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Nobody was really assigned a vocal room. You took whichever one was available, though every artist had their preferred spot; closer to the entrance, or further away near the sad little water fountain that was always missing cups.
Maki always liked number 11. It felt just right not too pretentious.
When he opened the door, he was hit with the smell of sweat, a sickly aroma that broke through the air and turned acrid. His nose flared, picking apart the rawness and the cheap deodorant. Someone was here today. A guy, a really nasty one. And it made him feel hot.
Maki scoffed and slumped into the chair, his head falling back against the headrest. He breathed in slowly. The odor was bearable, he was used to it from dancing in studios. This one was just stronger, slightly sweeter. He hated how much his body enjoyed the familiarity of it, how manly and heavy it was...
No. He needed to rest. Just for a moment, away from the practice room, away from the staff, away from the fans waiting in the lobby. His hand instinctively reached for the seat lever, pushing it down until the back reclined into a near-horizontal position.
“Perfect...” Maki sighed, already feeling his thoughts collapse in on themselves. A short sleep. Just a few minutes before the next schedule...
The door flew open. Cool air and ambient hallway noise spilled into the room. Maki cracked one eye open, his upside-down view catching on jeans, a grey hoodie.
“Maki.”
It was dry. Emotionless. Like his voice didn’t even belong to a person. A block of bone and flesh without a soul. That’s how Maki saw him.
“It’s fucking occupied, James,” Maki muttered, tilting his head, recognizing him and dragging out the name like it tasted bland.
“Well, I was here first.” James pointed to the floor, a gym bag folded neatly, the fabric melting into the room’s shadow. “So get out.”
It was the first time they’d spoken in months, and Maki still couldn’t stand him.
“Take your shit and find another room. I’m in deep sleep right now.” Maki added, eyes now fully closed.
He thought he had won. No response came. Of course the guy who smelled like shit was James.
A hand wrapped around the side of the chair, tilting it sharply. Maki hit the floor, rolling across the carpet and landing hard on his elbow, pain shooting up his arm.
“What the actual fuck?!” he almost screamed, getting up to his knees.
“Looks like you’re not sleeping anymore,” James said flatly. “So get out. Unless you want to practice those... vocals.”
James looked down at him, arms folded, a strained expression crossing his face, like it pained him to even look at the other. Maki couldn’t believe his ears. His hands folded into fists as he rose, kicking the chair aside. He pressed in close to James, a wave of satisfaction hitting him as the other had to look up at him now.
“From someone with a shit voice and—” he exaggerated a sniff, plugging his nose “—trash hygiene, you sure talk a lot, bitch.”
Maki’s satisfaction was short-lived. James didn’t even flinch, he just rolled his eyes.
“Maki, Maki, Maki,” he said, almost disappointed. “Your insults don’t hit the same as before.”
Maki wanted to hit him, but James spoke first.
“Remember Justin? Before he left the company, he told me something very interesting. Apparently, you like to smell other guys’ dirty trunks.”
The words punched the air out of Maki’s lungs. His heart slowed to a crawl. He didn’t even have time to recover before James went on.
“I wonder if the other guy would care now. Since you like ‘trash hygiene’.”
James had that slight tug at the corner of his mouth, like he’d just pulled off the best move on a chessboard. Maki wasn’t even processing it, shame and guilt burned through his mind. The fact that it was true was the worst part.
“I— I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The stammer came out strained, his voice cracking like puberty had decided to come back.
“No need to hide it,” James said lazily. “The only thing I’m wondering is how hard mine made you feel down your little dick.”
James pointed vaguely downward, nowhere specific. Maki pulled his legs in close, his cheeks burning with embarrassment.
“Bye.” He needed to leave. Fast.
James leaned back against the door just as Maki reached for the handle.
“No, stay, Maki. I’m very curious. Do you specifically like dirty guys’ underwear, or is it every underw—”
“What the fuck do you want!” Maki snapped, harsher than he meant, but he was at the end of a very short fuse.
“Apologize.” James’s cocky smile dropped as the word left his mouth.
Maki blinked, thrown off. “For what?”
“For throwing me under the bus that day.”
Oh.
~~~
To be loved is to be safe. That’s what his mother used to tell him when he was young.
Coming to an unknown place where every boy seemed to already know each other was scary. Not understanding the language, dealing with random growth spurts, puberty heating his system, dancing, singing for hours. He had no friends here and he needed some fast.
“You’re next, dude.” Maki jumped onto him.
He didn’t really care why he started tickling the other trainees where they sat in their dorm room, but it made the others laugh. Maybe it was his intent or his silliness, at least it didn’t require him to speak too much in unfamiliar words.
