Safety;

[withhishead]

As idols, now that they were quite famous and popular indeed, it was only natural that they would have very invested and interested fans. Fanmail was delivered on a weekly basis, and often it was simply too much to go through, though they always gave it their best shot (some more so than others; Masato was relatively certain that Syo and Otoya somehow managed to read through all of their fanmail even when there was multiple boxes of it).

Regardless, they were now in the spotlight, and that much was obvious. And for the most part, their fans were dedicated and thoughtful, excitable but fair.

It was for this reason that Ren didn't find it to be too much a big deal when he started to see familiar faces at all of his fashion shows. In fact, it was a little flattering. Dedicated fans were always nice to see, after all, and in their scattered and different areas of work, they couldn't always trust that the fans of the group STARISH would follow their independent ventures as well.

But it seemed there were some who were keen on following him, and he was perfectly fine with that.

So despite the fact that a weird incident followed that particular fashion show, Ren didn't think it was a particularly big deal. One of the fans had merely gotten a bit overexcited while he was answering questions for the camera, stumbling into frame. As soon as she had realized what had happened, she'd been perfectly apologetic, but had also determinedly offered him the flower she'd been carrying.

Ren had always been a fan of daring and guts, though. So he accepted it before she was hurried offscreen, and then he turned back to the interview and more or less forgot about the whole incident. They were idols. This didn't even make the top ten as far as strange incidents they had all been involved in were concerned.

When he got home, he just dropped the flower on the desk, far more interested in finding Masato and curling close to him. Longer days meant that they were separated for longer, and it meant that he had far more interest in being close to his true beloved.

By the time Masato saw the flower, it was the next morning, petals already wilting on the desk. Ren was still asleep, and so he couldn't ask where it had come from. But fans would be fans, and Ren's fans in particular were quite infatuated with him (it wasn't as if Masato could blame them, seeing how infatuated he was with Ren), and so he neatly clipped the end of it, leaving it in a vase of water.

After all, it seemed like such a waste to let it wilt there.

--

For another week or so, nothing seemed strange, and Ren had put the incident far out of his mind (the flower had now wilted enough to be tossed out, so there wasn't even a visual reminder). So when he saw a familiar face at his next few events, he noted that it was familiar, but not where from. He saw so many faces in a day, met so many people who wanted to speak with him, that it wasn't as if it was easy to keep track of each and every one of them.

He'd grown good at compartmentalizing back when he'd been just a child of the Jinguuji family.

As an idol, he now found he had reason to use those skills again.

So though the face was familiar (one in particular, very very familiar), he brushed it off, shaking his head. It probably wasn't important, and he had a very short break in which to eat the undoubtedly delicious lunch that Masato had made for him.

This time, she wasn't able to get close enough to him, busy as he was. So nothing happened. This time.

--

It was upon getting home from another long day that it became quite clear that something was not quite right.

He was home earlier than Masato, tonight. That much he knew was the case. But when he pushed open the door, finding it unlocked (which was strange and not quite right already), he stopped to stare at the flowers, scattered about, left in vases, clearly intended as gifts. It was the sort of gesture he would do (and did do, for the lovely lady composer who helped them so often).

But it wasn't something Masato would do, and as Masato was still at work, Ren rather doubted it was him.

Still a little dazed, Ren reached out to pluck one of the flowers from its vase. The petals were velvety and cool--it was a real plant, that was for certain. All of them were real. It must have cost a fortune.

It was strange how something that was clearly meant to be so flattering could be so foreboding. But meant to be a thoughtful gesture or not, now someone had invaded his home (and not just his, but Masato's home as well).

Ren's fingers clenched around the flower, crushing the petals even as he frowned. Someone had found where they lived, had invaded their home and their privacy, and now he wasn't sure what to do about it.

Masato arrived home in time to see Ren furiously tossing bouquets into trash bags, decimating the flowers that had been left there. And while he didn't know the situation, he walked in and closed the door behind him and stepped over to Ren quietly, eyebrow arched.

Ren wanted nothing more than to close the distance between them, wrap his arms around Masato and forget his woes in that way--but he shook his head with a short huff, muttering, "They might be watching."

Masato's expression slowly changed from curious to concerned, as from that information he slowly put together the pieces. "Should I tell--"

"No, it's fine," Ren was quick to respond. While he was quick to lean on Masato and totally able to do so now, it was harder for him to react that way even with their fellow idols. He trusted them, certainly, but he also didn't want to pile all of his problems on them when it was something as ridiculous (in his mind) as this. Instead, he offered a faint, flippant smile, saying, "I knew the ladies loved me, but this is something else."

Masato didn't look pleased, but he was silent, merely grabbing another trash bag to help Ren rid their house of the sickly sweet mass of flowers.

--

Ren didn't see that familiar face at his next event, though he was aware (and perhaps paranoid, he could admit that much to himself) enough to acknowledge that just because he didn't see those familiar faces didn't mean that they weren't there, just somewhere he had not looked. It wasn't as if they ever ran small gigs anymore.

