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Title: Make It Worth It
Pairing: Ryo/Tacchon
Rating: PG-15
Warnings: Some language, mild sex
Summary: Ryo has had enough of touring and being away from home and Tacchon for so long. He consideres quitting and throwing it all away, but Tacchon has a different idea.
Notes: AU. This wasn't my original idea for the fic, as I already had one nearly finished before starting completely over. This was much more enjoyable to write, so I hope it is good to read.


I can hear the fans screaming from below the stage. Before, it would have filled me with excitement, making it hard to keep the jitters as I waited for the show to begin. My heart would pound so loudly in my ears I could hardly hear the others around me. The seconds before the show dragged on forever. The fans’ enthusiasm and passion was contagious, and I always caught it.

Now, my guitar feels heavy draped over my shoulder. My eyes hurt and my head throbs from getting so little sleep in the past weeks. I lean against one of the thick poles holding the stage up, dreading as announcements ring out for the audience to find their seats. Any minute, the show will begin, and I don’t have the heart to even fake happiness about it. My muscles ache and it’s a burden to carry this instrument around all night.

Already, I’ve done over 40 shows, hitting major domes and concert arenas first in Japan, and headed overseas weeks ago to start the international portion, sometimes hitting multiple arenas in a single country. With this being my third time with a tour this large, it’s unbearable. The first year was like a dream, seeing so many arenas, so many countries, being supported by thousands upon thousands of people. It was like I was on a high every night, my feet hardly touching the stage. I couldn’t contain myself when the news came that the tour would cross the ocean. I called Tacchon, screaming into the phone so loud he had me repeat it three times before he understood. He was happy for me too, even though I’d be gone from home most of the year, and there was no way he could just quit work and travel with me, even if we were open about our relationship. He wasn’t interested in seeing the world, anyhow. If it was possible, Tacchon would go to all the concerts he could while I was in Japan.

After every show, he’d meet me backstage in the dressing room, alone, while everyone else was celebrating the end of another great concert. We’d have our own little celebration behind locked doors. I had so much energy still pent up from the show that needed to be released. Clothes came off so quickly one of Tacchon’s shirts once ripped. The kisses were messy and clumsy as we fought for dominance. The room became hot as we kissed, his hands exploring every inch of my body like he was memorizing it.

It would usually be ended too soon with a knock on the door from one of the other band members or the manager, asking me to hurry up or the bus would leave without me. We’d take our time getting dressed, stealing kisses and light touches from each other. Tacchon would slip out first and hurry down the hall once the coast was clear. I’d strap on a face mask to hide any marks or swelling that showed up after making out so intensely and board the bus to take off for the next city.

I’d always miss the after-show sex when we left Japan, but I dealt with it. It would all end and I’d eventually make it back to Tacchon for a week of not leaving the bedroom. We’d video chat every opportunity we got, but the further I got from Japan, the harder it was to schedule the time. One message a day was sent from both of us. The more time I spent away, the less I knew about Tacchon’s life.

Even when I made it home, there was hardly any time for a real break. Endless interviews, photoshoots, and television appearances took up all my time, not including practices for performances or filming for music videos. We had the nights, but I was usually too tired to do anything but hold him.

“I can’t do this anymore.” I told Tacchon one night on the phone, laying on the hotel bed, too exhausted to out of one of the concert outfits I’d left the arena in after rehearsal.

“But you’ve been doing so well.”

I coughed up a laugh, shaking my head. “That’s not the point. This is too much. I still have so many more cities to hit. I can’t stand doing another one.”

“This has been your dream though, hasn’t it? You’re concerts are awesome. Do you even know how many girls start crying during your songs? Do you see the hundreds of thousands of people who come to your shows, to see you and only you?”

I covered my eyes with my arm, the light from the dim lamp irritating. “The only person I want to see is you.”

There was a pause, and my heart started pounding, wondering if the connection screwed up. It happened enough times before that we stopped talking about important things in fear that we’d be left wondering what the hell was going to be said for who knows how long. Neither of us needed that kind of stress. I heard Tacchon sigh, and I knew without him saying it that he felt the same way. He hated being so far and out of touch just as much as I did.

