"Solo album?" Ryohei had said, sitting on the couch beside Ryuichi, but it had come out sort of like he was saying 'double-knit pants' or 'five a.m. dance practice.'

So Ryuichi had covered by saying it better, "Solo album!" like 'kiwi gummis' and 'extra day off,' and Keita had lit up in excitement and relief, hands and mouth making compulsive squares against themselves, Ryuichi's chest, Ryohei's arms.

Later, after Keita had run off somewhere to be an artist with his guitar and his brand new spiral notebook with the slightly drunk-looking bees ("Buzzed is the word you want," Ryohei had snorted at a giggling Ryuichi, "because you are a freak"), Ryuichi had made Ryohei practice saying "solo album" over and over until he started saying it right.

"Solo a-AH," Ryohei gasped after Ryuichi had shoved him down on the couch and tested just how far the spandex-rayon of Ryohei's shirt would stretch.

"Nope, not right yet." Ryuichi had shook his head sadly, then flopped down hard enough to make Ryohei crack the back of his skull on the arm of the couch.

"Solo…" Ryohei had yawned when they'd finally ended up in a loose tangle on Ryohei's bed. "Solo album."

"Hmm, better," Ryuichi had agreed, snuggling his cheek more firmly against Ryohei's shoulder since one pillow was wedged under Ryohei's hips still and the other was completely missing. He'd even reached up to rub the bump on the back of Ryohei's head.

The lessons had stuck for a while, with a few review sessions, while Keita went from practicing to recording to filming to looking like he might keel over at any second, and then started all over again.

But they had definitely worn off by the time Ryuichi was flipping channels and stumbled over Michishirube on the late night Super SMASHU Pop Countdown. Ryuichi had only even paused because the female hosts wore tennis uniforms, but by the time he realized why the first few notes of the next PV sounded familiar, it was already too late.

"Solo album!" Ryohei said, and this time it sounded exactly like 'haven't seen my bandmate for more than two minutes at a time in the last six weeks and my flailing dork quota is dangerously low.' And then he added, "and I HATE this video!"

"You do?" Ryuichi cocked his head, because Ryohei hadn't said anything like that before, and this was not anywhere near the first time they'd seen the PV. "I really…"

"And I hate that song," Ryohei just kept going, like he couldn't stop himself now that he'd got going, "and I hate that oufit and I hate that big stupid bed, and I really REALLY hate those RANDOM GUYS!"

There was a moment of silence before Ryuichi admitted, "Okay, I hate the random guys too."

Ryohei seemed to deflate a little as the PV was ending and slumped back against the couch. Ryuichi pulled his feet up on the couch to turn towards Ryohei and rested his cheek on his knees.

"Do you really hate it?" he asked. Ryohei grumbled for a second, then turned his head just far enough to meet Ryuichi's eyes.

"No." He shrugged. "It's a good video, it looks good. Keita looks good. Keita sounds good. It's the rest of it I hate. The part where he looks half-dead, and the part where the double practices are straining his voice."

"And the part where we don't get to go along and hang out in between takes and make fun of each other dancing?" Ryuichi offered, finally getting a tiny smile out of Ryohei. "It's the just sitting here! I hate that part."

"We shouldn't do that next time," Ryohei said, almost off-handedly. Then he blinked at his own words.

"We shouldn't?" Ryuichi asked, then wrinkled his brow. "Next time?" Ryohei nodded, watching Ryuichi's face carefully while he chewed his lip and thought it over. Finally, Ryuichi said, "We don't have to have the random guys in our PV though, right?"

"Don't be stupid, we'll get Keita to flail enough for half a dozen random guys," Ryohei answered, and they were both still laughing when the door opened and Keita stumbled in, eyes bright with exhaustion and hair still stiff with product. Ryohei and Ryuichi shared a glance and slid apart so there was space in between them on the couch for Keita to collapse.

Ryuichi flipped to the entertainment news, catching the very end of an interview where Yamapi failed utterly to know how many guys were in his band. Keita's eyes, which had fallen shut, cracked back open when one of his own recent interviews came on next. He growled softly, but loud enough for it to buzz against Ryohei and Ryuichi's shoulders.

"Ah, Keita-kun!" the vapid newsgirl asked, her smiled pulled back as tightly as her hair. "When can we expect your next solo album?"

"Solo album," Keita repeated with utter loathing, like 'having to be anywhere but right here,' then yelped when Ryohei and Ryuichi pounced on him at the same time.