick upward and tried not to think about what awaited them once they’d reached the correct floor.

“If you’re nervous, don’t be,” said Char. “This’ll be a piece of cake. Dozle Zabi might be a scary-looking guy who talks big, but he’s not as bright as his siblings, and he knows it. All we have to do is play to his ego, and—!”

“I know,” said Challia.

“You do?” Char raised an eyebrow over the top of his sunglasses.

“Dozle Zabi used to be the head of my old production company,” said Challia. “He was the CEO until the Jupiter scandal, and afterward got relocated to HR at the main Zeon branch. Officially it was ‘taking responsibility’ for what had happened, but I don’t buy that. If they really wanted him to face consequences, he wouldn’t have been offered such a cushy reassignment. Degwin probably just wanted to put his son somewhere he could lay low until things blew over.”

Char stared at him for a while before finally responding, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you speak so coarsely about anyone, Challia.”

“Ah, sorry,” said Challia, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment. “Dozle’s mismanagement of the company contributed to what happened to Jupiter. Some part of me still resents him for it, I suppose.”

“No need to apologize,” said Char. “Once again it seems you and I are aligned in our dislike of the Zabis.”

Char turned his gaze back to the elevator doors.

“I’d like you to do something for me,” he said.

“Right now?”

“When we get there. I’d like you to let me handle this,” Char went on, “and ask that you stay quiet during the meeting, even if I say something that you know isn’t true. Can you do that for me?”

Challia looked at him quizzically; it was a somewhat ominous request, and Challia wasn’t sure he liked what it implied. He was uncomfortable with the prospect of having to stay silent while his partner tried whatever underhanded means he could to salvage their careers… but at the same time Challia couldn’t see any other way out of this, and doubted anything he contributed would help matters. He decided to trust that Char had a plan.

“I think I can manage that…”

“Good,” said Char. “You’re an honest man, Challia. I’ve always admired that about you. But…” His lips curled into a smile. “There are some things that only lies can accomplish.”

The elevator dinged, signaling their arrival at the floor housing the Human Resources department. Char stepped out first, and Challia followed behind him. He’d been up to this level of the building a few times before as a regular employee, when he’d needed to discuss things like benefits or time off, but he had never been summoned to the HR offices in a situation where he was at fault for something. He kept his eyes down as he followed Char to the far end, where Dozle’s office was.

Char rapped lightly on Dozle’s office door. Though it had a window, the glass was frosted, so one couldn’t tell who was inside.

“It’s MAV,” said Char. “You wanted to see us?”

“Right, yes. Come in,” a voice boomed from within.

Char and Challia shared a glance before heading inside.

Dozle Zabi had an office that befit someone in his position: spacious and well-furnished, with rows of file cabinets lining each wall (even in the space colonies, many official records and sensitive documents were still kept on paper—it was more secure than leaving a digital copy in some repository that could easily be hacked). Challia noticed immediately that Dozle’s ego had only grown in the years since he’d last seen him: the walls were covered in photos of him posing with various celebrities (all women, Challia noted), or alongside horses and their jockeys at a racetrack. The cadenza behind his desk was lined with photos of several different women, some holding young children, whose relationship to him was unclear.

The man himself was seated at his desk, hands folded in his lap and a scowl on his face. Next to his desk was seated an uptight-looking blond woman with hair tied up similarly tightly and a tablet in her lap. Challia recognized her as Gihren’s personal secretary. So even Gihren’s getting involved…

“Have a seat,” said Dozle, his voice absent any hospitality. Char and Challia sat down in the empty chairs opposite the desk. “Cecilia here is going to be taking notes on behalf of the company president. Hope that’s not a problem?”

“Not at all,” said Char.

“Great. And I imagine you boys already know why you’re here.”

“We do,” said Char. Challia nodded.

“Then I’m sure you already know what I’m about to say, but I’ll say it anyway,” Dozle went on. “I shouldn’t have to tell you that you crossed a line yesterday. Such… debauchery is frowned upon in your line of work. This isn’t the way an idol behaves—particularly on live television. The only reason you two weren’t sacked immediately was because of a noticeable spike in sales of your music after the interview finished airing.”

“The social media response was also a factor,” Cecilia added. “Normally the public backlash from a situation like this would force us to take action, but it seems your fans are more forgiving than most. You two were very lucky.”

“The lady’s right,” said Dozle. “Now, in light of these two things we have elected not to fire you for the time being—on the condition that you keep your personal and professional lives separate from now on. This will be your only warning. Your contracts clearly state that you are not allowed to engage in romantic or sexual relations, with anyone, and further misconduct will result in our terminating those contracts. Am I clear—?”

“Wait, wait,” said Char, holding his hands up. “Dozle… don’t tell me you thought that was real?”

Complete, stunned silence.

“Excuse me?” said Dozle finally.

“It was all fanservice. For the fans,” Char went on. “You didn’t really think we were dating each other, did you? That would be ridiculous.”

“Wh—how do you explain the hickey then, wise guy?!” Dozle shot back.

Char only laughed.

“Haven’t you heard of cupping therapy?” he responded. “You can get a similar effect with a regular glass. That’s all it was.”

