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chineseinkFini! At last! Le total = 11,483 words omgwtf.
The Sun and the Air [part 3]
KAT-TUN, Akame, PG, 3995 words
In which Pi makes an appearance and a conclusion is reached.
Disclaimer: Ain't mine, nope.
The Sun and the Air
by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
meitachi
three // tashikame you
“There are some things you don’t tell even your best friends, Jin.”
“I—uh. Shit. Sorry, I guess. But, well, what am I supposed to do, Ryo? God, I can’t believe I— Fuck, fuck, fuck. I don’t need this. I don’t want this. I—”
“I don’t know. It sounds to me like you wanted it pretty badly.”
“Ryo!”
“Jin. Do you even know what you’re looking for anymore?”
“I…ye—no. It was—friendship. What we used to have. I thought we’d lost it but then we seemed to find it again, sort of, and then this happens and I don’t know what the hell is going on or what I’m supposed to do or. Just. Fuck. I can’t do this, Ryo. Ueda has been giving me the cold shoulder lately and that’s only because I’m spending more time with Kame now! Can you imagine what would happen if—if— And Koki and the rest of them. I can’t even. Ryo.”
“Ueda is a selfish bastard. What is it you want?”
“Does it even matter what I want? What if I—hypothetically—wanted Kame? There’s no way to say he feels the same. I’d just ruin everything that I spent months fixing and then it’d all just go to hell from there and, oh God, what if Hiro—what if the press—”
“Jin, shut up and breathe.”
“…just—shit.”
“Stop freaking out. You’ll figure out what to do.”
“I— Why aren’t you freaking out?”
“Uchi.”
“Oh—oh yeah. Damn. Sorry. I’m just so—”
“Freaking out? Yes. Stop. Figure out what you want. And then act on it. Don’t let it get to the press. Hell, it’s better if Hiro doesn’t know either. You can worry about the rest of the guys later. Right now, it’s just about you and Kamenashi, okay? You’ll get it.”
“…okay.”
--
The drink was a bright orangey yellow, tangy and sweet as he sucked it up through his straw. Jin glanced across the table and saw Yamapi rotating his own glass of pink lemonade around in his hands, his expression contemplative. The afternoon sunlight slanted through the wide panes of glass around the small drinks shop, falling across their table in the back corner, where the two well-known customers sat secluded and undisturbed. A fan at the front of the shop whirred softly, blowing across the back of Jin’s shirt in regular thirty-second intervals.
“So,” said Yamapi at last, running his fingers along the side of the cold, wet glass, “I hear from Kame that you guys are getting along better.”
With one last loud slurp, Jin removed his mouth from the straw. “Eh, yeah…you could say that.” He had his shifty expression on, avoiding Yamapi’s eyes as he twirled his straw and ice cubes clanked through the mango drink and into the sides of the cup. He pushed one cube along, chasing the others.
“I’ve also talked to Ryo,” said Yamapi.
Jin stopped. He raised his gaze warily to Yamapi’s. “What’d he say?”
“What do you think he said?” Yamapi let his hands drop from the sides of his glass and wiped his wet palms on his jeans. He raised an eyebrow at Jin and crossed his arms, looking a cross between expectant and challenging.
The breeze from the fan ruffled Jin’s shirt again and the ends of his hair tickled against his neck. He groaned. “Stupid Ryo,” he muttered. “Can’t tell him a thing without him blabbing to everyone about it.” He sighed and shifted in his seat, pressing his lips together as he thought. The panic had eased as the days passed, though Jin still couldn’t look Kame in the face without feeling his stomach clench, embarrassment and guilt and confusion running free across his conscience. “I don’t know what I want,” he said softly to Yamapi with a half-shrug. “I—” He stopped.
Yamapi said nothing, his silence prompting Jin to continue, hesitantly.