“All I do is perform. Preform, eat, and sleep. Maybe once in three weeks I’ll have a break, and even then I can’t relax. I don’t want to do another show. I can’t even stand the thought of it.” When I thought about the next concert, my heart would start beating so fast and hard I could feel it in my throat . A heavy pressure would press against my chest and it got hard to breath. It ticked me off that they scheduled things so tightly there was no room for error. “I just want to be home.”

“I would do anything to have you back here.”

“Maybe I’ll have them cancel the rest of the tour. Refuse to go on stage anymore.”

“Would they really let you do that?” Tacchon’s voice was hopeful, yet sad

“Probably not.” I brought it up once, as a passing thought, only to be met with my managers wide, frantic eyes as he stammered over the answer, scared out of his mind that I was serious. “Too much money has been spent and too many arrangements have been made. I’d have to wait until the end of the tour to end it.”

“Is it really what you want?”

I wanted to be home, be like every other person on the planet and not feel like I was dying every day from fatigue. I wanted to be able to do whatever I wanted without having the whole world scrutinize my every move and without such a tight schedule I had no say in. Would I miss performing? Sure. Would I miss all the fans and support, and travelling the world? Sure. But I’d rather give all that up if I could just be home with Tacchon every evening.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Give it time.” Tacchon said, oddly unselfish. The first year I’d been on tour he moped and groaned about the schedule, begging me to skip out on concerts to see him. But after some time, he gave up complaining, knowing I never could control what happened while I was gone. Being gone became a fact of life. He supported my music more than he ever used to. “You’re stressed. Don’t go and throw something you love so much out when things get hard. If you did that all the time, we wouldn’t be together anymore. Maybe all you need is a long break.”

We said goodbye and I tossed my phone aside. I sat up, leaning my head on my arms propped up by my knees. I gripped my hair, hating how Tacchon could take it all so lightly when I needed help. When I wanted some encouragement in my decisions. I wanted to hear him say yes, finally, you’ll be home. I wanted to hear him jumping for joy, ecstatic that the long distance relationship we’ve been trying to hold together was over, and soon there wouldn’t be even an inch between us. He was trying to be supportive, but not in the way I wanted.

I talked to him less after that. He sent a string of encouraging texts, about doing my best on stage and just breathing once in awhile. I didn’t want to hear it. Most of the day my phone was off, trying to keep the distractions as far away as possible. Exhaustion was making concentrating much more difficult than it should be. If Tacchon called, I would leave it short, making up an excuse that with the performance so close, we were using all the time we could to practice and get everything right. Each time, his voice was more and more defeated, but I didn’t have much of a desire to talk to him when he wanted me to continue something I was so unhappy with. The hole of loneliness I’d been carrying only got bigger with Tacchon and I not talking, but it gave me one thing that I was in control of. The only thing.

“Nishikido?” The stage manager’s hand landed on my shoulder, pulling me back to the arena. “The concert is about to start, we need you ready at center stage.” He looked worried, and I looked at my watch. Only two minutes until show time and I’m on the opposite side of the stage. I sigh heavily, deflating at the thought of being on stage for the next two hours, singing words I didn’t care about anymore. I pushed past the stage crew in my way, finding the platform that would bring me to the top of the stage.

The announcement is made that the show was starting, and the crowd screams. The platform rose and I was blinded by the lights hanging above the stage. The audience was dark, only the faces of those closest visible. I strummed the strings on the guitar, chords from no song in particular, and the girls went nuts, their screams deafening. I approached the mic, considered saying the concert was canceled, to go on back home and away from me; let me have some peace for once. I gripped the mic, ready.

“Everyone,” I said, and the crowd roared again before bringing the noise down to a murmur. Girls were bouncing in their spots, overly excited, clutching their friend’s hands and their uchiwas. My eyes scanned the crowd, seeing the same faces over and over again. “This concert, it’s…” My eyes caught something rare, a man’s face, near the front of the stage. He smiled up at me, so familiar. It looked exactly like Tacchon.