One could practically see the gears turning in Dozle Zabi’s mind as he struggled to process this information. By now even Challia was looking at Char in disbelief. He had expected that his partner was going to try to spin some lie to get Dozle off their tail (he’d all but admitted as much in the elevator), but the sheer audacity of it was almost impressive. Even more unbelievable was that it seemed to be working.

“Is that true?” Cecilia asked. “Did you use cupping to produce that mark, Mr. Bull?”

Challia nodded wordlessly, though he wasn’t sure it would be enough to convince the others. He knew what the bruises left by cupping looked like; Char seemed to be betting that Dozle and Cecilia didn’t.

“Well! I have heard of cupping therapy, of course,” said Dozle, very convincingly. “I don’t know why that didn’t occur to me. But I’m still not sure I understand…”

“Challia and I have been acting as though we’re involved with each other for some time now,” Char explained. “Until now it’s all been winks and nods, subtle hints visible only those already looking for them—but we thought it might be fun if we upped the ante a little bit and did something more overt. Get people talking and generate some buzz for our work, that kind of thing. We apologize if it went over the line this time.”

“So… you’re saying it was all just a publicity stunt…?” said Dozle.

“Mm-hm,” said Char. “Our chemistry is our selling point—and as you’ve already observed, our profits speak for themselves. If fanservice sells, can you really blame us for trying to give our fans what they want to see?”

“… no, I suppose not…” said Dozle finally. “I hate to say it, but I do see the logic…”

“I knew you’d come around,” said Char.

“Still, you boys should be more careful,” said Dozle sternly. “This isn’t just about keeping your fans happy—it reflects badly on the company if you can’t behave yourselves. The Zabi family takes this company's reputation very, very seriously. So no more funny business, alright? Even if it’s fake.”

“If I might add on to that,” said Cecilia. “President Gihren asked me to pass a message along to the two of you as well.”

“Oh?” Char tilted his head, though his tone suggested he was not particularly interested in hearing it.

“Thanks to the spike in your sales numbers, President Gihren is willing to look the other way just this once,” Cecilia continued. “But the company president would like to remind you, Mr. Aznable, that the pendulum can always swing the other direction. He advises you to check your behavior in the future, to avoid additional… incidents that may affect your ability to continue performing under our label.”

“I understand,” said Char. “And President Gihren’s lenience in this instance is seen and appreciated.”

“I’m sure it is,” said Cecilia coldly. “Mr. Bull, do you have anything to add?”

Challia looked up at her.

“Er—no, I don’t think so,” he said. “We appreciate your understanding, and apologize for the trouble…”

“Of course.”

“If we’re all in agreement, then you two can go,” said Dozle. “I better not see you in this office again. Got it?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” said Char. He stood up, and Challia followed suit. “Come on, Challia, let’s get out of here.”

“Right…”

Char turned on his heel to leave; Challia bowed politely to Dozle before following his partner out of the office.

It wasn’t until they were safely in the elevator and headed back down to the lobby that Challia finally felt ready to breathe normally again.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

“Hm?”

“For covering for us…” Challia looked over at him. “You seem to be doing that a lot lately, and I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you properly. So thank you. I don’t know what I would have done in there without your help…”

“Of course,” said Char. “Wouldn’t get to be where I am without lying to a few Zabis once in a while. Furthermore, this actually worked out in our favor—beyond just keeping our jobs, I mean.”

“How so?”

“Dozle has a pretty obvious gambling habit, from the looks of his office,” said Char. “But with multiple partners and children to support, I’m left wondering where he finds the money for it. An unscrupulous individual could do a great deal of damage with this kind of knowledge… but we’ve had enough fun for one day.” He turned to Challia, smiling. “We’ve got a lot on our plate today, Challia—let’s give it our best!”

Challia nodded to him, warmly returning his smile.

“And, um…” Challia began.

“Hm?”

“You are, truthfully, in love with me though. Right…?” Challia furtively looked away. “That part wasn’t an act…?”

Char didn’t answer; he simply took Challia by the back of his head and pressed their lips together. Each time Challia tried to pull away, Char just pulled him closer; he held him there until the elevator dinged to signal they’d arrived at the lobby. Challia gasped as Char finally released him—mere moments before the doors opened.

“That clear it up?” Char asked playfully, walking backwards out of the elevator.

Challia scowled as he ran to catch up with him.

“A simple ‘yes’ would have sufficed—!”

Char’s laughter echoed in the lobby as the two of them hurried to their next engagement.

@MAV_Challia:

[Official Statement]

I would like to formally apologize to our fans for MAV’s behavior during the interview with Annqi. We have appreciated the kind words and messages of support from many of you over the last few days, and at the same time we know there were also fans who were made uncomfortable by our actions. We sincerely regret the lapse in judgment that led to this situation & offer our honest apology. In the future we will strive to deliver top quality performances without compromising our integrity or the support of our fans. We appreciate your continued support. 💚🪐

@MAV_Char:

I'm back! Sorry about the other day (we got put in social media time out 😱 ). I'll behave myself from now on, I prommy.

By the way, Challia asked me not to put it up so high, but - he's just so cute, i couldn't help wanting to be a little mean to him… you guys understand, right? 💕

@MAV_Challia (replying to @MAV_Char):

CHAR 🤦 🤦 🤦

Chapter Text

“So, as for what we discussed…”

“Yes, I had a feeling that’s why you came to see me.”