“I think I want Kame,” he said slowly. “But then there’s—so much more to consider.” He could feel himself tense as he thought again of everything that could go wrong, starting from Kame not wanting to ever speak to him ever again, probably not even stay in the band, and ending somewhere along the lines of a scandal in the media. And his parents, and Reo, and all his friends—Jin shuddered.
Yamapi coughed lightly, not fully disguising his snicker. Jin gave him an annoyed look, which was returned with a wide smirk. “Damn, Jin, you’re easy,” Yamapi told him. “Ryo didn’t tell me anything except that you and Kame were getting along better. Thanks for clarifying, man.”
“Eh—you— Pi!” Jin complained and kicked his friend under the table.
Yamapi winced and moved his leg away. He folded his arms across the tabletop and leaned forward, blond-streaked hair falling over one eye, highlighted further by the sunlight. “If you’re worried about what the world will think, stop.” His voice was low and firm. “That’s definitely not the most important thing.”
Jin opened his mouth to protest.
“Shut up.” The command was accompanied by a quick smile, to ease the sting. “Jin. You have good friends and a great family. No one else matters.”
“But, Kame—”
“Yeah. He’s the only one you should be worried about.” Yamapi leaned back now and was spinning his half-empty glass again. “And he’s brought you up in conversation with me recently more than Ryo’s brought up Uchi. I think you’ve got a chance, Bakanishi. Though clearly Kame can do better than an idiot like you.” He grinned and the atmosphere lightened again.
Jin kicked him again but was thoughtful. “What if…” He trailed off uncertainly and continued to kick Yamapi idly as he thought, twirling his straw.
“Ow,” Yamapi complained and kicked him back.
Jin jerked in his seat and was pulled out of his thoughts. He glared at his friend. “Stop being such a fragile little girl,” he said, making a face, and then the situation degenerated into a five-year-old kicking fight, filled with cries of mock outrage and laughter.
“Seriously, Jin, do something about it,” Yamapi said as he flicked the end of his straw at Jin, covering him with splatters of pink lemonade and chortling at Jin’s expression. “We’ll figure out how to keep him from dumping you for someone more mature later.”
And how to keep the world from knowing, Jin added privately as he threw an ice cube.
--
“So what are your plans regarding a tour? Or will you be too busy in the coming months?”
They were fifteen minutes into the interview before anyone noticed. Jin’s hands had been in his pockets or tapping unheard rhythms on his thighs beneath the table until then. He’d answered a few questions, stumbling occasionally but brushing it away with a sheepish smile that had the female interviewer visibly softening. They were always easy and this one—young, with stylish bangs and wearing a trendy pink shirt with cute English written on it—had never stood much of a chance. Jin knew his charm and he wielded it accordingly.
She’d laughed at his antics with Koki, indulgent and amused, and she had fallen completely when he’d bit his lip and given that half-shy smile with a sideways look under his lashes. At his side, Ueda had smirked, knowing too well how he worked, and Jin had spared a brief moment to be grateful for this instance of normality when Ueda had been too stiff and distant recently. He knew its cause and as much as it twisted his stomach, Jin couldn’t fix it, almost didn’t want to when he weighed the options, and so when he lifted his hand for the pen resting on the table before him and Ueda’s gaze had narrowed and sharpened, Jin didn’t move to hide what had clearly been spotted.
On his right hand, curving snugly around his pinky finger, rested the familiar, silver-bright ring that matched the one Kame wore.
Jin twirled the pen nonchalantly, listening to Kame answer the question confidently.
“We’ll still be performing on Music Station,” he said, the usual smile on his face, oozing sex with no apparent effort, “but, no, we do not have any fixed plans for a tour right now. We’re focusing mostly on getting into the studio and recording.”
“It’s a new experience for us,” Junno added, “and we want to take full advantage of it. Make the most out of it and do the best we can, you know?”
Jin’s pen flew out of his hand, skidding down the table and rolling to a stop before Maru. Eyes turned towards Jin, who made an embarrassed face, and Maru rolled his eyes. He picked up the pen and stretched his arm past Koki, who sat to Jin’s left, to return the pen. His eyes came to a rest on the ring Jin was sporting. His eyebrow rose.
