Chapter Text
Aiba can’t help doing a double-take when he sees who’s waiting for him in the showroom. He’d read the name off his chart and chalked it up to coincidence, but this is actually the Ninomiya Kazunari.
“Shuri,” Aiba turns to his colleague manning the service counter, “that’s Ninomiya Kazunari.”
“Who?”
“You know, he used to be an actor? ‘Rainbow’, ‘Merry Christmas’…?”
Shuri shakes her head. Aiba suddenly remembers she’s 22 and was probably in kindergarten when those dramas aired.
“He quit acting to become a novelist,” explains Aiba. “Ever heard of ‘UB’?”
Shuri’s eyes widen. “No way, he wrote that?”
Aiba nods. He knew Shuri would recognise that one. It was made into a movie last year and captured tons of teenaged hearts.
“So he’s an ex-actor, award-winning BL romance author, and, from the way he’s swiping furiously on his phone, mobile game extraordinaire,” comments Shuri. “His vibe’s kinda loser-ish, huh?”
“I’m taking offence. He’s a legit star.”
“Of your time,” teases Shuri.
Aiba rolls his eyes and points his clipboard in the direction of Ninomiya. “I’m going to talk to him about his car.”
“Ask him if he wants another coffee, please. He’s been waiting for over thirty minutes.”
“Sure.”
The car dealer Aiba works for is in Daikanyama, posh enough an area to attract TV celebrities and the social elite. The employees have all been trained to service such clients—they must maintain good humour, pleasant manners, and keep banter to a minimum—but Aiba’s still new to the branch and it’s his first time meeting someone he actually recognises.
Aiba puts on his friendliest smile and walks up to Ninomiya. He bows. Ninomiya pauses his game and puts away his phone.
“Hello. I’m Aiba,” Aiba pauses to show his name, embroidered over the left breast pocket of his overalls, “and I’m the mechanic servicing your car.”
Ninomiya bows as well. “Please take care of me.”
Aiba returns the bow, then rounds the table to sit across from Ninomiya. “These are the results of the inspection,” says Aiba, placing the clipboard between them. There’s a chart on it that depicts the different segments of the car with Aiba’s notes in blue, and with this chart Aiba starts walking Ninomiya through the maintenance works that the car needs. Ninomiya’s treated the Lexus pretty well, but there’s some rust on the underside of it that Aiba suggests Ninomiya lets him take care of. Ninomiya asks for the price before agreeing reluctantly, and signs up for that option. Aiba picks up on Ninomiya’s scorn and makes sure to be extra apologetic as he runs through the rest of the add-ons, knowing it’s always wiser to have the customer feel the dealership’s empathy, that they too are fully aware of how exorbitant the biannual inspection can seem.
When Aiba is done and Ninomiya has signed off on the document, he picks up his clipboard and asks if Ninomiya needs another coffee. Ninomiya says no, so Aiba readies a smile and bows, about to take his leave.
He raises his head to find Ninomiya leaning across the table to look at him, chin balanced on crooked wrist, holding Aiba in critical scrutiny. Aiba wonders if he’s said anything wrong.
“How much do you make as a mechanic, Aiba-san?”
Aiba freezes, eyes wide. “Excuse me?”
“How much do you earn as a mechanic?” asks Ninomiya, rephrasing.
“I, um—my last paycheque was two hundred and fifty-eight thousand yen.” Aiba goes for the truth, too surprised to approximate.
“And how many hours do you work a day?”
“About ten?”
Ninomiya pauses, likely doing the math. “Are you allowed to moonlight?” Ninomiya’s voice drops to a murmur.
“Technically, no.”
“What if I offer you a short-term job that pays fifty thousand an hour?”
Aiba is so baffled he doesn’t know how to respond. This Ninomiya guy is kind of weird. But Aiba is curious because of the money. Some extra cash would really help: his dad’s still in physiotherapy from the car accident and can’t go back to work; the temporary chef at his restaurant costs a lot to hire. If Ninomiya’s offering this much…
“How short is ‘short-term’?” asks Aiba.
Ninomiya’s eyes flick upward in thought. “Five hours should suffice.”
Aiba’s jaw goes slack. It’s a great deal. Aiba swallows.
“Why me?”
Ninomiya shrugs. “I’ve met you and I like you. That’s important. It’s a very special project.”
Aiba’s quite ready to say yes, but he needs to know what this project is about first. “What’s the job?”
Ninomiya’s lips quirk into a devilish smile.
“Be my fake boyfriend.”
***
Two days later, when Ninomiya comes back to the dealership to pick up his partly-refurbished car, he sneaks Aiba an old flip phone.
“I’ll be in touch.” Ninomiya winks, and drives off.
A part of Aiba feels that he’s pimping himself out, but Ninomiya was clear: this is an experiment for Ninomiya’s new, unwritten story, and Aiba has given consent to their experiences together being documented, though his real name will not be used; there will be no intimacy involved; Aiba is allowed to negotiate or reject any proposition that he’s uncomfortable with; and he may withhold any personal information he does not wish to reveal.
Aiba takes a deep breath. He’s got this.