In an office not too dissimilar from the one inhabited by Dozle Zabi a few floors up (though perhaps more tastefully decorated), Chief Executive Producer Kycillia Zabi looked up from her laptop for the briefest of moments, catching her guest’s gaze to indicate she was listening before returning her attention to the screen.

“Well, about the money…” Annqi prodded.

“What about the money,” Kycillia replied disinterestedly.

“We agreed that I would get the second half of the payment once the interview was over,” said Annqi.

“The agreement was that the Red Comet would be out of a job before you got the second half,” said Kycillia curtly. “But for some reason, Char Aznable is still on my payroll.”

Annqi stiffened. The deal had been no different from her usual “deals,” on the surface. Annqi would leverage her expertise as a skilled provocateur to catch Char in a lie—to find some little thing he was hoping wouldn’t go public, and expose it to the world. She’d done similar to other celebrities countless times (it was a service she was happy to provide to anyone with a bone to pick and deep pockets), but she knew the Red Comet wouldn’t be an easy mark. For a man as evasive as Char Aznable, a mortal blow to his career from one interview was unlikely, but a few weeks’ worth of unpleasant press could be enough to pressure the company to take action. She hadn’t imagined that he would dangle such low-hanging fruit as an obvious hickey on his partner’s neck in front of her face. It was so easy that in the moment she had almost wondered whether she herself was being set up for something… but Char couldn’t have known that Kycillia had shuffled MAV’s schedule around at the last minute, slipping Annqi’s interview into his day unnoticed. Could he….?

“I held up my end, as far as I’m concerned,” Annqi insisted, folding her arms irritably. “It’s not my fault Gihren just decided not to fire him.”

“I paid you for a guarantee, and that was not what I received,” said Kycillia. “End of story. Now get out of my office before I decide to tell someone about your little side gig.”

Annqi stood up, slinging her purse strap over her shoulder.

“I’ll remember this,” she said, before turning on her heel and leaving the room in a huff. Kycillia did not look up from her work; only waited until she’d heard the door open and close to signal that Annqi had left.

“What a mess…” Kycillia murmured, rubbing her temple.

She’d come very close to getting him. Had it been any other performer in her jurisdiction, a blunder like that would have ended their career instantly. Contract terminated on the spot. Pack up your locker and go home. No ifs, ands, or buts. She’d been preparing Char’s termination letter herself when the call had come in from Gihren: he would be handling MAV’s punishment, alongside Dozle, and was officially taking it out of Kycillia’s hands. She’d been suspicious then, but learning that MAV’s contracts had not been terminated only confirmed her suspicions. Did Gihren have something in mind for the Red Comet, or was he merely trying to save face by not firing Zeon’s best-selling idol the instant he came out of the closet…?

The answer no longer mattered. The Red Comet had slipped through her grasp, and Kycillia was back to square one.

She glanced over at the photo frame on her desk: a picture of her and her siblings together with their father, taken shortly before his passing. The Zabi family did not all look particularly related to each other, though Kycillia and her older brother Gihren had the same severe gaze, and Dozle and Garma shared their purple hair. Kycillia’s eyes lingered on Garma in the photo. A bright young man who’d had a similarly bright future ahead of him, only for his dreams to be dashed in an instant. When his siblings had offered to cover for him, to smooth things over with the public so that he could keep performing, he’d nobly refused their help. The once beloved idol, Garma Zabi, disappeared from the public eye and cut contact with his siblings out of shame…

What was Gihren doing, letting the likes of Char Aznable off the hook while their own flesh and blood had been completely humiliated for the same mistake?

“Just you wait, Casval Deikun…” she said to herself. “I’ll have my revenge for what you did to my baby brother.”

Chapter Text

At the end of the week, Char invited Challia to their usual bar a second time—an invitation Challia was happy to accept. They passed a somewhat uneventful evening sipping wine and discussing their schedule for the coming week. In addition to a few recording sessions in preparation for their first album, it sounded like Dren and Mallygan were looking into options for acting and modeling gigs to help promote their brand. It was looking to be another busy week, but somehow, Challia found himself already looking forward to it. After all, it was more time spent with Char…

As their dinner began to wind down, Char broached a different topic:

“There’s somewhere I’d like to take you tonight, Challia. Are you free after this?”

Challia raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“Sure…?”

“If you don’t want to be out too late, I understand,” said Char.

“No, I don’t mind.” Challia smiled. “Where did you have in mind?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Hm…” As usual when Char was being coy with him, Challia wasn’t sure he liked where this was going—but in the end his curiosity got the better of him. “Alright. Lead the way, then.”

Char paid for their meal, and the two of them left the bar. He flagged down a taxi, and once they’d both gotten in he gave the driver a specific address rather than the name of a venue or store. Challia watched out the window as they passed lit-up shopping centers and office buildings, wondering where it was Char was taking him. It certainly wasn’t a part of town that he had ever been to; the streets didn’t look familiar to him.

After about twenty minutes of driving, Char leaned forward and tapped the driver on the shoulder.

“Here’s fine,” he said. “We can walk the rest of the way.”

“You sure?” the driver asked.

“Yes. I’ll tip you the difference in fare.”

“Alright, you’re the boss.”