Still, it was somehow a little reassuring. Both he and Masato had been on high alert since that day, tension on top of their normal duties leaving them both exhausted. But maybe, just maybe, without having received an answer, this bizarre fanatic stalker had gotten the hint?

He knew that that would be too good to be true.

He really, really did.

But perhaps he had allowed himself to hope, because when he saw that familiar face the next day, he froze in place for a brief moment. Of course, he was quick to shake himself, brushing off the momentary lapse and throwing himself back into his work.

But it weighed on Ren's mind nonetheless.

Things had only gotten more concerning and elaborate as time went on. He didn't want to see what would come next, and he was honest enough (in his own head) to admit that the very thought was a little frightening. If only because there was Masato, and if Masato was caught in the crossfire in any way--

A shriek caught his attention, and he turned quickly, eyes scanning the crowd--

Only to really stop and stare at the sight of Syo in a police uniform (a bit trendier than usual police uniforms, but then, they were idols), grabbing that stalker from one end, Natsuki wearing the same and mirroring his movements.

At the stares of the crowd, Otoya (dressed similarly) saluted and grinned, eternal energy completely undampened by the scene.

"Sorry about the interruption, everyone!" he exclaimed, ridiculous salute still in place. Up on the catwalk, Ren propped his hands on his hips, arching an eyebrow. He wasn't sure if he was annoyed or grateful by the interruption, especially with how the show was interrupted and the crowd's attention completely swayed (but the stalker had been handed over to legitimate law authority now, and Ren was quickly starting to figure out their plan here).

"We're always here to serve you, after all," Otoya continued, puppy-earnestness giving his words significant authenticity. "So when we heard that there was a dangerous person in your midst, we had to do our part!"

It was certainly enough for the people in the crowd; "dangerous person" no longer there, there was no reason for panic, and instead they could focus on dashing and brave idols willing to serve them.

Ren rolled his eyes and went to walk offstage; from what he knew both of crowds and idols, this would take awhile, and he didn't intend to stand up there and watch like the rest of the crowd.

Waiting for him there were Masato (expected) and Tokiya (less expected), and Ren blinked and then opened his mouth. But Masato beat him to it, saying quietly but firmly, "I know that you said that you did not wish to get them involved, and I am sorry for that. But I am not sorry for bringing them in to assist us when we needed help."

Ren knew Masato well enough to know that the "we" and "us" in that statement were geared towards him--but it was Masato's way to not single him out as someone needing help, and he could appreciate that much.

Tokiya just looked firm, dressed in the same ridiculous uniform as the rest.

"We are a team and we are in this together. What we do does not work if you are not there as well. If you are troubled by anything, I hope you will remember that."

"Ah..." Ren just ran a hand through his hair, offering a faint sigh. "I got it." And he did. It was a bit...touching? A bit touching to know that they would go through all of this effort to step in for just something as uncomfortable as this. Every single last one of them.

But this was also getting a little too emotional for him, so he just grinned at Tokiya, arching an eyebrow. "I can't imagine where you got those police uniforms. They look like a cross between police uniforms and the normal prince fare. I think I'm getting confused just looking at them."

Tokiya had the grace to look a little embarrassed at that, before frowning and crossing his arms and turning away. "It was last minute. We had to make due. I need to go make sure everyone else is doing okay."

And with that little tidbit of something scandalous (idols raiding some third rate performance about policemen? idols sewing their own costumes? the possibilities were truly endless), Tokiya shuffled off awkwardly, leaving Ren to watch him go with some amusement.

And then he turned to Masato, arching an eyebrow. Masato was dressed in his normal casual clothing, little more than slacks and a sweater to compensate for the weather, and Ren looked him over quite blatantly, shaking his head. "Everyone dressed up for me but you?" he asked, but he was still too amused and touched by the whole situation to feign any true hurt.

Masato's lips twitched. "I was engaged elsewhere while the costumes were...obtained."

That pause spoke again of sordid efforts and lengths gone to to obtain those costumes, and Ren couldn't help but be intrigued. "And where were these costumed obtained?"

At that, Masato really did smile, though he simply shook his head in response. And before Ren could pursue the subject, the manager of the show was rushing up, looking frazzled and frantic but infinitely relieved to see Ren, and Masato simply stepped back and then turned to walk away, leaving Ren to his once again frantic role in his once again frantic job.

He was an idol, after all. It was only natural. They truly didn't stop for anything.

His phone buzzed in his bag, and he managed to fend off makeup artists and hairdressers long enough to retrieve it.

I will tell you the full story when you are home.

And it brought a smile to his lips, even as he put the phone away. Of course. Masato would tell him the story when they were both home--because home was safe, a place for just them and their nakama, and that was just as it should be.

It was nice to know that they all thought it was a space worth protecting too.