The air was knocked out of me, a chill running up my spine. It felt like a hand had a hold on my heart, gripping it so tight it might burst. My knees buckled, but I caught myself. It was Tacchon. It couldn’t have been anyone else. His height, his messy brown hair, the way he smirked at me instead of a true smile. I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping it hadn’t been something in my eye, or the lights playing tricks. I opened them again, and he was gone. I thought I’d lost sight of him, there were thousands of people in the arena, but I couldn’t spot him again. I wanted to believe he had been there. I held my chest, trying to keep it from hurting.

If that really was him, if he really had been there, the last thing he’d want is to have me cancel the concert without even trying. He’d kill me for wasting his time and money, flying halfway across the world to see it. The audience would feel the same. They’d probably be just as heartbroken as I feel, right now, if I just called it off and disappeared backstage.

It’ll be my last concert. I’ll give these people what they came to see, a fucking good concert. As much as I wanted to run off stage right onto a plane to Japan, as much as I longed for home, I decided to give it my all. I’d never be on stage ever again after this, so I may as well go out with a bang.

Instead of finishing my sentence, I started playing the first song in the set, catching the backup band off guard. I hit the strings so hard I lost the picks. I screamed into the microphone, not caring if it sounded good or not. The fans were going wild either way. My hands burned, my arms ached, and my voice started to crack halfway through the set.

By the end, I could hardly talk. But they loved it. Half the girls in the audience were crying, shouting that they loved me. For the first time in months, I smiled at the audience, a real, genuine smile. It had been fun, letting go of everything and giving the show everything I had. I’d been half-assing performances for the longest time it just became natural, and I forgot what it was like to just let the music happen and let it take over. I was glad I didn’t call the concert off.

After the encore, when the arena lights finally went on and the crowd started filing out, I headed back stage, dropping pieces of clothing along the way. I was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to just pass out on the bus as we moved on to the next city. I grabbed a bottle of water, downing half the bottle, hoping it would help my voice.

“That was a pretty great show,” I nearly dropped the water bottle. The sudden voice making my heart jump into my throat. I turned, and sitting on the couch like he always does, was Tacchon, lounging back like he was at home.

“What are you doing here?” I forced out, my throat still closed up.

“I came to see you play, why else?” He stood and came toward me, stopping just an inch away. “What, you didn’t want me to come?”

Of course I did! Words were stuck in my throat. My hands shook at my side, hoping I hadn’t somehow fallen asleep in the dressing room and Tacchon wasn’t really there. I reached out, touching the soft fabric of Tacchon’s shirt, gripping it tightly, a cold wash of relief rushing through me. He was here. In the flesh. Thousands of miles away from home.

“Hey, what’s up with you? I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

I shook my head, not sure myself what the hell was wrong with me. Just seeing Tacchon brought so much emotion I hadn’t felt in a long time back. The passion, the longing. I’d realized I’d gotten upset only when Tacchon rubbed his sleeve against my face, small wet marks left behind.

“Geeze, you’re a mess. Don’t tell me all this time on the road has made you soft.” He went to rub my face again, like a mother taking care of a hurt kid. I swung his arm out of the way, backing toward the wall to get some space to breath.

“Shut up. You just showed up out of nowhere and nearly gave me a heart attack. I still didn’t cool off from the concert.”

“I missed seeing your concerts, and I had vacation time coming up so I thought I’d take a day or two to come visit. Aren’t I nice?”

“You could have let me know instead of almost making my heart fail.”

“I thought a surprise would be better.”

He was right. If I’d known he was coming, I definitely would have called the whole thing off. I wouldn’t have cared if my manager or the label got pissed off at me. Tacchon was here, for who knows how long, and the last thing I would have wanted to do was waste time giving a meaningless concert to people I didn’t know or care all that much about.

“So you really were in the audience.”

“Well I wasn’t going to spend the whole two hours back here waiting for you to be done. Besides, you tore it up out there. I’m glad I got to see it.”

