A piece of cheesecake for gomushroom (1/5)

[futurepm_mod]

Title: Chase This Fire Away
Pairing: Sho/Jun
Rating: NC-17
Summary: “Think about it,” Nino told him. “Hawaii. All expenses paid. All you have to do is to show up at the party and at the wedding with your fake boyfriend. What could possibly go wrong?”
Warnings: None
Notes: For gomushroom. I know you didn’t ask for fake dating but I couldn’t resist. I hope you’ll like this attempt at a romcom. Lots of thanks to my betas. Title is from Lakehouse by Of Monsters and Men.

“I’m not doing this.”

Beside him, Nino sighs, and it’s a sound that seems partly annoyed, but mostly of the ‘I-knew-this-would-be-difficult’ kind. The one that is still fond of Sho in his own Nino way.

“You’re literally a click away, Sho-chan,” Nino points out. He’s hovering on Sho’s shoulder, face too close but not uncomfortable because it’s Nino and personal space is a foreign concept to him. “Just enter the portal.”

Sho faces Nino, his finger freezing on the laptop’s trackpad. “I thought you said you knew a guy.”

“I do know a guy,” Nino insists, which isn’t surprising. Nino always knows a guy. Nino had a guy for pretty much everything. “But I need you to key in your info before we notify my guy.”

“Can’t you just come with me instead?” Sho asks, still hesitating on clicking the Enter that his pointer is hovering on for nearly five minutes now.

“And pretend I like the sun, the outside world? No one would buy it. Aiba-shi’s there, and he definitely wouldn’t believe it.” Nino shakes his head. “Much as I’d love to be in this wedding, duty calls. I did withdraw a couple of bills, though, for the soon-to-be-wedded.” He clicks his tongue. “Imagine that.”

“Terrifying,” Sho says without emotion. “I still don’t think I should bring someone along.”

This time, Nino finally groans, forehead now resting on Sho’s shoulder. “Sho-chan, just click the damn Enter button and we’ll see if this is something you can stomach. The guy I know can’t enter into an arrangement unless it goes via their database, so I just really need you to key in your personal information and I’ll take it from there.”

“You mean you just need my credit card number,” Sho corrects.

Nino hooks his chin on Sho’s shoulder, smiling. “Well, I sure as hell am not paying for an escort service in your stead, despite it being my idea.”

Sho turns away and after a couple more seconds of hesitation, hits the “Enter” button and waits. The homepage begins loading, a rather cheery tune playing as background music. The logo appears, a tacky variety of a Macromedia Flash output.

Cosmos, it reads in formal looking script. An upscale escort service with over fifty elite courtesans of a particular standard.

“There might be a jumpscare so watch out,” Nino jokes, but Sho’s too busy reading already. There’s a website introduction detailing what an escort service is and what the regular rates are. There are paragraphs that assure Sho he’d be able to find what he was looking for, and that his feedback would be taken seriously once the whole affair is over.

The rates listed are not out of Sho’s budget, but he has feeling Nino’s guy doesn’t charge the regular rates.

“I’m not doing this,” Sho says for the second time.

“Just click the models tab,” Nino says, pointing to said tab. Sho is grateful he’s not using a touchscreen laptop. “Let’s find the guy I know.”

Sho does, and as he waits for the HQ photos to begin loading, he looks back on what brought him in this predicament. Ohno Satoshi, one of his high school friends, was going to get married and he’d picked Hawaii for the venue. His bachelor party is happening a week prior to the wedding, organized by his bestman Aiba Masaki.

While Sho knows Aiba and Ohno care for him, he’s aware he’d be the butt of the jokes if he doesn’t bring someone along. With Ohno on his way to settling down, Aiba in a stable relationship of seven years, and Nino having a monogamous relationship with his bank account, Sho knows he’s the only one left behind. He’s thirty-five, and a single man at thirty-five is going to raise a couple of questions. Especially at a wedding.

Questions Sho would rather not answer truthfully, because he’s going to Hawaii for Ohno. He wants all the focus to be on Ohno, to attract less attention to himself as much as possible. If Sho goes alone, he’d be set up with another single guest, probably one of Haru-chan’s friends. Sho doesn’t want to be rude, but not all of Ohno’s guests knows about his preferences.

Nino’s solution is simple: have Sho bring along a boyfriend, to blend in with everybody else. It’s just typical of Nino to suggest that kind of thing.

Except that Nino was totally serious this time.

The problem: Sho currently doesn’t have a boyfriend. The last one had been nearly a year ago, and they parted ways because it had been the right thing to do at the time.

Which brought on Nino’s second solution: find him a boyfriend.

“Think about it, Sho-yan,” Nino told him after he presented the idea, heedless of Sho gaping at him. “Hawaii. All expenses paid. All you have to do is to show up at the party and at the wedding with your fake boyfriend. What could possibly go wrong?”

A hundred warning signs had popped up in Sho’s mind at that question, but he focused on the most crucial point (in his opinion) of Nino’s suggestion.

“How about the fact that we’re getting someone from an escort service?” Sho asked.

Nino only smiled, like he seemed ready to handle Sho’s hysterics and initial shock at the entire idea.

“So? It’s legal. Escort service is a legitimate business.” Nino shrugged. “And besides, if he’s in that line of work, that makes it all the better. It means he can act the part, which is exactly what you need in order to convince all the people out there. Especially Aiba-shi. Oh-chan’s no problem; he’d be too busy giving Haru-chan adoring looks, but Aiba-shi’s a tougher nut to crack.”

“I know that,” Sho said, “but why can’t you just—?”

“Me? Pose as your boyfriend?” Nino laughed, muffling his giggles at the crook of his elbow. “You’re cute, Sho-chan, but aside from the fact that I have to shoot something overseas, do you seriously think anyone would believe we’re together?”

Sho didn’t reply, and Nino just gave him a knowing look.

“Exactly,” Nino said, leaning back on his chair and looking triumphant. For someone who’s acting as their job, Sho can’t comprehend why Nino wouldn’t agree. Sho would consider forking his own money for it; Nino always seemed more accepting when a few ten thousand yens were presented. Besides, if they just needed a good actor, Nino can definitely play the part.

“Also, Sho-yan,” Nino said, examining his cuticles, “no offense but...you can’t afford me.”

“Asshole,” Sho retorted, resulting to another chuckle from Nino.