“What—” the boy tried to say, but Maki didn’t let him finish.
He was on a mission, tackling the boy to the ground, sitting on top of him; Maki’s legs framing and blocking the boy from escaping. He slid his hand under the other’s armpit, the fabric soft under his fingers, and began to tickle him.
It was the fifth one he’d done, and he was starting to weirdly find his rhythm, seeing surprise and rejection before the inevitable explosion of laughter. Everyone around him cheered, happy to watch someone else taking it, torture feeling fine when they weren't the one under Maki's hand. Faces scrunched, eyes closed, bodies writhing on the floor like worms. He could almost hear himself counting seconds before moving to the next. But the one he was on top of slowed, his body almost spasmed, and then Maki heard it: a moan. Everyone heard it.
Maki saw the boy’s complexion flush red, his breath heavy, a small tear escaping from the corner of his eye. The sound, the look.... it was so hot.
“James?” one of the trainees asked, weirded out, addressing the one on the floor beneath him.
Maki saw James open his eyes like he was coming back from somewhere and Maki did what he had to do.
“Ew, dude, are you gay or something?” Maki laughed as he said it, and like a hive mind, they all started laughing too.
Gay was disgusting. Gay was weird. James was the gay guy now, the one who moaned while being mounted by another boy.
With shame and humiliation, he made friends. He was safe.
~~~
“Was it that big of a deal…” Maki tried to play it cool, an afterburn lingering in his throat.
James was expressionless.
“You arriving in this company was the worst thing that happened to me. You ruined every friendship I had. It was like I had the plague. So the last decent thing you can do is apologize.”
Dry like sandpaper, but the words rang true. Maki felt guilt crush his spirit, a heavy burden pressing on his soul and now weighing on his body as his shoulders slouched forward.
“Sorry…” he breathed out, head turned to the side, unable to look James in the eyes.
“Say it like you mean it,” James replied.
Maki exhaled and turned to face him.
“I’m sorry, dude—”
“Oh, you can do better than that.” James’s expression didn’t change.
Embarrassed and brittle, Maki got to his knees and pressed his forehead to the ground. The carpet scratched against his skin, and the smell of dust filled his nose. For a moment, the whole world shrank to the pulse echoing in his head. Nothing felt more humiliating than this kind of apology, but maybe that was the point. He thought about that day again, the laughter, the looks, the way James’s face had gone still when everyone turned on him. Maki couldn’t even remember what it felt like to laugh without guilt crawling up his throat.
“I’m so sorry for what I’ve done to you, James!” he almost screamed, the words trembling against the floor.
For a second, nothing happened. Just his own breath, ragged and uneven, bouncing back at him from the carpet. Then Maki heard a sigh and a shuffle. When he looked up, James was crouched next to him.
“Didn’t think I’d ever hear you say it,” he said flatly, hand lost in his hair. “Turns out it doesn't make me feel better.”
Maki stayed still, like he needed permission to move again.
“I— I don’t know how to apologize better,” Maki said breathlessly, his knees burning from the pressure of his own weight.
James flashed him an annoyed look before dismissively waving his hand.
“Sit down. It’s embarrassing.”
Maki didn’t let him say it twice, flopping onto his side into a slightly more comfortable position.
“Are you… are you going to tell them?” Maki asked, testing the water, seeing what he could and couldn’t say.
“No. Since I’m not like you,” James said flatly. The bitterness made Maki look down.
“I never meant for it to get that bad. It was just a joke between friends and it kept… building up?” He struggled to find the right word, something neutral, something that wouldn’t make it worse.
“Building up, yeah. Like I was out fucking every weekend. Like I was watching you guys sleep and shower. Or my favorite, that I debuted because I sucked off the manager and CEO.”
James laughed for the first time. It was just like Maki remembered clear and husky, a low rumble interrupted by breathy inhales. It pained him to hear it again, especially in this circumstance.
“I did bully you. We all did,” he admitted, the words heavy but true on his tongue.
James nodded slowly.
“I hate you,” James said, and something in Maki broke “But I hate them more. At least you had the decency to own it.”
A restlessness stirred in Maki’s chest, like his body couldn’t decide whether to breathe or collapse. The whole exchange felt undeserved, tilted, as if James was giving him a mercy he hadn’t earned. He wanted James to scream at him, to tell him every awful thing he’d done and how it had followed him. When James looked up at him, exhaustion was written all over his face, like the anger and resentment had drained him completely.
“Punch me,” Maki said suddenly.
James recoiled, staring like Maki had lost his mind.
“Dude, punch me,” he repeated, crawling toward James and presenting his left cheek. He deserved more. He knew he deserved to be dragged through worse.