“Yeah, good thing. It won’t be happening again.” I passed Tacchon by, peeling the damp shirt off and throwing it toward the clothes rack. I pulled a clean shirt out of my travel bag, but before I could put it on, Tacchon snatched it from my hands.

“You’re serious about giving it up?”

I rolled my eyes, collapsing against the leather couch. “I already told you. I’m tired of this. I’ve done enough. I need more than just a fucking break.”

“Even though you put on such an awesome show? I haven’t seen you play like that in months! I’ve heard your songs millions of times, and I never felt that much power come from you.”

“It was only because I thought I saw you. Because I knew you’d be pissed if you flew all the way out here, wasted a shit ton of money, just to see me blow it off.”

Tacchon nodded, taking the spot on the couch next to me, his arm laying across my shoulders. “You’re right. I probably would have killed you.”

“There’s no point putting so much into it if it’s not for you.”

“I feel bad for your fans.”

“Fuck them. Once I’m old and washed up, they’ll forget about me. You won’t.”

“No?” Tacchon shifted so he was right in my line of sight. “Maybe if you throw all this away, I’ll leave just like them. I’m only in this because you’re famous. Because I can tell people I’m Nishikido Ryo’s boyfriend. If you’re not a rock star, then I’m nothing too. I didn’t sign up to be a nobody.”

I punched him hard in the arm, putting as much distance between us as I could on the tiny couch. “You’re an asshole. I’m being serious here and you’re just pissing me off more.”

Tacchon sighed, closing the gap back up, giving me no room against the arm rest. “Okay, seriously.” He started, his voice low and soft. “I get it. You’re homesick. You think I don’t miss you like crazy? That I’m not sitting there in our apartment lonely as hell, wondering whether or not you’re battling your own loneliness with some sleaze on the side? I deal with it. Because I know you’re doing something you really, really love. And when you finally do get home, I’ll always be there, waiting and ready, because I haven’t had real sex in months and you’re the only one who knows how to do things right. Besides, you’ll be old and washed up sooner than you think. Then you’ll have all those years to sit around doing nothing, and you’ll see my face so much you’ll get sick of seeing it.”

I couldn’t tell if Tacchon was trying to be romantic, kind, or sarcastic. It was nice to know that he didn’t go off screwing people while I was gone, but it wasn’t something I really worried about in the first place. Something told me Tacchon wouldn’t, and I trusted it. Tacchon’s face was so close to mine, I could feel his breath on my ear, sending a chill down my back.

“What am I supposed to do? Just keep going through the emotions for each show? It’s exhausting.”

“Then just pretend I’m in the audience, right in the front, watching you.” His hand rested on my thigh, tracing small shapes lightly against the fabric. “And if you can’t do that, just imagine every time I notice you’re half assing things, that I’m going out and finding someone else to screw because the only reason I save myself for you is because you earn it and deserve it. Try it. Just until the end of the tour.”

Tonight had been exhilarating. I enjoyed myself more than I had in a long time. The thought of the long days of practices and traveling still sank in my stomach, but if every night could end like this one, maybe it would be worth it. “You know you’re not allowed in anyone else’s bed.”

A small smirk spread across Tacchon’s face. “Does that mean you’ll do it?”

“It means I’ll try. I don’t promise anything.”

Tacchon shifted, throwing left leg over me, straddling my waist. “I’ll take that.” Pushing my chin up, Tacchon kissed me, pressing his body against mine. I slid my hands around his waist, slipping up his shirt, missing the feel of his smooth skin. It wasn’t as rushed as usual, Tacchon taking his time, the kisses soft and light. He slowly traced his tongue along my lips and I gladly accepted him. He tasted like mint, refreshing and cool. One hand wound through my hair, the other traveling slowly down my chest, each touch making me shiver despite being so warm. Tacchon’s hips moved slowly against mine, a warm pool formed in my stomach as a new passion was ignited.