It took Sho a week to wrap his head around Nino’s proposal, three more days to reason with himself and to weigh the pros and cons. The day after that, Nino simply showed up in his apartment, demanding that he opened his laptop.

Which brings them to the present.

Nino is squinting beside Sho, telling him to scroll every now and then. Just to annoy Nino, Sho scrolls too fast at one point, leading to Nino nearly bursting a hole through his eardrum with his shrill order of “Go back up! Back up!”

Sho does, then Nino starts to cackle. The one with his mouth wide open and head thrown back, like he’s so delighted and everything is going according to his plan.

In hindsight, that seems to be case.

“Of course he’s a VIP,” Nino says mostly to himself, head shaking in genuine amusement. “Of course.”

Sho scans the faces onscreen, finding eight VIPs listed. All of them are seriously attractive men that for a moment, Sho wonders why they are working for an escort service and not as idols or romance drama leads.

He gives Nino a look. “Which one is the guy you know?” He’s starting to have a bad feeling about Nino’s plan.

“You can’t click him unless you register.” Nino waves his hand in front of the laptop screen. “That’s what VIP means. So you go make your account, I’ll make coffee, then we book the guy I know.”

“You’re not even telling me who he is?” Sho asks, watching Nino head to the direction of his kitchen.

“Do you trust me?” Nino asks back, head tilted to one side.

Sho considers it for a long while. “Right now,” he answers truthfully, “no.”

Nino laughs like he expected Sho’s answer. “Trust me, Sho-yan.” He winks. “The guy I know? Definitely can play the part. Hella attractive too. Now let me make that coffee.”

Sho groans as Nino turns away, and after a full minute of contemplating, he decides to quit chickening out and clicks Register.

There’s no registration fee, anyway.

--

After two steaming cups of coffee and a lot of pushes from Nino, Sho’s profile is complete including his credit card details. He takes some time to painstakingly read every rule of the agency, in case he’s really pushing through with what Nino is suggesting.

Cosmos requires that every member who avail of their services adhere to a couple of house rules, outlined neatly according to importance. At the bottom of the list, there’s a note that says every model in the database might have their own specific set of rules, and whoever books them should agree to them without question.

Sho takes all of this in, demanding a third cup from Nino, who makes it without complaint. When Nino returns and prods him to proceed, Sho begins to fill in a request form, detailing what he wants from the service itself. He keys in a two-week trip to Hawaii for a wedding and hits “Submit”.

When he’s done, Nino smiles, looks over the information once more, then whips out his phone and calls someone.

Sho tries not to eavesdrop, but it’s difficult when he knows Nino is already negotiating on his behalf.

“We’re done here; he’s registered, added details, blah blah. Are you on your database?” Nino asks whoever he’s talking to, then he laughs. “You’re such a sassy bastard. Fine. My friend’s name is Sakurai Sho. Can you find him?” Nino pauses, then his nose scrunches. “Oh? He has to book you?” He pauses, his eyes narrowing in thought. “Hang on.”

Then Nino hands him the phone with an expectant look, while Sho goggles at Nino’s outstretched hand.

“He’s waiting,” Nino mouths, and there’s a smirk that’s threatening to tug at the corner of his lips, Sho knows.

Sho takes the phone from Nino like it’s going to bite him, putting it gingerly against his ear. “Hello. This is Sakurai.”

“Sakurai-san,” the person on the other line says—a man, definitely a man. There’s an airy confidence to the way he pronounces Sho’s surname, and there’s a certain charm to his voice that Sho can’t process at the moment. “Nino has informed me of your present predicament.”

Nino, he said with a touch of familiarity. All of Sho’s doubts about Nino knowing a guy disappears: Nino definitely knows this one—this formal, polite, but straight to the point guy.

The kind that successfully gets Sho’s attention.

“Ah yes,” Sho says, a little embarrassed, glaring at Nino who’s watching him, amusement dancing on his impish face. “I understand that traveling overseas is not really part of your services?”

“It’s not.” Whoever Nino’s guy is, he doesn’t mirror Sho’s nervousness. This must be just an ordinary call for him, now that Sho gives it a thought.

Sho faces Nino, tucking the phone away from his mouth. “It’s not part of their services.”

“Keep talking to him,” Nino tells him.

Sho puts the phone back against his ear. He opens his mouth, then he realizes he doesn’t know the guy’s name.

“Uh,” he begins, and he hears a questioning hum on the other line, “I don’t know your name.” He glares at Nino as he says this, and Nino just snickers behind his coffee mug.

There’s a sigh from the other side. “Of course Nino didn’t tell you.” Sho hears a shuffle of movement, followed by “Are you on the website, Sakurai-san?”

“Yes,” Sho says, focusing back on his laptop. “Nino said earlier you were a VIP, and I think I’m not eligible to book any of those?” He looks at the red text marking eight VIPs. Red means it’s someone he can’t book yet, but his attention is not really on that right now.

Which one of these men is the one he’s talking to? Sho looks at their faces, tries to find a match for the voice. Is he this guy named Ikuta with a rather toothy grin? Or this Nishikido fellow with tanned skin but a bright smile?

“No,” Sho hears and he bristles; it’s like whoever he’s talking to heard what was in his head. “No, Sakurai-san, you have to be a member for a couple of months for that to work. It doesn’t matter. I’m handling it.”

As soon as Sho says that, he receives a notification in the email address he specified. He switches tabs and checks it, finds an email that informs him that after his request form was processed, the database has suggested one escort that he can book should he wish it.

There’s a link at the end of the email, and Sho knows it leads to the profile of whoever he’s speaking to.

“There should be an email by now,” the man on the other line says, which makes Sho focus on his voice.

“I’ve just received it,” Sho confirms, finger hesitating on clicking the link. Nino is hovering over his shoulder again, not ashamed to eavesdrop and snoop at the same time.

“Well?” he hears next, “Do you know my name now?”

“Just click it,” Nino hisses beside him, but not loud enough for the phone to pick up.

Sho taps on the trackpad a little forcefully for show. It takes a while to load, but when it does, the first thing that spills out of Sho’s mouth is a completely honest, unadulterated “oh shit.”

“Is something the matter?” the person on the other line asks, and Sho wants to kick himself. Beside him, Nino’s laughing, covering half of his face with his tiny hands.

“No, everything’s fine,” Sho says, unable to take his eyes away from the profile currently open on his laptop screen.