The taxi pulled over, and Char got out before helping Challia onto the sidewalk. Challia glanced around while Char paid the fare. They were in what appeared to be a mostly residential neighborhood, with apartment high-rises and townhouses occasionally interrupted by shabby-looking corner stores. It wasn’t the sort of place an idol would be casually hanging out.

“It’s just a few blocks’ walk from here,” said Char.

“Why did you have him let us out?” Challia asked.

“Oh, figured I’d get some steps in on the way.”

Challia frowned; Char’s excuse was paper-thin at best. They were probably going somewhere he didn’t want the taxi driver to witness them walking into.

“You’re not taking me to an illegal gambling den or anything, are you?”

“What? No!” Char laughed. “Relax, Challia, jeez. I promise it’ll be fun.”

“And you’re sure it’s safe…?”

“Yes, oh my god. Lighten up.” Char took his hand with a smile. “Challia. Do you trust me?”

Challia sighed to himself.

“Against my better judgment… yes.”

“Then come on.”

Char started walking, and Challia quickly fell into step alongside him. It took Challia longer than it should have to realize that Char was still holding his hand. He knew they probably shouldn’t be seen holding hands in public, but he still couldn’t bring himself to let go. There was something… comforting, about the way their hands fit together.

Challia’s head was on a swivel as the two of them walked, wondering which of the still-open establishments Char could be thinking of taking him to. This neighborhood didn’t seem to have much in the way of nightlife; the streets were mostly empty and many of the storefronts were already dark. Char was unusually quiet, though Challia noticed him pull his mask down to expose the lower half of his face.

He didn’t want the taxi driver as a witness, but suddenly he’s showing his face…?

Finally, Char came to a stop in front of what appeared to be a hotel, though it had fewer windows than the surrounding buildings. Challia glanced upward, noticing the hotel had a flickering neon sign displaying its name. “Hotel Cherry,” the sign read—alongside a logo of an upside-down pair of cherries that together made the shape of a heart.

“Is this a…?” Challia began, but he couldn’t quite get himself to say the words love hotel out loud.

“Sure is,” said Char, glancing over at him. “Come on, let’s go check in.”

“Check in—you reserved a room already?!”

But Char didn’t answer. Instead he strode through the front doors, practically dragging Challia along with him.

Inside, the lobby was simpler and more discreet than Challia would have expected of a love hotel (not that he’d ever been inside one). It was sparsely decorated, with plain walls, inoffensive wall art, and unassuming furniture. In lieu of a front desk or concierge, there was a row of touch screens along one wall. Char approached one and tapped through the menus to reserve a room for a few hours.

“They don’t take reservations in advance,” Char explained. “Oh, and this should go without saying, but I’m paying.”

“I figured you were, but—are we really doing this?”

“Hm?” said Char. “You don’t want to have me all to yourself for a few hours?”

“Well—!”

“Two hours okay? Or do you think we’ll need three?”

“Two is probably fine…” Challia mumbled. “I mean—wait, no! Slow down! We can’t seriously be—!”

There was a whir from the machine as it dispensed a single plastic keycard. Char had already reserved and paid for the room.

“We’ll be on the sixth floor,” said Char. “Come on.”

“Char—!”

But Char was already making his way to the elevator, and Challia had little choice but to follow him. The elevator was small and somewhat dingy; there were cracks in the paneling and one of the overhead light bulbs was out. Char pressed the “6” button on the control panel as the doors slid to a close.

“Are you trying to get us fired?” Challia blurted finally. “A love hotel?! We only barely escaped with our jobs after the hickey thing, and now this—?!”

“It’ll help sell the narrative that we’re having an affair, of course,” said Char, simply, as though this should have been obvious. “Tabloid writers like to prowl around places like these, hoping to catch a celebrity doing something unseemly. A pair of celebrities, coming here hand in hand—irresistible. It’ll be all over the gossip mags by Monday. Oh, and lest you worry, Dozle already thinks we're faking it, so anything we do from here on is unlikely to land us in his office again. Not that tabloid headlines would be worth his attention, of course, but just in case.”

Challia could only stare at him, mouth agape.

So that’s why he took his mask off on the way here. He deliberately wanted us to be seen.

“Still—!”

The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open.

“You could have just told me that’s what it was for…” Challia grumbled as Char set off down the hallway.

“I could have,” said Char. He turned around, walking backwards with his hands in his pockets. “But I wanted to see the look on your face when we got here.”

“Was it worth it?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

Char came to a stop outside a room Challia presumed was theirs. He slipped the key into the reader, unlocking the door. He took a moment to hang the “do not disturb” placard on the handle, then motioned for Challia to follow him inside.

The room itself, while gaudily decorated, seemed to be in better shape than the rest of the hotel. In the absence of ceiling lights, a number of table lamps provided a moody atmosphere. A king-size bed sat in the middle of the room, with red linens and an abundance of pillows (Challia’s eyes were drawn to a pink heart-shaped pillow emblazoned with the word “YES;” he immediately tried to find something else to look at.) There were antique-style chairs in one corner with similar red upholstery, and a desk that didn’t seem like it got much use. On the desk there was a small basket of free amenities: alongside the usual mini shampoo and lotion bottles, there were travel-size bottles of lube and various sizes of condom.