We didn’t have that much time together, and Tacchon was well aware of that. His hand worked at the button of my jeans, his lips leaving mine for my neck. He didn’t bother trying to pull the pants off, instead slid his hand under the elastic, his fingers gliding lightly over my dick before gripping it in his fist. I couldn’t hold back the moan, weak from months of not being touched by Tacchon in so long. I could feel his teeth against my skin, biting lightly at my neck. Something as simple as Tacchon’s hand shouldn’t get me aroused so quickly, but with just a few quick pumps of his fist I was hard, pressing further into his grasp. His pace in uneven, speeding up and slowing down at random intervals, so much that I couldn’t find the rhythm, the unpredictability making me more hot and turned on, sending small shocks up my spine. I reached for Tacchon’s jeans, undoing his buttons clumsily, hoping it gave him the clue that I want mine off too, the jeans becoming too restricting. I wanted more of Tacchon. I wanted all of him, to feel him inside of me, to just absorb all of him into me. But he was playing hard to get, shifting his hips away as I tried to pull off his jeans.

“Nishikido!” A deep voice called from the hall. My stomach instantly dropped as my body went stiff and numb. Tacchon’s hand stopped abruptly, a loud sigh escaping as his head dropped to my shoulder. I tensed, a new kind of heat rising inside. “The manager wants you on the bus! We gotta get out of here!”

“Give me a minute!” my voice was rough, and I hoped it came off as aggravation instead of exasperation. A minute passed, and I desperately hoped Tacchon would be quick and finish, hoped that the one little interruption hadn’t ruined everything. Making them wait just a little bit longer wouldn’t hurt anyone. I rolled my hips against Tacchon’s hand to bring his attention back to me. Instead, Tacchon removed his hand from my pants and pushed off the couch.

“What are you doing?” I whined, hating the cool air that hit now that Tacchon’s heat was missing.

“Remember how you feel right now when you’re up on stage. And when you get home, after a long year of touring, you’ll have the real finale to look forward to.” He smirked and leaned down for one more quick kiss before he adjusted his clothes and headed for the door. “See you soon.” He saluted with one hand as he disappeared into the hall, leaving me alone in the dressing room, staring at an empty doorway, still hard and trying to comprehend everything that just happened.

The staff member walked past the doorway again, glancing in. “Uh,” He said, his eyes wide, a frown forming on his face as he saw my disheveled state. “Do you need help?” he asked, reaching for the cell phone in his pocket. “Should I call someone?”

“Just give me a minute!” I snapped, causing the guy to jump and run out of sight of the room. After ten minutes, I finally got myself cooled off and collected and on the bus, the first half spent being scolded by the manager for taking my sweet ass time, not even able to tell him I had more important things to take care of that couldn’t even be finished because of him.

My phone vibrated in my bag, Tacchon’s ringtone quietly singing out.

“Can I help you?” I asked, polite as ever, still pissed that Tacchon left me in the position he had.

“I’m glad I got to see you tonight.” He said, sounding half asleep. He must be in his hotel. “Even if I didn’t get anything out of it.”

I leaned the seat back, having trouble keeping my eyes open as the bus lights dimmed and the rest of the band already down for the count. “If you hadn’t ran off so quickly, scared of being caught, you might just have gotten something.”

Tacchon laughed quietly. “It couldn’t be helped.” There was silence, a comforting quiet, reminding me of the few nights I could sneak him into my hotel room during the Japan portion, falling asleep to his even breathing so close to my ear. “Good luck on the rest of your tour, really. I hope I could help some. Just remember what I told you.”

“You didn’t make it something all that easy to forget.”

Tacchon laughed again before saying good night and hanging up the phone. I watched the phone dim as the call ended, already missing Tacchon, but not feeling as lonely as I had before. I owed him one, something big for coming all the way out here, doing more for me than he ever thought he would. I hoped I could hold up my end of the deal. It was the least I could do, to make everything worth it.

Man, the road really did make me soft.


~*~
A/N- I've had this idea for some time now, and I got it during my second semester writing class. I dropped the idea for a long time until the k8 fic exchange came up, and I was happy to write it. It was a lot of fun. I seem to be writing more Ryo/Ohkura lately. I wonder why? 
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