It was always late when Semi would finally decide he had finished his practice. Every night, he would stay later than anyone at the E-Harmony headquarters, just tuning and strumming all his guitars, playing songs completely solo on them constantly until he was satisfied with how they sounded. Not to mention, it was the time he was able to practise his vocals without Goshiki and Tendou trying to hop in.

So he wasn't expecting to turn around and see a hazy silhouette up by the door an hour after everyone had left.

He hesitated nervously. It was hard to see outside because of how dark the corridor was and he knew whoever was out there would have a good view of him. Semi sat rigidly in his seat with one of his guitars on his lap, stilling the humming strings slowly.

The door handle began to bend and he prepared mentally to hit the intruder with the guitar when a familiar brat with copper-haired bangs poked his head around the door.

"Shirabu!" He exclaimed, in surprise, but relaxing. He let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding in. "You gave me a heart attack, you brat."

"Well, you scared the crap out of me too," Shirabu growled. "I had turned most of the lights off and then I hear this distant playing. I thought there was a stalker-fan in here or something."

Semi narrowed his eyes at him. "What are you even doing here? It's so late."

Shirabu put a hand on his hip. "I could ask you the same thing, y'know." He glanced at the guitar, then the microphone Semi had set up in front of him. "Were you... singing?"

The guitarist turned his head away, with an embarrassed flush. "Don't need to sound so surprised. Yeah, I was. I'm not just the guitarist, you know, I do all the rap parts in our songs too. I guess you don't listen to them, though, you don't seem too interested, so you wouldn't know."

Shirabu thought briefly of his playlist filled with E-Harmony songs. "Yeah, I wouldn't know. My brother's a fan, though."

"You've got a brother?"

"Two," Shirabu said, slipping casually into the room and shutting the door behind him. "Both younger than me. One is overly clingy with a weird lung problem and the other one got into a big falling out with my dad a while back. I haven't talked to him in a few years."

Semi blinked at him, then looked down at his guitar, beginning to lazily tune it. "Well, I've got a brother and a sister. They're older than me, though, so they try to boss me around a lot."

Shirabu watched him tune the guitar, eyes following the movement of the guitarists' fingers. He slowly pulled up a chair for himself and sat on it backwards, so he hunched over the back as he faced Semi. "How do you know when you've tuned it right?" He asked, pretending not to notice Semi's' curious glance. "You just look like you're turning those little knobbles for no reason."

"W-Well, I guess every guitar has a different sound, and everyone has an opinion. For example," He began, whirling the knobs at his guitar head, "I like this sound," He said, strumming it. "But Taichi," He continued, tuning it again, "Likes this one more."

The assistant manager hummed thoughtfully, then let his eyes drift up to the row of guitars hanging on the wall behind Semi. He wasn't going to admit that he recognised all of them and knew which one he used for which album. That would be admitting he was a fan and, for some weird reason, he didn't want to do that.

"There's a lot, isn't there?" Semi said, following his gaze. "All mine, mind you. No one else is allowed to use them, at least not without my permission."

"Could you teach me how to play one?" Shirabu asked. "I've never gotten to play an instrument outside of some weird mandatory stuff in elementary school. And that was just, like, a ukelele or something."

Semi glanced at the copper-haired guy and then set down the guitar he had on him and walked over to his collection. "Which one?" He asked.

Shirabu internally panicked. He hadn't thought that far. He scanned the display and pointed at Semi's' famous electric guitar, trying to play it off casually. "That one, maybe?"

Semi paused, looking hesitant and bitter briefly, but picked it up off the wall and walked back to Shirabu, moving the strap to rest around his neck.

It was heavier than the assistant manager expected and he quickly grabbed the neck to balance its' weight. He noticed delicate roses handpainted up the sides, something he had never seen in photoshoots. Glancing up at Semi before looking back to the guitar, he strummed the six strings and listened to the sound it made.

"Cool," He murmured, strumming them again.

Semi edged up a little closer. "Try picking them."

"Eh?" Shirabu frowned.

"Like, pluck them. Here," Semi leant forwards and plucked a singular string, making a slightly different sound than the usual musical hum.

Shirabu let the noise die out and then tried the same string as Semi. He pinched it and lifted it away from the guitar, before dropping it. It didn't sound nearly as nice and he saw Semi visibly cringe.

"Not like that, then?" He asked with a small smirk.

"Not gonna lie, I thought you were about to snap the string just now," Semi said.

Shirabu panicked a little and looked at the string he just pinched in fear, trying to see if he had damaged it. Semi laughed at his reaction.