“What? No—” James started, but the door behind him stopped him from backing away. Instead, he slid down to the floor, melting into it until Maki was on top of him.
“Fucking do it! Slap me, punch me I promise you’ll feel better after.” Maybe determination drove him, or maybe guilt, but he didn’t even realize how familiar their position was until he noticed the flush of red on James’s ears.
“Maki… you don’t get to decide how I heal.”
His face was clenched, tense. Even in the shadow of Maki’s body, James’s complexion looked darker, beads of sweat gathering on his forehead. Maki blinked at the sight, his hands on either side of the other’s face. Nothing had changed, he still felt that same bang in his chest, the awful turmoil that brought them here, that had put James in this situation. Forcing a name onto him. Violating him.
“Fuck, I’m so sorry. I should leave you alon—”
Maki would have moved away if James’s hands hadn’t planted themselves on either side of him, stopping him cold. He was painfully aware of how strong the other's grip was holding him there, sitting on top of James. James was wild-eyed too, like he’d just realized how close they were, but still stayed firm as he spoke.
“Don’t go. I have something to say.”
Flushed red lips parted, the words escaping in a breath. Maki was having a hard time concentrating, his head slowly spinning out of orbit. Maybe James wanted to spit on him. Make him bark. Cuck him instead of taking physical revenge.
“I have my faults too. It just wasn’t a problem until you started one. I told our vocal trainer you smoke, that you didn’t deserve to debut.”
Maki remembered the shift in how the staff treated him when he coughed from exhaustion or sickness, the harsh words without reason, how he’d been excluded from recording at the beginning. His only point of pride, his voice, shattered.
“Maybe we’re even,” James continued.
Maki shook his head. He didn’t want it to be that easy, an exchange of wrongs, a clean ledger. His chest ached at the idea of walking away even. After everything, he felt like there should be a cost. There had to be.
“Don’t compare what I did to you to that,” he said, taking a deep breath. James’s face was too hard to look at, too open, too vulnerable. “I deserve it. For projecting onto you…”
James’s hand burned against his side, and when the boy’s thumb rubbed small circles on Maki’s skin, he clenched his teeth to stop a sound from escaping.
“Projecting?” The word came out laced with something soft, too sweet. James’s tone edging into a higher register.
Maki couldn’t hold himself together any longer. James hand on him, the position, the sickly scent of the room and his tone. He needed to let go of something, anything.
“Your voice did something to me that day,” he said quietly. “It sounded so hot I thought people would see me wanting you.”
James looked stunned, mouth agape, tongue dry.
“Is that really why…?” he asked, his breath shallow.
“I had no plan to bully you. I was just intimidated scared to be… excluded.” Maki’s emotions were upside down, raw, right under his skin. A single tear ran down the side of his face.
James’s look could have killed him right there. He looked so concerned, wrongly so. Maki didn’t need compassion; he was a monster.
“Come here.”
James’s hand wrapped around his back, pulling him close. Maki tried to resist, but gravity won, his face falling against James’s shoulder. And arms closed around him like a cage, the warmest, prettiest cage he could ever dream of.
James was so close he almost missed the words.
“Maki, it’s been so long. It’s not worth crying over,” James said softly. “I won’t lie, when you touched me that day, I never realized I was that sensitive.”
Maki let out a short, embarrased choked laugh, shaking tears from his eyes.
“You still think about it?” he asked, voice barely audible. Was he really saying what he was thinking.
“Sometimes,” James said. “Not everything about it. Just… the way it felt to be touched by someone who didn’t hate me yet.” He exhaled slowly, locking eyes with Maki. “That’s the part that stayed.”
Maybe it was the tears blurring his vision or how close they were, Maki couldn’t stop looking at him: his eyes, his lashes, the perfect curve of his lips. How perfect he was and how disgusting he was just existing next to him.
“I would go back and protect you.” Maki whispered. “I promise.”
James gaze flickering between Maki’s mouth and his eyes.
“Why not do it now?” he asked quietly, then leaned in and pressed his lips to his.
Maki could feel his tears wetting James’s lips, soft and plump against his own. It was unearned, but he couldn’t deny the rush it sent through him. Pressing closer, he wrapped a hand around the back of James’s neck, fingers tracing the warm, sensitive skin. James exhaled against him, and Maki leaned in, tilting his head. Their mouths met perfectly, lips and tongue testing each other. When James pressed his canine lightly against Maki’s tongue, a shiver ran through him, and he hissed at the sharp sensation. The mix of pain and heat made his chest tighten, a rush of something wild and uncontrollable that left him trembling. Every nerve in his body screamed at him to pull back, but he couldn’t, didn’t want to.
