To the common human, Yamapi might appear careless and forgetful, drifting through his day thoughtlessly and making it to the end without trouble because of those around him.
Yamapi knows different.
Everything he does is carefully thought out, like the almost secretive grins he throws Shige that reminds the other of the fun they'd had drinking the week before. Like the offhand compliments he throws Tegoshi that make the smaller man beam with pride, the ignorance of Ryo's moods and the naps on the sofa he takes, so that Ryo can use him as a pillow between train journeys. Like the extra lunch he brings and decides he's too full for, or dieting, or doesn't like so that Massu never goes hungry.
And most importantly, the little things he doesn't do that make Koyama feel useful, needed, and as important to the band as every one of them.
He knows Koyama needs to take care of people, doesn't feel satisfied unless there is someone he can help, someone who depends on him. But he also knows that sometimes, just sometimes, it all becomes too much. When the sparkle in Koyama's eyes isn't as bright, when his smile seems to slip around the edges, that's when Yamapi knows, and those nights he turns up on Koyama's doorstep with beer and takeout, and a shoulder for Koyama to fall asleep on to Yamapi stroking his hair.
"You can't heal the world, you know." He always whispers softly, and he's never sure if the other man hears him, but the next day the smile and the sparkle are back full force, so Yamapi decides it doesn't really matter anyway.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2009-09-01 07:34 am (UTC)Yamapi knows different.
Everything he does is carefully thought out, like the almost secretive grins he throws Shige that reminds the other of the fun they'd had drinking the week before. Like the offhand compliments he throws Tegoshi that make the smaller man beam with pride, the ignorance of Ryo's moods and the naps on the sofa he takes, so that Ryo can use him as a pillow between train journeys. Like the extra lunch he brings and decides he's too full for, or dieting, or doesn't like so that Massu never goes hungry.
And most importantly, the little things he doesn't do that make Koyama feel useful, needed, and as important to the band as every one of them.
He knows Koyama needs to take care of people, doesn't feel satisfied unless there is someone he can help, someone who depends on him. But he also knows that sometimes, just sometimes, it all becomes too much. When the sparkle in Koyama's eyes isn't as bright, when his smile seems to slip around the edges, that's when Yamapi knows, and those nights he turns up on Koyama's doorstep with beer and takeout, and a shoulder for Koyama to fall asleep on to Yamapi stroking his hair.
"You can't heal the world, you know." He always whispers softly, and he's never sure if the other man hears him, but the next day the smile and the sparkle are back full force, so Yamapi decides it doesn't really matter anyway.