More than fine, Sho thinks. The photo is from the chest above, and Sho takes in the pale complexion, full lips, long eyelashes, large eyes, and sharp cheekbones that are made more obvious given the lighting.

This can’t be the guy Nino knows. This can’t be the one he’s talking to. This is the type of person that girls from Japan wouldn’t hesitate screaming their heads off for, the kind of face that’d be fitting to be on an uchiwa or on a billboard or on the covers of magazines.

He reads the name and runs it over and over in his head. Matsumoto Jun. His profile lists him as thirty-three and also from Tokyo. Sho quickly scans his favorites and reads kani cream croquettes, soba, and sushi.

“Sakurai-san?” the man—no, Matsumoto; he has a name now—asks from the other line. “Is everything all right?”

Sho pointedly ignores Nino’s quiet chuckles beside him, trying to get used to Matsumoto’s voice. “Yes. Matsumoto-san. I...you said your agency doesn’t cater to overseas trips.”

“I did say that,” Matsumoto confirms, and it’s there again, that confidence. Only that Sho has a face to put to it, and it’s a rather strong face. Everything in Matsumoto’s face is large—eyes, nose, mouth, the width and thickness of his eyebrows, even his ears.

It makes for a very attractive combination. Hella, to use Nino’s words earlier. Nino’s prone to exaggeration, but the only thing that is currently exaggerated in Sho’s opinion are Matsumoto’s features.

Features he can’t look away from.

“But I owe Nino a favor, Sakurai-san. Totally outside the agency’s parameters, but I can pull some strings, no problem. That is, if you’re still willing?” Matsumoto asks, his voice laced with just the right amount of hesitation for him to come off as sincere.

“You’ve read the request?” Sho asks, hoping his voice comes off as calm and composed.

“I have. A two-week Hawaiian trip to attend a wedding. I haven’t been to Hawaii in a while,” Matsumoto says.

“What else did Nino tell you, Matsumoto-san?”

“That you’re looking for someone to accompany you. That you’re his good friend, has known you since you were teenagers, and he can vouch that you won’t try anything funny or anything outside the rules of the agency. That you are, and I quote, ‘a rich-ass bachelor who can afford my services, but not in the sugar daddy levels’.”

Sho coughs at that, then he gives Nino his most threatening glare. Nino only blinks innocently at him, even mouths a “What?” like he did nothing wrong.

“He’s right,” Sho says after he recovers. “Nino’s right.”

“That you’re not a sugar daddy?” Matsumoto asks, and Sho nearly drops the phone. He must’ve let out a surprised squeak or something, because the next thing he hears is Matsumoto’s laugh, rich and amused. Sho wonders how it’d look like if Matsumoto was smiling in his photo.

Then he realizes with a jolt that that might be a dangerous path for him to follow, considering how outrageously arresting Matsumoto Jun’s photo already is.

“I’m just teasing, Sakurai-san.” There’s playfulness in his tone now. It’s probably second nature to him.

Sho sighs. “You and Nino seem to have that in common.”

“And yet we’re both friends with him, as it appears. I can accompany you to Hawaii, Sakurai-san. I know you know that now. I believe there’s another aspect to your request, one you didn’t disclose when you availed our services.”

Sho blinks. “Nino didn’t tell you?”

“He did. I just would like to hear it from you personally. With Nino, I can never tell if he’s telling the truth or not. I’m sure you understand.”

Sho really does. He takes a deep breath, organizes his thoughts first, and finally says, “I need you to act as my boyfriend in those two weeks.”

He says all of that in one breath. Nino’s laughing in his periphery, his entire face hidden behind his hands, but Sho ignores him, turning his back. “The celebration is with my friends from high school. Nino’s friends too, but he’s got to shoot for some Hollywood film so he can’t make it. Thing is, there’s a bachelor party. And I’m only two years younger than the groom, so as soon as they’re done picking on him, they’d turn to me next, and I—”

“Sakurai-san,” Matsumoto says, cutting off his rambling. “I understand. It’s not a very unusual request.”

“It’s not?” Sho wonders how many times Matsumoto have had to pose as someone’s boyfriend.

“It’s not something that I get a couple of times in a month, no, but nothing out of the ordinary. I had to be someone’s estranged brother once. And before that, a teacher.”

“People come to escort services for that?”

“It’s called service for a reason,” Matsumoto answers, and he sounds like he’s smiling. “You’d find me agreeable to what you’re asking for, Sakurai-san.”

“Will you charge higher for that?” Sho asks.

“For an overseas trip? Yes. But nothing you can’t afford, I believe.”

Sho finds himself nodding. Then he realizes Matsumoto can’t see it. “If I click this button, I’m booking you?”

“That’s how it works, yes. It would direct you to a billing statement, calculated according to my hourly charges and for the duration of your reservation. You should get a copy of it as well, sent straight to your email. Our agency only requires you to pay half for now, the rest when the arrangement is concluded.”

That sounds fair, and Sho appreciates Matsumoto reminding him of it. He has already forgotten all the terms and conditions he agreed to during the signup process. “And if I click this button, there’s no dropping out of it?”

“Do you want to attend this wedding, Sakurai-san?”

“I do.” With Nino not making it, Sho knows it’ll make Ohno sad if he won’t be there, too. Aiba will never stop making puppy eyes at him, and Nino will appeal to his conscience, perhaps even say that Sho put his hard work for nothing. “I really do.”

“Then you have yourself a boyfriend,” Matsumoto says, like it’s such a normal thing to say. “If you click that button.”

Sho stares at Matsumoto’s photo that’s staring back, at his half-lidded brown eyes which are either products of Photoshop or the real deal. A part of him itches to find out, if Matsumoto is indeed as attractive as his photo suggests or if it was just taken by a talented photographer.

He clicks the button before he could convince himself otherwise.

Sho gives it a few seconds, looking at the billing statement that he got redirected to. It’s nothing he can’t afford, but Matsumoto does charge higher than regular escorts. Sho shuts his eyes and clicks Book after going over the fees once more.

This better be worth Sho’s money and Sho’s sanity.

The words “Transaction completed” flash at the middle of the screen, and Sho doesn’t have to look to know that Nino’s grinning wide beside him.

“I’ll be in your care then, Sakurai-san,” Matsumoto suddenly says on the other line.

“Likewise,” Sho answers, wondering what it is in hell that Nino has managed to talk him into doing this time.