“Of course,” the interviewer said agreeably, reaching forward to adjust the small voice recorder she’d put on the table. “I hear that KAT-TUN is releasing another single soon?”
“Absolutely,” said Kame, and stopped. His eyes widened.
“We’ve already recorded the song,” Koki said, picking up smoothly as he elbowed Jin in the side. Jin gave a silent ‘oof’ and retaliated by poking the pen in Koki’s side. Koki continued speaking, his flow uninterrupted as he enthusiastically detailed their next plans. Jin looked up again to see Kame’s eyes on him. His right hand, more accurately.
Ah. He smiled innocently, feigning obliviousness to the half-questioning, half-accusatory look Kame shot him. There was nothing he could say at the moment, anyway. They didn’t need to draw unnecessary attention. They would need to talk, of course, but later; Jin had planned only to attract a little attention for now. That achieved, he could only bide his time, tell his stomach to stop tying itself into knots, and wait.
He turned slightly in his seat, away from Kame, and twirled the pen again. Ueda watched him with hooded eyes, silent.
Kame spent the rest of the interview sneaking looks at Jin’s hand, but he spoke as much as he usually did and, if he was more distracted and lost his train of thought more frequently than usual, it went unnoticed by their interviewer.
--
They were backstage when Kame confronted him, his eyes flashing and just a little wild. He didn’t even make an effort for privacy, evidently oblivious to the curious eyes and ears that hovered around them, making a pretense of doing work.
A lot of things happen backstage, Jin thought, a little amused, so much that the audience and the cameras missed, never knowing the full story.
“What the hell is going on?” Kame demanded, his hands balled into fists under the long hem of his jacket sleeves. His lips were set tight, angrily, and were still polished slick with the gloss for the cameras. Jin wondered if it would taste sweet. He wondered if it would cling to his own lips, faint, after he drew back from kissing Kame. He wondered if smudging it would cause the gloss to fade.
“Jin!” snapped Kame, and Jin felt a guilty flush creep up his neck. He met Kame’s angry gaze, head ducked slightly.
“What?” he asked in a defensive voice, the set of his mouth slightly sullen. Uncompromising.
Kame reached across the space between them and grabbed Jin’s right hand and around them several people stopped doing whatever it was they were pretending to be busy with and stared, eyes wide, mind racing to recall every detail to recall to reporters later. Jin felt Kame’s fingers close around his, warm and slightly rough, and his breath hitched in his throat when the fingers slid down his palm to circle his wrist. Kame tightened his grip and jerked Jin’s hand to face level, and the pinky ring glinted bright.
“What is this?” Kame asked him tightly, brows drawn over his eyes.
Jin stared blankly at his hand for a few moments. Then he smiled—bright, because he knew what he wanted—and said casually, “It’s a ring. I thought you would have recognized it.” He cocked his head and directed his gaze at the hand wrapped around his wrist. “You’re wearing one, too.”
Kame’s eyes darted to the pinky ring on his own left hand before abruptly dropping Jin’s hand. The bracelets clinked against each other as gravity pulled them back down Jin’s arm. “Jin,” said Kame, his anger draining away. He looked confused.
“It’s a nice ring,” said Jin, still smiling, “I like it a lot.”
“…yeah,” Kame said softly. He looked at his own ring again. “It’s nice.” He slowly edged away and, finally, turned, heading across the room. His expression remained both troubled and thoughtful, mixed emotions warring across his features. Jin watched his back, stubbornly unseeing of the crowd that watched him in turn.
--
It wasn’t until the next day that Jin found himself with enough free time to enact the penultimate part of the haphazard plan he’d come up with. He’d considered, briefly, asking Ryo or Pi for help, but in the end had decided it was honestly none of their business. Or, at least, he amended to himself, not enough of their business that they should tell him what to do. He knew, by now. They’d walked him through the beginning and the middle and now it was the important part—the part Jin had to face on his own.