While Challia stood there wordlessly trying to process the situation in which he now found himself, Char unbuttoned his coat and hung it on the rack by the door. He took his sunglasses off and tucked them into his coat pocket before turning to face Challia again.

“Sorry for not saying anything earlier,” he said, more gently this time. “Are you alright, Challia? We don't have to do anything, if you don't want to. The important thing is for us to be seen entering and leaving.”

“… bringing me to a place like this, just for a publicity stunt…” said Challia distantly.

“Well, that was only part of it,” said Char. “The other, much more important part of it was to get you alone, somewhere there's no chance of us being interrupted…”

Char sidled up to him, putting a hand on his waist and drawing him closer.

“… and something tells me you wouldn't mind picking up where we left off in the green room, either.”

Challia flushed brightly, in spite of himself. He didn’t want to admit just how badly he did want that; nor that it had been gnawing at the back of his mind all week. Just thinking about it was enough to push him past his unease and doubt, to the full realization that he was alone in a private room with Char—with two hours in which they were guaranteed not to be disturbed.

“I think… I’d like that very much,” he said.

“Then come here,” said Char, but he was already leaning in to kiss him. Challia let out a soft groan and practically sank into the kiss; he brought a hand up and gently cupped Char’s cheek in his palm.

“You’ve been wanting this all week, haven’t you,” said Char as he pulled away.

“Yes…” Challia admitted.

“Me too.”

Char took Challia’s hands in his and started walking, slowly guiding him over to the bed. Challia followed willingly, his eyes only leaving Char’s when his partner sat down on the edge of the bed. Challia took a seat next to him, but he’d barely gotten himself seated before Char went in for another kiss. Challia couldn't hold back another needy sigh; he reached up and wrapped his arms around Char's neck. He wouldn’t have minded if they spent the whole two hours just kissing like this, but Char seemed to have other ideas. He leaned into each kiss, easing Challia backwards with a gentle hand on his chest. Before he knew it his back was on the sheets, and Char was kneeling over him with a mischievous smile on his lips.

“Char…” Challia began, but Char pressed his mouth to Challia's before he could say anything further. Challia brought his hands up to the back of Char’s head, tangling his fingers in those golden curls. Char twitched a little in response to his touch, and for a second Challia worried he’d overstepped—but in the next instant Char’s tongue slipped between his lips, as if to reward his taking initiative. Challia responded in kind, playfully teasing Char’s tongue with his own.

Fuck, Challia. Keep kissing me like this and I’ll do whatever the hell you want…!

Challia once again wondered if he was hearing things. Char’s voice had sounded so clearly in his ears, but with their mouths both very much occupied it wasn’t possible for him to have said anything.

Am I hearing… what Char is thinking?

Char released him with a soft gasp, and Challia took this as a sign to loosen his grip. Char sat up, and Challia took a moment to catch his breath; he kicked his shoes off and scooted backward to get his legs fully on the bed. Char approached him on his hands and knees.

“You alright, Challia?” he asked.

“Yes…” Challia took a deep breath. “I…”

But would Char believe him, if he suddenly said he could read his partner’s mind? It would have explained other oddities from the last few months that had been nagging at him (the way they seemed to sync up when they danced, and Challia’s almost uncanny ability to guess what Char was trying to tell him just from the look in his eyes), but he wasn’t sure he was ready to make the final cognitive leap. “Telepathy” belonged to the realm of fantasy. It wasn’t a real thing… was it?

“Challia…” Char smiled. “You worry too much. Relax.”

“How did you know I was worrying?”

“Just a hunch.” Char leaned in to kiss him, more gently this time. “How about I give you something else to think about?”

Char brought his hands up to the buttons on Challia’s shirt and started undoing them one by one. This time, he didn’t stop at just a few: he kept going until he had to untuck Challia’s shirt to get the last one, then pulled each half of the shirt aside. Challia found himself shivering, half from cold and half from anticipation: his partner had seen him shirtless plenty of times by now, with all the changing they did on a day-to-day basis—but never like this. Never with such hunger in his eyes as he glanced him over, admiring Challia’s body like a three-course meal.

“You’re staring…” was all Challia could think to say.

“Sorry,” said Char. “It’s just… your chest hair.”

Challia flushed brightly.

“My—what about it?”

“It’s cute.”

“Cute—?!”

“It’s the same color as your hair.”

“Why wouldn’t it be—?!” Challia brought his arms up over his chest defensively. Body hair was already something of a sore point for him, and he wasn’t sure how to react to seeing Char so taken with it. Char gently lifted Challia’s arms out of the way before leaning down and planting a soft kiss in the middle of his chest. Challia jumped at his touch.

“You’re always so shy about it,” Char murmured against his skin. “And that makes it even cuter. But it’s not just cute…” Char laid another kiss on his chest, lingering just a little bit longer this time. “It’s really sexy.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

Char kissed a line across his chest, each subsequent kiss a little more playful than the last, before finally diving in for a much less chaste kiss just above his heart. Challia let out a yelp in surprise, but did not move to stop him—it felt good, and was all the more enjoyable now that he didn’t have to worry about hiding it. After a few moments Char released him with a pop, leaving a bright bruise in his wake.

“There,” said Char quietly. “This time no one will be able to see it. It’ll be our secret.”

Challia nodded wordlessly back to him, though he couldn’t look Char in the eyes.