--

Sho swats at Nino’s arm repeatedly for that sugar daddy comment. And afterwards, he plops on the couch and buries his face in his hands.

“What, are you getting cold feet now? It’s done,” Nino says, taking a seat beside him. “Even your bank knows it’s done.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that he’s the guy you know?” Sho asks, lifting his head from his hands. “Have you, have you—”

“Seen him? Met him? Talked to him? I know Jun-kun. He’s a professional. I once had to hire him because my manager came down with a flu but I needed to audition for a certain role.”

Sho stares at Nino, eyes going wide. “You had him pose as your manager?” With a face like Matsumoto’s, Sho’s surprised people bought it.

“Technically yes, but what I really made him do was charm the casting director into picking me. Got the role, in the end. Even won an award for it,” Nino winks. “Jun-kun’s good. Just be honest with him, tell him what you expect, and he’ll deliver. That’s how he is.”

“Nino, do you understand what I made him agree to? He agreed to be my fake boyfriend so Aiba-chan would pester someone else.”

“Yes, I understand. Jun-kun’s attractive. Not as attractive as me, but he’ll do.”

Sho chooses not to comment on Nino’s self-absorbed reasoning. Instead, he focuses on the more important things. “I have to name my expectations, you said.”

Nino nods. “If Jun-kun knows what you want, he’d be able to make it happen. He’s a bit like me in that aspect.”

“We have to pretend,” Sho says, staring at Nino because how is it that Nino is so calm about this? “Satoshi-kun is going to pay for the ticket of someone who’s not really my boyfriend, and I already feel guilty about that.”

“That sounds like a you problem,” Nino says unhelpfully.

“See!” Sho swats at Nino’s shoulder with the back of his hand. “This is exactly what you made me do! You told me you had a solution!”

“I did. I do,” Nino answers smoothly. “Just calm down and play along. Jun-kun would know what to do. And you just have to play along.”

“I’m not sure I can act that well,” Sho says, unable to put his mind to it. The mere thought seems so absurd but it’s actually happening to him. He’s paying someone to act. To divert people’s attention elsewhere, to have them focus on Ohno. It’s for the greater good, but Sho still feels awful about asking Ohno to pay for a complete stranger.

An escort who happens to be Nino’s friend, but Nino’s not attending.

Wait. Sho blinks. Nino is not attending.

He faces Nino, meeting his eyes.

Nino smirks. “Finally caught on?”

“Do you have a ticket to Hawaii, Ninomiya?” Sho demands, hating that Nino put him through so much instead of just saying it outright.

“I RSVPed, you know.” Nino pulls out his phone, fingers tapping away. “Then my manager called and told me I got the role. I didn’t know I was getting the part. I thought it was my senpai who’d get it. So Oh-chan already booked a ticket for me.”

Nino shows him his phone containing details about a ticket that has a seat that happens to be beside Sho’s. Ohno booked in numbers, but he must’ve taken note of Nino’s need to appear incognito (being an actor and all) because only he and Sho are boarding this particular flight.

“So no worries about a ticket,” Nino says, locking his phone and smiling at him. “Jun-kun can use mine. I already informed Oh-chan about it, that I’d transfer the ticket to whoever you’re bringing along. He said he’d handle the technicalities.”

Of course Nino already told Ohno that Sho has someone with him. Of course.

Sho groans. One problem solved, but here comes another. “They’d be expecting now.”

“Naturally. Don’t worry, I didn’t describe him. I want them to have the similar expression your face had when you saw his profile photo. What did I tell you? Hella attractive, right?”

“You are the worst,” Sho complains, shaking his head. He’s not the least bit surprised that Nino knew his type (“the really good-looking ones, so are you sure you don’t have the hots for me?” was how Nino put it once), but Matsumoto is confident and appealing on top of having such a striking face. He’s way different compared to all the guys Sho once went for.

“I won’t survive those two weeks,” Sho says, entirely convinced of it.

Nino pats him on the back. “Come on, Sho-chan. Focus on the wedding. You’re there for the wedding. With a really handsome escort in tow, but who’s to know aside from you, me, and Jun-kun? It’ll be our little secret.”

Sho meets Nino’s eyes and frowns. “You’d totally tell Aiba-chan.”

“And spoil the fun? No, I want him to figure things out on his own,” Nino says, waving his hands. “If you guys manage to be so convincing that he’d be totally fooled, it’s something I can gloat about. It’s like it’s me who has tricked Aiba-shi. Indirectly.”

Sho will never understand Nino’s unwavering desires to one-up Aiba in everything.

“I’m going to have to ask him to do PDA, right?” Sho asks, a bit horrified at the thought. Surely there is something wrong about that.

Nino pats his thigh this time, smiling at him. “Jun-kun’s a pro. Trust me, he’d know what to do. Just play along.”

--

“Play along” is officially one of the dumbest pieces of advice Sho ever received in his life, and that’s factoring in that time in junior high that Aiba had suggested they should try tasting flavored condoms to know if the flavors were truly honest to their labels.

But Sho supposes he is dumber, because he finds himself having no other choice but to follow said advice.

Not the flavored condom suggestion, but Nino’s.

Sho is currently standing by the baggage check-in at Narita, glancing at his phone every now and then. Sho would’ve preferred that he meet Matsumoto beforehand, but the guy had a couple of commitments scheduled. Apparently he was in-demand, but Matsumoto’s excuse was that he had to free up his schedule by cramming some of his appointments. He kept apologizing to Sho though, and he sounded sincere enough that Sho is not holding it against him.

But Matsumoto is cutting it close. He only has a minute left before Sho sends Nino a message, to grumble to his friend about an escort’s tardiness.

“Sakurai-san?” Sho hears behind him, and he turns, finding himself looking at Matsumoto Jun in the flesh.

He didn’t expect Matsumoto to be of similar height to him. He’s definitely broader than Sho; his chest and shoulders are a little prominent under the plaid shirt he’s wearing. Matsumoto has one hand on a trolley luggage behind him, a hand-carry bag slung on one shoulder, and a pair of sunglasses in his free hand.

His skin is not as perfect as his photo made it out to be; there are marks left by acne that littered his cheeks, the curve of his jaw. And yet, he still makes for a stunning sight: with his high cheekbones, bright eyes, and—

“Sakurai-san?” Matsumoto says, and Sho’s eyes snap back to his face. Matsumoto is smiling a little, and Sho realizes that he’s been caught staring.