So that afternoon, Jin tugged on a baseball cap, put on his sunglasses, and made the trip to Kame’s house. The subway was crowded, even two hours from the peak rush hour, and the sun was hot on his back as he stared at the familiar sights. It had been too long since he’d traveled this particular route.
Young children were playing in yards, playgrounds, on the sidewalks, as he walked from the station to Kame’s neighborhood. A middle school girl ran past, clearly skipping class, her shortened skirt flaring behind her and her face painted with make-up she shouldn’t have access to. Jin passed another boy who looked his age, possibly, skinny and smooth-skinned, hands jammed in the pockets of his camo pants, with more eyeliner than he’d seen on the girl. Idly, he wondered if the boy had been a model for one of those trendy, new outfitters that was always on the search for a young face; an exposure to show business would explain his proclivity for eye-makeup. Pi had been wearing it more and more off-cameras now too and it made Jin laugh and tease him a lot.
Kame, too, Jin reflected, but Kame carried it off better than most. The way he dressed and move and spoke, slinking grace and sex appeal, it was like he was always on camera, on stage. He was a true performer and Jin missed the days when they’d both been stupid young boys and nothing more.
A dog barked somewhere and Jin stopped in front of Kame’s gate and pressed the button.
A few moments later, a sweet voice asked, “Yes?” and Jin smiled because he’d missed the woman who’d treated him as her own son.
“Good afternoon, Kamenashi-san,” he greeted her politely. “It’s Akanishi Jin. I’ve come by to see Kazuya.”
“Jin! Sweetie!” Kamenashi-san sounded utterly delighted. “I haven’t seen you in ages! The two of you got all famous and now you don’t even have time to visit?” She tutted and buzzed him in, her voice still sounding as he pulled open the gate. “It’s so strange. You boys didn’t even fight!”
Five minutes later, Jin was holding a soda and a bag of shrimp-flavored chips, being shepherded into Kame’s room. Kame’s mother was all smiles and soft chatter as she asked him to wait for Kame. “He called a few minutes ago and said he was on the way home. Dreadful, the way he doesn’t think to call and tell me earlier that he’ll be home late but, well, boys, you know.” She patted him on the arm. “You are always so polite, Jin. Kazu-chan should learn from you.”
He felt a pang at the words but managed a smile anyway. “Thank you,” he said, bowing slightly. “I’m sorry for my intrusion.”
“Think nothing of it. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything, dear.” She left with the quiet whisper-shuffles of her slippers against the carpet.
Jin looked around Kame’s room, still familiar to him after the months—years?—since he’d last visited. The furniture was the same, mostly, and Kame had acquired a small glass table at some point. Three photo frames sat atop it and 2 CDs that looked like they hadn’t been touched in weeks if not months. Kame had long since abandoned low-tech music CDs for his small, portable mp3 player. Several of them, Jin thought, since Kame had a different one every time Jin saw him. Jin himself only had two.
Backup, he thought cheerfully, setting down his soda and chips on the nightstand as he continued to inspect Kame's room. The bed was made but Jin could tell from the neat job—covers hanging in a neat line over the side—that Kamenashi-san had been the one to do it. A small window over the messy desk let in bright sunlight, and dust motes danced in the sunbeam over the slim computer dominating the pile of papers spread across the desk. Everything had remained predominantly the same as when Jin had last seen it, though new knickknacks joined the old ones marching across the top of the waist-height bookshelf, and new pictures had made their way onto the walls.
Jin carefully skirted an alarmingly slanting stack of Myojo and Potato magazines on the floor and studied the pictures. There was still the one of the Kamenashi family, taken on a trip to Hokkaido when Kame was seven, as well as the picture of a toothily-smiling Kame at age fourteen right before Johnny’s had changed his life entirely. Another picture of Kame with two of his cousins, a girl on either side of him, and Jin chuckled as he remembered teasing his friend about being a pimp. Ironic, considering how easy it was now for Kame to draw girls to him.