That’s… why was that so hot??

“Hm?” said Char.

“Um…” Challia bit his lip, bashfully. He glanced back at Char for a brief moment, but furtively looked away again. “I wouldn’t mind, if you… wanted to keep doing that…”

“You liked that?”

“More than I care to admit…”

“In that case…!”

Char bent down, his teeth grazing Challia’s collarbone before taking the skin into his mouth. This time he didn’t stop at just one: he peppered Challia’s chest with greedy kisses, moving from one spot to the next almost in a frenzy. Challia’s breath caught in his throat each time Char took hold of his skin, tugging just hard enough to leave a mark but not enough to hurt him. It was a show of dominance, naturally, covering one’s partner in obvious marks—but there was something else in Char’s kisses that Challia couldn’t quite name. The way his lips lingered at each spot, reverently, as if each kiss was vow of fealty with a bruise as its seal…

“I wonder…” said Char, pausing to admire his handiwork. He’d taken particular care to avoid leaving marks in places that would be visible. “Is it the actual act you enjoy, or the knowledge that I’m marking you as mine?”

“For the love of—!” Challia had half a mind to get up and walk out, hickeys and all.

“Alright, I’ll stop teasing you,” said Char with a laugh. He bent down, gently kissing Challia’s collarbone. “Or maybe you’d like me to tease you a little more?”

“I don’t know how much more teasing my heart can take…”

“Mm, then I’d better stop messing around.”

Char swung his leg over Challia’s lap, straddling him; he bent down to lay a soft kiss below Challia’s ear. This, of course, was just a distraction—something to hold his partner’s attention while his hands snuck down to Challia’s fly.

“Oh—!”

“Phew,” said Char playfully, glancing down. “You’re this hard already?”

“Listen…” Challia turned his head to bury his face in his arm in embarrassment.

Char massaged him gently, just as he had in the green room; as if to gauge whether this much contact was permissible. Challia let out another needy sound from somewhere deep in his throat, which told Char all he needed to know.

“More?” Char asked.

“Yes, please…!”

Char took a moment to undo his partner’s fly, then pulled his pants down and out of the way. Challia’s boxers soon followed, exposing his already very eager cock. Char raised an eyebrow, smile widening into a grin.

“Oh, you are horny…!”

“No shit—!”

“Horny enough to swear, even,” said Char bemusedly.

“Char…!” Challia’s voice came out more of a whine than he would have liked.

“Alright, alright. Here…”

Char wrapped his fingers around Challia’s cock and gave it a gentle squeeze. Challia inhaled sharply, clamping his eyes shut. It was the first time anyone else had ever touched him like that—he hadn’t been prepared for how different it felt to have someone else holding it.

“Er… fair warning…” he said. “It’s been a while since I last… you know…”

“Since you…?” Char knew what he meant, but wanted to hear him say it anyway.

“Since I last…” Challia was so embarrassed he had to force the words out. “Jerked off, so…”

“That’s…. fine?”

“I might not… last very long, is what I’m saying…”

“I see.” Char repositioned himself, scooting backwards on the bed. He took hold of Challia’s cock once more, rubbing it encouragingly with his thumb. Challia shivered a little in his grip. “I’ll have to make sure I don’t waste any time, then.”

“Huh—?!”

But before Challia could say anything further, Char had already bent down and closed his mouth over the tip.

“Oh—!”

Challia brought a hand up to his mouth; he hadn’t expected to react so loudly. Char hummed to himself in amusement, but did not release him. Nor did Challia want him to—even just the tip was…!

“Char…!”

Ooh, that was a good sound.

Char changed tactics, lapping at the head with his tongue—even this small change produced an entirely different sensation. Challia let out a strained mewl; it was taking all of his self-control not to come there and then. The sight of his undeniably attractive partner—his handsome face framed by delicate curls, downcast gaze almost hiding behind his blond lashes—with Challia’s cock in his mouth was already almost too much. And the thought that this was a side of Char Aznable that only he got to see…

He reached out, tangling his fingers in Char’s hair.

“That’s…! That’s good, Char. God, that’s—!”

Char hummed in response; seemingly spurred on by the praise, he gave the base of Challia’s cock a meaning squeeze before sucking on him a little bit harder. He bobbed his head up and down, pushing Challia’s cock in and out with a steady, maddening rhythm. Challia was already seeing stars from the sensation alone, but getting to watch his partner in the actual act of sucking him off was unbelievably hot. He was quickly reaching the point where everything else seemed to fall away—there was only the warmth of Char’s mouth, and how desperately he wanted to be all the way inside it. Challia rocked his hips without thinking, pushing himself even further in—and Char grabbed Challia’s waist with both hands to hold him steady.

Good. Don't worry about me—let yourself get lost in it.

I want you to come for me, Challia Bull.

“Oh—oh fuck, Char, I’m—!”

Challia came before he could say the word out loud—sooner than he would have liked, but he’d held out longer than he expected to. Char gently worked him through his climax, ensuring he’d gotten every last drop out before finally releasing his partner's cock. Challia collapsed backward on the pillows, stars still dancing in his eyes well after his orgasm had begun to fade.

Good lord.

At first Challia just stared up at the ceiling for a few minutes in a daze; he didn't think he'd ever come quite that hard.