He reddens; he can’t help it. He tries to make up for his embarrassing display by extending his hand in greeting. “Sakurai Sho. I’ll be in your care for the next few days.”

“I should be the one saying that. It’s my pleasure to finally meet you,” Matsumoto says, shaking Sho’s hand with a firm grip. It’s then that Sho notices how truly pale Matsumoto is. “I’m sorry if I was late. I couldn’t find you at first.”

Sho blinks at that, brows furrowing. Then he remembers that all he gave Matsumoto was his name, what clothes he’s wearing, and where would he be waiting. There are a lot of people wearing bucket hats in the airport, now that Sho looks around.

“Oh,” he says, feeling apologetic now. “How were you able to find—?”

“Lucky guess,” Matsumoto says with a lopsided smile. “I looked for the one person who seems like he’s waiting for someone who’s late.”

Sho looks away at that. He really feels awful now. “I’m sorry. You should’ve asked for a picture, you know. So you’d know how I look like.”

“I prefer not knowing my clients’ faces before I meet them in person. That gets rid of any expectations on my part,” Matsumoto explains, gesturing behind Sho. “We should get going. We don’t want to be late for the boarding.”

“Yes, of course,” Sho says, leading the way to the baggage counter.

They spend a couple of minutes in silence after that, occasionally interrupted by giving monosyllabic answers to the counter attendant as they hand over their passports.

“How should I address you?” Matsumoto asks as they watch their luggages being weighed and tagged accordingly. “I can’t keep calling you Sakurai-san once we’re there.”

“Everyone calls me Sho-chan,” Sho tells him, trying not to focus too much on Matsumoto’s scent. He expected a spicy cologne that’d irritate his nose, but instead, there was a whiff of something that reminds Sho of the sea. “Nino calls me Sho-yan if he needs something. Satoshi-kun calls me Sho-kun.”

“Would Sho-san be all right?” Matsumoto asks, not looking at him as he bows in thanks, accepting his passport back from the attendant. “Or would that be too formal?”

Sho shakes his head. “That’s okay. How should I address you?”

“I’m comfortable with my clients calling me by my name,” Matsumoto says as they take the escalator to the second floor, to wait at their respective gate. “Nino calls me Jun-kun, though.”

“Jun…-san?” Sho tries, trying to get used to it. Something about saying it makes him feel weird, like it’s not his to say and he hasn’t earned the right to say it despite having paid for Matsumoto’s services.

Matsumoto smiles, this time showing his teeth. His perfect teeth, Sho notes, but his eyes gravitate to the small dot under Matsumoto’s bottom lip, something he never noticed before.

How many beauty marks does this guy have?

“Feels weird to call you that way,” Sho explains, when they’re finally seated near their gate.

“Some of my friends call me Matsujun,” Matsumoto offers. “Would you be more comfortable with that?”

It’s a portmanteau, one that Sho can easily roll around his tongue for reasons unknown. “Yes. Matsujun it is, then.”

Matsumoto smiles, and he surprises Sho by pulling out a paperback copy of The Divine Comedy from his hand-carry luggage. “Well then. We have a little over eight hours until we get to Hawaii. Ample time for us to corroborate our story, Sho-san. So I’ll be reading first, if you don’t mind.”

“No,” Sho says, waving his hand. “Please go ahead.”

Matsumoto’s lithe fingers gracefully flip pages until he gets to where his bookmark is. Sho stops watching him and begins watching everybody else, seeing families with children and some mothers trying to calm their agitated babies.

He’s grateful Ohno had the foresight of reserving two seats by the window and not two seats from the four-seat row situated at the middle of the plane. But then again, it might be Haru-chan who’s behind it; Ohno wouldn’t consider such circumstances if he had been the one booking seats for a Boeing 777.

Sho’s not particular about his flight accommodations, especially if they are free, but with someone stupidly attractive traveling with him, he finds himself focusing on the technical aspects of their flight. Will he be spending the next eight hours fidgeting beside Matsumoto? He knows he’s got the window seat, and while the view is bound to be spectacular, the take off part will give him the nerves.

He doesn’t want to make his companion uncomfortable; Matsumoto may not know much about him, but Sho doesn’t want the guy to think that he currently has no one in his life because he’s a weirdo. Sho’s had enough of assumptions.

His phone rings and he mumbles an apology as he pulls it out from his pocket. Matsumoto waves a hand and resumes reading, while Sho stares at Nino’s name as the caller ID.

“Hi Nino,” Sho says, deciding to pick up.

“I was hoping to catch you before your flight,” Nino says, and he sounds like he’s chewing something crunchy. “Guess I made it. How’s Jun-kun?”

“He’s fine,” Sho says before he can think on it, then he shuts his eyes and breathes out. “We’re fine. What do you want?”

Nino spends a few seconds laughing, then his voice reverts to serious. “Just calling to give you a warning.”

“Warning? What are you talking about?”

“Oh, you know. You’re going to the bachelor party, right? With Jun-kun in tow?”

Sho doesn’t understand where this conversation is headed, but he indulges Nino anyway. “That’s the plan, yeah. What about it?”

“Just giving you a heads up that one of Aiba-shi’s favorite questions once you’re seated on a table is the sex question.”

The what? “Say that again.” Sho thinks he may have misheard it.

“The sex question. You know, out of ten, how would you rate the sex life?” Nino’s snorting in laughter now, like he can see Sho’s face and can imagine how uncomfortable Sho is. “That’s his favorite. So when you set things up with Jun-kun and try to get your story straight, you might want to address that too.”

Sho turns his back to Matsumoto, covering his mouth as he hisses, “I’m not asking him that!”

“Then don’t. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. I know Aiba-san. He’ll definitely ask that. Not to you, maybe, but best to warn Jun-kun about it.”

“How do you expect me to say that to him?!” Sho asks, taking care not to raise his voice and alert Matsumoto. “I’m never asking that.”

“Fine. If you want, I can ask for you. Give Jun-kun the phone,” Nino offers.

“Absolutely not,” Sho says immediately.

“You know, I can always call him after this.”

“How about you don’t?”

Nino laughs again, then he sighs. “All right. I won’t call him. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. He’s going to be there, and you just have to be ready for it.”

“I don’t think I’ll be ready, ever.”

“Then do what I told you, Sho-chan,” Nino says, and he’s obviously smiling. “Leave it to Jun-kun and just play along. I’m cutting; bring home some Hawaiian souvenirs, okay?”

