Curate, connect, and discover
a friend showed me this clip of Idolish7 and i've been binging the show ever since
this is my contribution to the fandom lol
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“Iorin,” Tamaki whined, slumping into the doorframe of their dorm bathroom, still dressed in his pajamas. “Where’s my toothbrush?”
Iori continued straightening his school tie in the mirror, sparing an irritated glance towards his team member. “I’m not your mother.”
Tamaki’s head slumped lower on the frame. “But Iorin, it’s not there.”
“Where else would it be?” Iori shot back, thankful that Tamaki’s closed eyes allowed him to stealthily tally up the toothbrushes scattered around the sink.
Iori’s toothbrush was resting upright in the cup meant for toothbrushes, as was Sogo-san’s and Yamato-san’s. Nagi-san’s- an obnoxiously pink, wand-shaped thing- was beside the cup at least, and Mitsuki’s was balanced on the tiny line of counter ledge the same way he’d done since they were young, and Nanase-san’s was in the shower like a heathen.
Tamaki’s toothbrush was not there.
“King pudding,” Tamaki mumbled.
Iori stomped on his foot and Tamaki jerked to attention with a cry. “Don’t you dare fall asleep!” Iori chastised.
“But-”
“Either go find it or go buy a new one, but if you’re late getting back I will leave for school without you.”
Tamaki yawned. “I’ll just have a mint.”
Iori frowned. “That’s unsanitary.”
“Then I’ll ask the manager for one.”
“That’s rude.” Iori pushed past Tamaki to exit the bathroom. “She’s way too busy already to go running errands for you.”
Tamaki groaned, letting Iori’s small nudge of his shoulder turn into a slow-motion pantomime of being shoved to the ground. “I just won’t go to school then,” he said, curling up on the hallway’s dirty carpet.
Iori huffed and stepped over Tamaki’s limp body to make his way towards the kitchen where Sogo-san, predictably, sat at the table nursing a warm cup of tea.
The mug was halfway to his lips when he noticed Iori’s approach and he paused, smiling. “Oh, Iori-kun. Good mo-”
“Tamaki’s on the ground because he’s lazy and can’t find his toothbrush and won’t go buy a new one and if he tries to leave the house with me without cleaning his mouth I might kill him.”
Sogo-san hardly blinked while Iori explained the situation, and only after a long sip of tea that had Iori tapping his foot on the ground in impatience did he finally say, “You’re not really a morning person, are you, Iori-kun?”
Iori frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?”
Sogo-san smiled gently. “You’re just normally a lot more…level-headed.”
“I’m being level-headed,” Iori huffed, “I went and got you, didn’t I?’
Sogo-san blinked. “What am I supposed to do about it?”
Iori, maturely, resisted the urge to groan aloud and walked (not stomped) to the fridge instead to pour himself a glass of orange juice. As he watched the glass fill with bright pulpy liquid, he mentally recited, it’s good for you, there are antioxidants, it helps your gut and when he felt marginally more relaxed he turned to Sogo-san. Calmly.
“You manage him for Mezzo, don’t you?”
Sogo-san made a so-so gesture with his head, mouth twisting with uncertainty and what were probably thoughts he wouldn’t dare let escape his polite mouth.
“So manage him,” Iori demanded, downing his glass in one go and depositing it in the sink where it belonged. He wrinkled his nose at the myriad of cups still littering the counter from yesterday.
Iori lived with a horde of pigs.
Sogo-san continued to drink his tea, lightly tapping out the melody to one of their most recent songs on the tabletop with the soft pad of his fingertip.
The clock continued to tick away.
Iori marched to the chair directly opposite him and stared- maturely and unflinchingly.
Ten seconds, Iori predicted.
Sogo-san’s tapping turned more forced, his gaze darting anywhere but Iori.
Eight…
“He’s not my responsibility, you know.”
Iori lightly tipped his head in acknowledgement, then let his gaze track pointedly over all the empty chairs surrounding them.
Six…
“Tamaki-kun needs to learn to do things for himself,” Sogo-san pointed out. “This could be a learning experience!”
Iori raised his eyebrow.
Sogo-san’s mouth twisted.
Four…
“This isn’t even Mezzo related. Not really.”
Iori scoffed.
Three…
“Maybe…maybe he’s already gone looking for his toothbrush?” he suggested hopefully.
Two…
Iori discreetly held his breath, hoping to punctuate the perfect silence permeating the dorms. There was absolutely no toothbrush-related ruffling.
One.
“Oh, fine,” Sogo-san sighed, rising unhappily from the table and pointing a finger towards Iori, “but I’m not his keeper.”
“Uh-huh,” Iori agreed lightly.
“I’m not,” Sogo-san repeated, denial thick on his tongue as he walked toward the bathroom, tea still in hand.
“And I don’t have a thing for idiots,” Iori murmured under his breath.
There were still fifteen minutes before he and Tamaki needed to leave for school so maybe he could just shut his eyes for a-
Nanase-san suddenly pulled out the chair beside Iori and shot him a grin far too sunny for the early morning hour, placing two plates of toast down. “You don’t have a what?” he asked pleasantly, sliding one toward Iori.
Iori squinted in the face of such brightness, then cleared his throat.
“Nothing. Is this all you know how to make?”
Nanase-san’s bright smile melted into a frown. “I told you I’ve never lived on my own before,” he complained.
Iori took a bite of the offering, pleased.
“You’re pathetic.”
“I am not,” Nanase-san denied halfheartedly, too used to this particular insult to rise to the bait like he had when they had first formed Idolish7.
Iori would just have to try harder, then.
“You didn’t even make anything at all! How’re you gonna stay healthy for the group if you’re skipping meals, huh?”
Iori spared a glance at Nanase’s overly sincere expression to ensure he wasn’t making things up but no, Nanase’s best rebuttal was an earnest appeal to Iori’s health.
How cute.
Iori cleared his throat. “How could I cook with Tamaki-kun making such a fuss?”
“What? Tamaki’s still asleep in the hallway.”
A spike of irritation shot through Iori. After he’d gone through all that effort to get Sogo-san to solve the problem, too.
“He better not be. I’ll kill him.”
Nanase-san laughed, unfairly awake and amused at such an early hour. His right hand rested comfortably on the back of Iori’s chair. “You’re not much of a morning person, are you?”
Iori was…not sure what kind of a person he was, yet.
Still, he knew he found delight in giving Nanase-san a hard time and, mature as he was, Iori couldn’t see a reason to give that up when it made him feel so pleasantly warm.
Iori shrugged carelessly, tucking away any hint of the smile he felt growing in his chest. “Maybe I’d be cheerier if you didn’t burn my toast.”
“What?” Nanase-san exclaimed. “No way! I didn’t burn anything!”
Iori stared at him blanky until Nanase-san began to fidget, his cheeks taking on a bit of the color Iori worked so hard to see everyday.
“Well,” Nanase-san mumbled, eyes darting away, “you ate it anyway so it couldn’t have been that bad.”
Iori rose from the table and placed his empty plate in the sink, where it belonged, lips curling upward only with Nanase-san at his back.
“I’m very polite, Nanase-san.”
“Polite my ass.”