I suppose there’s something to be said for having another person’s assistance…

Particularly when that person was Char Aznable.

It took a while for him to regain the strength to move. After a time Challia finally sat back up, expecting to find a sticky mess waiting for him—but his body and the sheets were clean, as was his partner’s face (for the most part). He looked around in confusion, trying to figure out where the rest of it had gone. It had felt like he’d come a fair amount…

“Er… What happened to the…” Challia began—but Char was looking back at him with a cheeky smile, and it finally dawned on him what had happened. “You didn’t…”

“I did.”

“You didn’t have to go so far for me…”

“I know,” said Char. He brushed a stray fleck of cum off his chin with his thumb and licked it clean, all without breaking eye contact. “But I wanted to.”

Once again Challia wondered whether Char had done work on adult videos in the past. He found himself envying his partner’s composure—he didn’t think he could pull off a gesture that lewd even for work.

“Where did you even learn a move like that…?”

“I have my secrets,” said Char playfully.

“Anyway…” Challia looked away. “Sorry for coming so fast…”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” said Char. “Felt good, didn’t it?”

“It was incredible…” Challia admitted.

Char leaned in for a kiss, but Challia held a hand up to stop him.

“Not until you’ve washed your mouth,” he said.

“That’s fair.”

Char hopped off the bed and dashed into the bathroom. Challia could do little more than wait for him; he took a moment to fully remove his shirt and slip the rest of the way out of his pants and boxers. He didn’t want to risk any further clothing-related close calls; they still had to walk home after this. after all…

When Char came back from the bathroom, he noticed his now fully naked partner lying in wait for him on the bed and let out a whistle.

“You didn’t waste any time,” he remarked. “Still feeling friendly, Challia?”

“Well…” said Challia bashfully. “I figured you would still be…”

“Ready to go? Absolutely.”

Char practically hopped over to the bed, shedding layers at lightning speed. He abandoned his own shirt on the floor, and was already working the button loose on his pants when Challia brought his hands up to help.

“May I?” Challia asked gently.

“Go for it,” said Char.

Challia undid the fastening on his partner’s pants and pulled them down, but he couldn’t help laughing a little once they'd slid out of the way. Underneath the black slacks he’d worn to work, Char was wearing bright red underwear.

“You really do like red, don’t you.”

“Always have.”

“You know… I’m starting to become fond of it, too.” Challia slipped a thumb under the band, giving it a slight tug down and out of the way before laying a soft kiss on the newly exposed skin. “It reminds me of you.”

“Ah…” said Char. He brought a hand up to his mouth and looked away, trying to hide the fact that he was genuinely touched to hear this—but he couldn’t quite get the smile off his face. “You really are too cute for your own good, Challia.”

“Thanks…?”

“Now…” Char pulled his underwear the rest of the way off and climbed back onto the bed. He sat himself down next to Challia, glancing only briefly down at his own erection before meaningfully meeting Challia’s gaze. “Why don’t you give me a hand with this?”

“I think that can be arranged,” Challia replied, smiling.

Challia took Char’s cock in hand carefully, noting a slight difference in size compared to what he was used to. Just as it had felt strange for another person to hold his, it felt similarly strange to hold someone else’s: the same general shape but with none of the physical feedback he was used to… but he didn’t dwell on this thought for very long. Char was waiting for him expectantly. He gave his partner’s cock a gentle squeeze before starting to move his hand—slowly at first, carefully gauging Char’s reaction.

“You’ve never done this for another person before, have you?” Char asked.

“No…” Challia faltered a little. “Was it that obvious?”

“Yeah, kinda,” said Char. “But don’t worry. Try squeezing a little tighter. You’re not going to hurt me, I promise.”

Challia nodded, then obediently tightened his grip; Char twitched in response, but he was quick to give Challia an encouraging smile.

“That’s more like it.”

Still, Challia couldn't get past the creeping doubt of his own inexperience. He didn’t want to disappoint him, after everything he’d done to get Challia off earlier…

“I don't know that I'm the most suited to… er, taking the lead…”

“Sure you are.” Char wasn’t about to let him off the hook so easily. “Show me that assertiveness you had on the First Take. I want you to get my heart pounding like that again. I bet you can. No—I know you can.”

For a moment, Challia could only stare at him. As always, Char somehow knew exactly what to say to give him the last push he needed to move forward. (Though part of him also wanted to point out that his “assertiveness” on the show had just been lashing out in annoyance and sexual frustration both, but maybe Char didn't need to know that.) He returned his attention to the cock in his hand and started stroking it, squeezing slightly more than he thought was necessary. Char’s reaction—a sharp inhale, followed by a wanting sigh—told him he was right on the money. Challia fell into a regular rhythm, pumping his partner's cock the way he normally did for himself. Char’s breathing was coming faster and heavier now, hitching in time with his movements.

“….Good,” Char managed finally. “Oh, that’s good. Try using your thumb to—oh!”

Challia figured out what he wanted before he’d even reached the end of the sentence. He’d already positioned his thumb over the tip, tapping it lightly with each stroke.

“Like this?”

“Yes. God, yes. You’re doing amazing, Challia…!”

He wasn’t sure why, but the sound of his name made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He set about his task with renewed fervor, and Char let out a gasp of surprise.