Without waiting for a response, Nino ends the call.

Sho stares at his phone, finds his own disbelieving face staring back.

Play along.

Easy for Nino to say.

--

Matsumoto is thoughtful enough to help Sho put his hand-carry luggage in the overhead compartment when he caught Sho struggling with it as people walked to their seats. Sho thanks him for it and settles back on his seat.

The plane itself is not cramped; Hawaii doesn’t have a high tourist revenue during this time of the year. Sho was kind of hoping Ohno would splurge and get him and Nino first-class tickets since Nino is an actor and all, but no such luck.

But then again, even if Ohno got them in economy class, there are a few empty seats around them. Sho’s grateful for that; there’d be fewer people who can overhear the conversation he and Matsumoto are bound to have for most of the flight. Sho has to cram a year of a relationship in eight hours, and his head is beginning to hurt just by imagining it.

“Sho-san,” Matsumoto says beside him, and Sho turns, sees Matsumoto watching him carefully. “Are you all right? You’re...gripping the armrests a little too tight, don’t you think?”

Sho looks down and discovers it’s true, but he attributes it to the pilot’s announcement that they’re about to take off.

“I’m okay,” he says, trying to wave off Matsumoto’s concern. “Just a little nervous.”

Matsumoto’s head tilts to the side, and Sho would have found it cute if only he isn’t so jittery. “Are you uncomfortable with flying?”

“Just before the plane takes off and lands,” Sho reassures him. “I don’t like the turbulence either. But it’ll all go away once we’re on air. I’ll be fine.”

Matsumoto suddenly offers an outstretched hand to him, and Sho stares at it for a while.

“I’ve been told it helps with the nerves,” Matsumoto explains, then he pries one of Sho’s hands from the armrest, holding it in his own. He laces their fingers together, and Sho finds that his touch is warm. “That it’s better when there’s someone with you as it happens.”

Sho’s first instinct is to withdraw, but he knows he should get used to Matsumoto’s touch; they have to pretend to be a couple, after all. Matsumoto’s grip is comforting in an innocent way—not too tight, thumb rubbing soothingly against Sho’s own repeatedly. Sho finds himself focusing on it and not on the plane taking off, his breaths coming out measured and even as his body gradually relaxes.

Sho turns to his companion and studies his face, the concern in his eyes.

He’s much kinder than what his appearance suggests. His features give a different impression about him—aggressive, fierce, uncompromising. But Matsumoto seems far from that, with the way he volunteered to help assuage Sho’s acrophobia.

Sho’s beginning to think he has booked someone quite unexpected.

“I’ve also been told singing helps,” Matsumoto says, and Sho blinks.

“What?”

“Singing,” Matsumoto repeats. His expression doesn’t give anything away. “Or anything to take your mind off it. I’m not much of a singer...but…”

“I don’t sing either,” Sho says, focusing on the conversation instead of the pilot’s announcements. “But I rap. Maybe Satoshi-kun will ask me to do that. He likes it when I rap.”

Matsumoto laughs, his features becoming more pronounced. “Sorry, sorry.” He waves his other hand. “I just didn’t take you for a rapper, Sho-san.”

Sho stares at Matsumoto, at the tiny smile playing on his lips. He seems truly tickled at the idea. “What else did Nino tell you about me?”

“That you’re a diligent person. You’re a department manager in a company that hired you immediately after you graduated. You’re a busy man, but you make time for your friends. As Nino put it, ‘a hard worker who parties harder’.”

Sho can feel his cheeks heating up, more so when Matsumoto’s smile grows wider.

“Was Nino right?” Matsumoto asks, looking at him expectantly.

Sho sighs. He can name a couple of incidents that led Nino to that conclusion, and they’re all drunken episodes. “I can hold my liquor more than Nino ever could, if you ever shared a drink or two with him.”

“Hardly,” Matsumoto says, shrugging. “Nino rarely drinks in my presence. He says I’m the type who doesn’t want to go home if I get sufficiently inebriated.”

Sho can’t help laughing at Matsumoto’s words, and he can feel the guy’s curious stare on him. “Sorry,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s just...you’re too formal with me. We have to look like we’re...you know, and you’re too formal.”

“I’m just trying to make our paces match here, Sho-san,” Matsumoto explains. “You’ve been formal with me since we met. Didn’t you notice?”

Sho nods; Matsumoto has a point. Sho’s been careful with the way he addresses the man, but they only have eight hours to be comfortable enough with each other. “I did notice. I’m sorry. I’m really trying since we have to pretend. It’s just that I don’t know much about you.”

“You mean you know nothing about me,” Matsumoto corrects, and Sho shoots him an apologetic look. “It’s all right. We have eight hours to do something about that. As for pretending, I think we can cover that by taking small steps.” He raises their entwined hands for emphasis. “We’re already off to a good start. We’re on air already, and you haven’t noticed.”

Sho faces the window and finds nothing but clear blue sky interspersed with thin wisps of clouds. He faces Matsumoto who gives a nod before extracting his hand away from Sho’s to unfasten his seatbelt.

“Sho-san,” Matsumoto begins, waiting for him to get comfortable in his seat before continuing, “I need to know what would you have me do in order to convince your friends. They’re your friends; you must know where they’re going to look. I need to know what you’re comfortable with.”

“Does that mean you’re comfortable with anything?” Sho asks. He doesn’t know much about Matsumoto’s job aside from the connotations that come with it. There are things Sho wants to know but has no idea how to ask.

Matsumoto considers the question, his thumb stroking his nose. “Not with anything, but I’m sure that’s the same for both of us. I can’t give you anything unless you give me something first.”

Sho decides to be direct. “I’m okay with holding hands. I think that’s usually what couples do.”

“You think?” Matsumoto’s eyes narrow. “Forgive me for being bold, but how long has it been since you had someone?”

“Nino wasn’t lying when he said I’m a hard worker,” Sho says as an answer. Then he shrugs. “Nearly a year ago. I don’t remember much. But it’s been a while.”

Matsumoto nods, like he seems to process Sho’s words. “Thank you for telling me. I’m sorry if that was so forward.”

“It’s necessary,” Sho says, waving off the apology. “Nino said I should leave it to you because you’re a pro at this.”

Matsumoto’s eyes widen, and Sho watches how the tip of his ears turn pink in embarrassment. “Not exactly a pro. Nino’s exaggerating.”