"No, you don't need to panic. Those strings are pretty strong, you wouldn't have strained them. When picking a string, at least, what I do, is lock my fingernail or my picker under it and lift it slightly before dropping it. When you actually pinch it, it makes a weird noise." Semi demonstrated on the guitar he had been practising on before Shirabu interrupted him. "Now you try."

Shirabu hesitated, the image of snapping one of the strings accidentally playing in his head on loop, then attempted it again. It started well, but he accidentally brushed past the string when moving his finger out and forced the sound to stop jarringly.

Semi started to laugh again. "Wow, you are not good at this."

"Well, I'm sorry," Shirabu sniffed indignantly. "It turns out that I'm not the lead guitarist for the biggest band in Japan."

The lead guitarist for the biggest band in Japan gasped loudly. "You mean... not everyone can be me?"

"Thankfully, otherwise everyone would be ugly."

"Beauty is a thing of opinion-"

"Ha, not in this society, buddy. We are only worth something if we look like the magazine cover of plastic surgery."

Semi arched an eyebrow. "You are just a ball of positive vibes, aren't you?"

Shirabu smirked and began to strum and pluck at the guitar repetitively, twisting the knobs experimentally. "One of my many charming features."

"God, I hate you."

"I can't stand you either."

"Brat."

"Spoilt."

"Bangsie."

"Whore- Wait, bangsie?" Shirabu echoed with a frown. "The fuck? At least I'm no bowl-cut brat!"

Semi stared. "Bowl-cut brat... As in, like, Goshiki?"

Shirabu nodded. "Exactly like Goshiki. Honestly, I didn't think he'd be so whiny."

The guitarist smirked. "I'm using that next time I see him."

"Oi! Think up your own insults, fashion failure."

Semi laughed at him. "Honestly, brat, I don't care-"

Shirabu's' phone started ringing and the assistant manager sighed, picking it up.

"Shirabu Izumo," He said with a sigh. "This is the fourth time you've tried to call me in the last twenty minutes and the fourth time I've picked up. Is this an emergency?"

"Yes."

"What is it?"

"I can't find my Kung Fu Panda DVD."

Although Semi could only hear one side of the conversation, he could see Shirabu's' face and he looked like he wanted to scream incredibly loudly.

The assistant manager breathed in deeply, forcing himself to be calm.

"'Zumo. I'm working."

"But I'm bored! I wanna talk to you! I wanna talk to your new friends!"

Shirabu frowned. "What 'new friends'? I rarely leave my apartment, like, ever."

"E-Harmony!"

He snickered and made direct eye-contact with Semi. "Oh, E-Harmony?" He said loudly and snarkily. "Why would I be friends with such spoilt, whiny brats? Honestly, they can't even insult people decently."

"You're a little bitch," Whispered Semi.

Izumo huffed. "Can you still get me their autographs, Mr Social-Interactions-Are-Dumb?"

"I can try but, honestly, they probably wouldn't care to give autographs to you, my dear unfortunate, baby brother! They're so heartless!" Shirabu declared dramatically.

"Slanderous snake," Mouthed Semi with a glare.

"Kenken, are you drinking without me?"

Shirabu laughed. "After last night? I'm not going near another bottle for at least a week. In all seriousness, though, I can get you some. If you stop pestering me."

Izumo sounded happy as he brightly said, "Thank you, Kenken! Best big brother ever!"

"Okay, I'm gonna end call soon then. Remember, no screaming, no running and no getting out of breath! If you do, call an ambulance, doctors' orders-"

"Yeah, yeah, doctors' orders, I know," Izumo interrupted. "You've reminded me of all the rules since day one. Bye, Kenjiro. Get me those autographs soon!"

Shirabu hung up the phone and pocketed it again. He could tell Semi was watching him curiously, wondering what the last part of his conversation was about, but Shirabu ignored him and began to strum at the guitar again.

As Semi opened his mouth to inevitably ask Shirabu about it, the assistant manager interrupted him. "Hey, teach me a riff, will ya?"

"Huh? Uh, sure, I guess."

An hour or so later, Shirabu had expertly rebuffed all of Semi's' questions about whatever was going on with the person who called him, presumably his brother, seeming as they had the same last name.

By the time they agreed it was time to stop, it was clear that the new assistant manager was good at keeping secrets. Good. Semi had always liked a challenge.

"Well, I'll see you tomorrow," Semi said, as he hanged the guitar back on the wall.

"Unfortunately so," Shirabu sighed.

Semi smirked. "Hopefully you'll be a lot nicer than this morning."

"Hopefully, I'll have a lot of coffee."