“Challia—!”

Hearing Char calling his name so desperately only incensed him further. Challia leaned forward, touching his forehead to Char’s—and he brought his free hand to the back of his partner’s head to hold him steady while his other hand mercilessly jerked him off. Char seemed to melt in Challia’s hands: it wasn’t just that his body curled into him, letting his partner support his full weight—it felt as though the lines between them were blurring in a haze of sensation. Challia could feel something hot and desperate building inside him… and after a moment he realized that what he was feeling was his own grip on Char, mirrored back to him in his own body.

I want you…

He couldn’t be sure whose heart that thought had come from.

“Keep going, keep going! I’m so close…!”

Challia didn’t need him to say it aloud; he could feel just how close he was. And at this distance, he could feel just as easily what his partner wanted. With two fingers he pushed lightly at the back of Char’s neck, just below his head—tilting his face upward just enough to kiss him.

“Mm—!”

That was enough to push him over the edge. Char came completely undone, spilling himself messily all over both their laps. Challia held their lips together for as long as he could, gently massaging Char’s cock to help him finish even as his own body was overwhelmed with the phantom sensation of his partner’s climax. If he’d had any more left in him to spend, he would have come a second time…

Did you feel it like this when I came, earlier…?

Challia finally released him, and Char took a few gasping breaths as he struggled to get his senses back in order. Once his breathing started to return to normal, he glanced over at Challia with a satisfied smile.

“Not bad for your first time,” he said.

“Just ‘not bad’…?”

“I'm actually kind of impressed,” Char admitted. “You're a quick learner, Challia. You guessed what I wanted right away.”

“Well...” Challia elected not to tell his partner that thanks to the direct telepathic line he now had to Char's brain, there was actually very little guesswork involved.

Char lay his head on Challia's shoulder, letting out a contented sigh.

“I should make you take the wheel more often,” he went on. “Grabbing my head and kissing me like that… I thought I was going to lose my mind.”

“I don’t know what to say to that…”

“It’s a compliment. Take it.”

Challia couldn’t help laughing, lightly.

“If you say so… then thank you.” He nuzzled into Char’s curls before adding, “We should get cleaned up.”

“Yeahhh….” Char glanced over the mess he’d made. “Probably.”

Challia grabbed the tissue box off the nightstand, and the two of them mopped up as best they could. Most of it had landed on their legs, but there were definitely a few spots on the sheets… Challia felt a little bit bad, but he supposed that the cleaning staff at a love hotel must be used to such things. Once they were both something resembling clean, Char hopped off the bed and went into the bathroom. The sound of running water came forth from the open door.

“You’re showering here?” Challia asked.

“Why shouldn’t I? There’s free shampoo.”

“How are we on time…?”

“We have plenty.” Char peeked his head out from the doorway, a mischievous smile on his lips. “Wanna shower together?”

Challia flushed brightly.

“Oh! Um… Yes, that would be lovely…”

Challia stood up from the bed and crossed the room to join Char in the bathroom, closing the door behind himself. The bathroom was larger than the one he had at home, and clearly designed to accommodate two people at a time (though there was still just the one sink). It also had a more standard shower/tub combination, as opposed to the separate shower and soaking tub he was used to. While Char busied himself with adjusting the water temperature, Challia glanced at himself in the mirror—and finally saw the full extent of the bruises scattered across his chest. They painted a particularly vivid picture of what had transpired that evening.

He didn’t hold back this time, either. It’s a good thing we don’t have any shoots coming up where I need to be shirtless; Dren would kill me. And then probably kill Char for putting them there….

And yet… he couldn’t help smiling.

“Water’s perfect,” said Char, drawing Challia from his thoughts. The two of them stepped carefully into the shower, one after another. As he watched his partner squirt soap into his hand, Challia couldn’t help feeling that there was something… intimate about sharing the water like this, in a distinctly different way than their earlier fooling around had been. It was strange—the Red Comet’s physique was already familiar to him; to see him like this should have been no different than usual. But there was something more to it than that. In such a narrow space, with nothing but the running water between them, there could be no room for secrets…

Challia found the courage to voice the thought that had been at the back of his mind since they’d arrived.

“Char…” he began, “Next time you want to have sex, it’s alright to just ask.”

“Huh?” Char paused mid-scrub to give Challia his full attention.

“You don’t have to cook up some elaborate scheme to get me alone, or make up some reason it can be for the fans,” Challia went on. “Anytime you want to have sex with me, just say so. I probably won’t say no.” Challia brushed his damp hair out of his eyes before adding, “I mean—unless we’re at work, obviously. But even then, I’d be happy to go home with you at the end of the day…”

For a moment Char didn’t say anything, and Challia worried he’d said something wrong—but Char reached out and took his face in his hands, looking him straight in the eyes.

“Challia Bull… I want to have sex with you. Right now.”

“R-Right now?!” Challia spluttered. “We just—!”

“Yes, right now,” Char repeated, his expression one of utmost seriousness. “I already want to fuck you again.”

“Hold on—!”

But Char pulled him into a warm, slow kiss, and Challia let his uncertainty wash away with the water…

* * *

The two of them checked out of their room just before their allotted time was up. They left Hotel Cherry behind and stepped out into the cool night air, hand in hand, with smiles as big as anything.