“But you know what to do, yes? I did ask for your services in that regard.”

“I know how to convince people, yes.” Matsumoto inches closer to him, eyes studying his face. “But I need to know if I’m overstepping boundaries, Sho-san. You’re still my client. I would never want to make you uncomfortable with my actions. That’s why I’m asking what you want me to do so I’d know if it’s all right with you.”

“Then how about this?” Sho meets Matsumoto’s stare, taking it as practice. “Tell me what you’ve got in mind, then I’ll tell you if it’s a go or a no. Does that seem fair to you?”

Matsumoto just nods, then Sho braces himself as the guy thinks, thumb stroking his bottom lip as he ponders on it.

“Hugs?” Matsumoto asks suddenly.

“Not in front of a lot of people and only when something made you really happy.”

“Not much of a hugger either,” Matsumoto says. “Kissing?” Matsumoto’s voice drops as he asked that, making Sho’s stomach feel a little funny.

“Depends,” Sho answers, willing his cheeks not to redden. “Depends on what kind and where.”

Matsumoto’s smiling now, and it reminds Sho of Nino getting a real kick out of seeing him flustered. “I like the short ones. Short, repeated ones to be exact. On the cheek?”

“Okay.”

“Hand?”

“Reminds me of a Getsu-9 drama but okay.”

Matsumoto looks at his mouth. “Lips?” he whispers, like they’d be overheard despite the other passengers chattering mindlessly around them.

Sho won’t deny that Matsumoto is attractive, that he’s got a plush mouth that Sho wants to know the feel of had things been different between them. If only this was an ordinary arrangement with an escort.

“No,” Sho says. “It’s like the hug, but I’d prefer for it not to be done.” He meets Matsumoto’s gaze evenly. “We’re not really together, Matsumoto-san. I know we have to be convincing, but I’d like to set a limit.”

“Okay.” Matsumoto pulls back, maintaining the distance between them. “I thought you were going to call me Matsujun, though?”

“We’re not in Hawaii yet,” Sho says, looking out the window.

“No,” Matsumoto agrees beside him. “Not yet.”

They spend the next few hours trying to come up with a decent story on how they got together. Sho offers his opinions here and there, based on what he’d think Aiba and Ohno would ask. There’s Haru-chan to consider, too, but she’s not like Aiba who’s blunt and asks the most embarrassing questions right off the bat.

Nino’s warning lingers in the back of Sho’s mind, but he ignores it in favor of polishing their story. If Aiba asks that (a part of Sho prays he wouldn’t), Matsumoto can show how much of a pro he is. Sho plans to leave the embarrassing parts to him; Matsumoto’s face seems confident enough to handle all of it anyway.

The following hours pass in silence. Matsumoto resumes reading his book while Sho flips through the movies he can watch, settling for a documentary about penguins instead.

Thirty minutes into the thing, Sho realizes he underestimated the penguins. The narrator of the documentary details on how penguins migrate, then Sho remembers Happy Feet and the little ones there, and he can feel his eyes stinging.

He tries to compose himself, not wanting to alert Matsumoto, but just when he fumbles for something to wipe his eyes with, he catches Matsumoto’s staring right at him.

“Are you crying?” Matsumoto asks, his book set aside for the moment.

Sho waves his hands. “I’m fine.”

Matsumoto gives him a look, turns to what he’s watching to study it for a few moments, then faces Sho once more. “They migrate.”

“What?”

“They migrate and leave their babies behind,” Matsumoto says, looking like he’s fighting to hold back a teasing grin. “Babies in eggs, but babies regardless. They migrate, and that made you sad.”

“It’s the delivery,” Sho insists, removing one earbud from his ear and handing it over. “You try listening to this guy deliver his lines, and it’s like he’s talking about permanent abandonment and stuff.” Sho looks away to wipe his eyes with his thumbs as discreetly as he can manage. “Stop laughing at me.”

“I’m not laughing at you,” Matsumoto says. “I’m not!” he denies again when Sho swats at his arm.

Matsumoto collects himself after a few moments, then he puts the earbud on and reaches out to thumb at the corner of Sho’s eye, wiping away a tear. He gets comfortable on his seat, watching the documentary without another word.

“You’re watching the penguins,” Sho says in awe.

“I’m watching the penguins that made you cry,” Matsumoto says, letting out a quiet chuckle.

“Why? Are you even interested?”

“I’m interested now because they made you cry.” Matsumoto gives him a tiny push, enough to make his body hit the backrest. “Now settle down and let me focus on the migration.”

Migrating penguins take up an hour and a half of their time, and by the end of it, Sho’s already beginning to feel drowsy. He turns his head and is not surprised to find his companion asleep already; Matsumoto’s not the one with the desires to know more about penguin habits.

Sho is surprised, however, when Matsumoto’s head lands unceremoniously on his shoulder, strands of his dyed hair covering his eyes. He looks less intimidating from this angle, his soft sighs and deep breaths making it too easy for Sho to imagine something else, another scenario in which he never hired Matsumoto’s services and this is really his partner who’s sleeping on his shoulder.

Sho needs to draw from that imagination to make this two-week trip work in his favor.

“The penguins thank you for your time,” Sho whispers with a smile, looking at Matsumoto’s long eyelashes for a moment.

He settles back and lets his eyes slide shut, sleep claiming him almost immediately.

--

Hawaii isn’t the Hawaii in postcards and advertisements that Sho remembers; it’s night by the time they arrived and he didn’t see the island surrounded by water, just city lights that seemed to float amidst the blanket of darkness.

Matsumoto wordlessly offered his hand to Sho as the pilot announced that they were about to make their landing, something Sho was grateful for. It’s not much of a contact, but Sho thinks he’s more or less used to the feel of Matsumoto’s skin on his; his first instinct is to no longer shy away from the man’s touch.

The airport is not as crowded as Sho expected it to be, making their checkout go smoothly and quickly. Ohno promised that he’d send someone to wait for them at the arrival area, so Sho keeps an eye out while Matsumoto fixes his personal belongings.

“Sho-san,” Matsumoto says, and Sho turns. Matsumoto is already reaching out, his thick brows furrowed behind his sunglasses. Sho doesn’t see the point of wearing sunglasses when there’s no sun, but he keeps his mouth shut. “Your hat’s askew.”

“Oh,” is all Sho says, standing awkwardly as the guy fixes it for him. Sho looks past Matsumoto’s broad shoulders, and he finally sees it.