Maki opened his eyes to see James flushed, eyes hooded with desire, hunger clamping down on Maki’s. He teased it, and Maki hissed at the sharp press. James let go and he began picking up the trail of Maki’s tears, his tongue running along it. It made Maki shiver at how hot it was, how primal it felt to lick each other, explore parts unknown to most. Before reaching under his eye, James planted a kiss on his cheek, soft and wet, before returning to his lips once more, the salt of the tears permeating the kiss.
“You’re so hot…” Maki let out, eyes trailing over James, too scared to blink for fear of missing any part of him.
James smiled at him, a genuine one. The first one Maki had ever seen from him. It saden him to see it this close, blurred under desire. This was a moment he wished to admire and remember forever.
“Say it again,” James replied, leaving a kiss on his lips.
“You’re so hot—”
He didn’t get to finish. James was over him again, but more than that, Maki could feel his hand running under his shirt, soft digits leaving a trail of fire on his skin. He moaned hard against the other, the touch too much to bear at once. The hand traveled up his abs and stopped at his rib cage.
“You too, Maki,” James let out, kissing him once again.
Maki almost spasmed at how much energy coursed through his system, a heat that made every nerve sing and every muscle ache to move closer. He wanted to touch too. Keeping one hand on James’s nape, he pushed the other under the hoodie, rapidly laying it on the boy’s chest. A sharp gasp made him press his lips to smother the sound. He would kill to hear it again that noise, the thing that had started this spiral. Maki slid to hover over the pec, finally touching it, the boy bucked forward, back arching violently, and a powerful, unfiltered moan escaped. It was everything he wanted.
James’s hand dug into his side, the pain sharpening every sensation. He pushed the hoodie up, and a waft of sweat-scented air filled the room. He hadn’t showered, the smell heavy and tangy from a long day without a shower, and Maki thought he might go crazy just inhaling it. Nostrils flaring, he bit James's lower lip, hand roaming, groping, brushing over curves and ridges, he drew another breathy moan from the boy that made his own pulse pound harder.
“Can I taste you?” Maki groaned against his lips, more a plea than a question.
James nodded against him, pressing his lips along Maki’s to give an answer, unable to speak.
Maki didn’t need more. He slid down, reaching James’s belly, and pressed his nose against the surface of his skin. It was everything he imagined, the layered sweat, the stickiness of a long, exhausting workout resting on him. Maki pressed his face in, rubbing his nose against it, wanting to be permeated by James’s scent. James’s hand slid into his hair, pressing him closer, and Maki let out a sigh. He parted his mouth, drool spilling onto the boy’s stomach, and began to lick. It was salty and tangy; he circled James’s belly button, feeling him shudder under his touch. He took his time, wetting every inch, coating his mouth with James’s sweat.
James’s fingers gripped his hair, pulling at the hairline, moaning again, and Maki felt himself grin. His eyes flickered up to meet James’s, head on the verge of falling back, eyes clouded and wet. Maki licked upward, flicking his tongue along James’s skin and the boy shuddered again under him. He crawled up, kissing James’s body at each step, the scent growing stronger, James’s moans growing louder. Reaching the hem of the hoodie, Maki pulled it up over James’s pec and buried himself in his armpit. The scent was so strong it made his head spin. His nose brushed the sweat-soaked hair, maybe paradise, he thought. He heard James sigh, his grip on his hair loosening, as Maki inhaled deeper, pressing his face further in.
He was about to lick when a knock came at the door. He froze, pulling back, eyes meeting James’s.
“Is someone there?” a voice he didn’t recognize called, youthful and hesitant.
Before Maki could react, James pressed a hand to his mouth and replied.
“Yes, it’s occupied. Please leave.” His voice pitched higher than expected at first, then steadied into the authoritative, dry tone Maki knew.
The figure behind the door stammered something and left, footfalls fading down the hall. James’s hand lingered over Maki’s mouth for a few seconds before finally pulling away.
“It was so hot… you always talk like it’s no big deal,” Maki whispered, painfully aware of where they were.
James rolled his eyes, reached up, and planted a kiss on him, saliva and sweat mixing in the press of lips.
“It’s the only way I know how. Just next time, don’t make out with me during work,” he teased, pulling himself up.
“So, you’re saying there will be a next time?” Maki asked quietly.
“Maybe.” A quick tug at his lips hinted at more, and Maki kissed him back without hesitation.
He didn’t deserve a straight answer; he deserved to be frustrated, to ache for more. Nothing, no act of revenge, no gesture of remorse, could undo years of shame. But maybe a kiss could begin to change that.