“Sho-chan!” comes a loud yell that almost startled Sho. He manages a wave in Aiba’s direction, enthusiastic enough to make Aiba wave back. Aiba’s wearing a cap, a shirt, and khaki pants, like he’s always ready to go to the beach. He’s vibrating with energy, nearly jumping at the sight of them.

“Let me guess,” Matsumoto says, removing his sunglasses. “He’s not Ohno-san.”

“No, he’s not.”

Matsumoto turns, and Sho doesn’t miss the way Aiba’s eyes narrow. Then Aiba beams, just as Matsumoto nods in acknowledgement.

“Fair warning,” Sho says as they walk to where Aiba is, still waving at them like they haven’t seen him, “Aiba-chan’s always in high spirits. He...might ask some questions.”

“Ah,” Matsumoto says, smiling, “the first challenge, then.”

They finally reach Aiba, and Aiba nearly topples Sho over by the force of his hug. Sho returns it, then Aiba holds him close to whisper in his ear, “Sho-chan, when Nino said you’ve got someone, he didn’t say you’ve bagged someone!”

Sho reddens at the statement, but he manages to say, “Don’t scare him off now,” before pushing Aiba back, to give himself room to breathe.

“Aiba-chan,” he says as an introduction, “this is Matsumoto Jun. Matsujun, this is Aiba Masaki.”

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Matsumoto says, accepting Aiba’s outstretched hand, his other hand reaching up to push his sunglasses above his head. His eyes widen when Aiba pulls him to a hug, and Sho just shrugs his shoulders while smiling.

“Sho-chan’s boyfriend is automatically my friend,” Aiba declares, grinning wide. “Can I call you Matsujun?”

“Of course,” Matsumoto says.

“Car’s parked outside. Oh-chan designated me to be your driver till you get your car, so I’m going to take you to the hotel,” Aiba explains, leading them out.

As Matsumoto loads their luggages in the compartment, Aiba throws an arm around Sho’s shoulders. “Sho-chan,” Aiba says, loud enough that even Matsumoto can surely hear it, “mind if we have your boyfriend sit in front? Got some things to ask, as always.”

“You never change,” Sho says, shaking his head. He exchanges a look with Matsumoto, and at the man’s nod, Sho fakes a sigh. “Don’t tell him all the embarrassing stuff about me,” he says to Aiba jokingly.

Aiba puts a hand over his heart. “I’d never dare.”

The drive to the hotel is full of Aiba’s chatter, firing off the questions Sho has expected and has prepared for in the plane earlier.

“How long have you guys been together?” is Aiba’s first question.

Matsumoto smoothly answers it with what he and Sho rehearsed earlier. “Nearly a year. Ten months to be exact.”

“Sho-chan, why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve met him earlier in Tokyo and had a double date or something!”

Sho shrugs. “I had a tough schedule, remember? Had to pull extra hours in order to file for a leave for Satoshi-kun’s wedding.”

Aiba laughs. “Once we’re back in Tokyo, we’ll grab a bite or something. Shihori-chan would love that.”

“Shihori-chan’s his girlfriend,” Sho explains to Matsumoto, who only gives Aiba a reassuring smile.

“I’ll leave it to Sho-san; if there’s anyone who can make our schedules match, it’s him,” Matsumoto says with confidence, and Sho’s amazed at how believable it sounds.

“I don’t doubt that,” Aiba says, exchanging one look with Sho in the rear view mirror. “Is that one of the things you like about him, Matsujun?” Aiba’s eyebrows wiggle.

“Sometimes,” Matsumoto answers with a smile. “He has every minute planned, you see.”

“That’s Sho-chan for you,” Aiba says, sounding proud. “And you, Sho-chan? What do you like about Matsujun here?”

“He’s a hard worker like me,” Sho says with practiced ease, remembering Matsumoto’s earnest apologies when they couldn’t meet prior to their departure. He’s not exactly lying. “It’s easy to find a rhythm.”

“Easy, huh?” And there it is, the Aiba Masaki smirk that reminds Sho of Nino’s too much. He’s definitely thinking of something lewd.

Don’t ask it, Sho prays. Don’t ask that question next, not that one—

“This one’s for Matsujun, then,” Aiba says, oblivious to Sho’s growing panic. Sho hears Matsumoto hum in question, and he wants to disappear right then and there. “On a scale of one to ten, with ten meaning it’s totally mind-blowing, how’s the sex life?”

Sho chokes on nothing; he didn’t expect Aiba to be so blunt about it.

If Matsumoto was shocked, he definitely didn’t show it. He still has that cool, collected expression on his face. “Huh,” Matsumoto says, tilting his head in thought. He sneaks a glance at Sho and Sho musters all the apology he can with one look.

Maybe Sho should have really warned him about it.

“Eight,” Matsumoto answers after his pause, one that’s not too long that it could’ve alerted Aiba that something was amiss. At least, that’s what Sho thinks, in that part of his brain that still had the ability to think.

Eight. He’s still trying to process the number; it’s obviously a lie, but that high? On the one hand, Sho’s still thrown out of the loop by Aiba’s question and Matsumoto’s quick answer to it, but on the other, there’s a part of him that wants to know what could make Matsumoto Jun give someone a perfect ten.

He’s desperately trying to ignore that part.

Aiba laughs in reply, his eyes crinkling at the sides when Sho meets his gaze at the mirror. “I know a good sex shop or two, even if we’re in Honolulu.”

“No thanks,” Sho says quickly, his brain having recovered. “I’m not going to any sex shop with you.”

After all, Sho still remembers the taste of a strawberry-flavored condom.

100% latex, 0% strawberry. Not recommended.

“That was a long time ago, Sho-chan,” Aiba says, because he knows what Sho’s thinking of. “But you know where to find me if you change your mind. You too, Matsujun.”

“I’ll keep it in mind, Aiba-san,” Matsumoto says good-naturedly, inclining his head in thanks.

Aiba whistles in glee, and when Sho catches Matsumoto’s eye, he tilts his head briefly in apology.

This is going to be the longest two weeks of Sho’s life.

(2/5)

Comments

[yuuki-73.livejournal.com]

I am having good feelings about this one.

This is the piece of cheesecake (luv it!) that I chose for a start in the reading of the works of this exchange!

Great plot, beautiful writing!!!

Let's see how long it will take me to finish the chapters.