Jin saw also a group picture of KAT-TUN, a recent photograph, and one of Kame and his father. He turned and scanned the room for more frames.
“What are you doing here?” Kame asked flatly as he walked in. He looked completely unsurprised to see Jin in his room—but, of course, his mother would have told him.
Jin blinked at him, startled, hair in his eyes before he shook it out. “Where’s the picture you used to have of us?”
“Right there,” said Kame, pointing. Jin looked in the direction he was indicating and found the framed picture of him and Kame slightly hidden behind the larger photograph of Kame and his cousins.
“Oh.” Jin picked up the frame. “We were so young,” he said with a small laugh, and they had been: young and innocent, hopeful and sun-tanned, with wide grins and big dreams. “I like this picture,” he announced at length, lifting his eyes to find Kame standing on the other side of the room, arms crossed. He was frowning, still, his expression a shadow of yesterday’s, troubled and uncertain.
“The way you like the ring?” he asked, his voice sharp with uncertainty.
Jin thought of the doubt still gnawing on his stomach. He thought of Ueda’s drawn, tight expression, and of Hiro’s possible reaction. He thought of what his parents might say, and of all the things that could hurt them, and he thought of the vicious repercussions that could await him. He thought of a bloodthirsty press and losing friends, losing Kame. But then he swallowed and thought of Ryo and Uchi, thought of the way Pi had still laughed and joked with him. He thought of a family that had raised and loved him for twenty-two years. He thought of the ring on Kame’s finger and the gloss on Kame’s lips. He thought of easy friendship and dangerous dips of his stomach, the mad flutter of breath and hope low in his throat, and then he knew he had to try. The last part of his plan.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice soft. “And the way I like you, too.”
He was moving even as Kame digested this, eyes widening, and then Jin was breaths away. He was almost trembling—maybe he was already—and his heartbeat was wild, pulse unsteady. “Kame,” Jin whispered.
Kame said, “I—” and Jin kissed him.
It was a hesitant kiss, soft, and Jin had kissed girls before, but never Kame. The lip gloss was not as sweet as he thought, but a little sticky, and mostly Jin tasted whatever it was that Kame tasted like. His mouth was warm and open and elation jumped in Jin’s stomach because he wasn’t unwilling; Kame was breathing, unsteadily, in the little pauses in their kiss, and he stayed where he was, mouth under Jin’s and nothing else touching.
Jin felt something like a smile curve Kame’s lips and then they weren’t kissing anymore because Kame was chuckling, then laughing, and he leaned his head on Jin’s shoulder, hair tickling Jin’s cheek, as he shook, slightly hysterical. Jin smoothed his hands down Kame’s back, feeling the heat of Kame’s body through the thin, cotton shirt, and smiled, tentatively, not sure why Kame was laughing.
“God,” said Kame as he regained his breath, his cheeks flushed and his eyes bright as he looked up at Jin. “This sucks.” He grinned at the sudden drop of wariness in Jin’s expression. “This is going to kill my reputation.”
“What about mine?” Jin immediately demanded, fear easing as Kame put his head back on Jin’s shoulder.
“Well, everyone already knows you’re an idiot.” He felt Kame’s shrug.
Jin touched his hair with light fingers. “Liking you is not a stupid thing.”
“It’s the stupidest thing you’ve done yet,” Kame disagreed. He closed his eyes and Jin felt the lashes drag delicately through his shirt. He looked down at his best friend, slowly sliding his arms around him. Kame shifted and something clinked and then he sighed and mumbled into Jin’s shoulder, “I guess I’m going to be stupid, too.”
--
Ryo was leaning back in his desk chair this time, spinning occasionally. Jin was on the bed, wearing a stupid smile and looking happy. He swung his feet childishly.
“So you found what you were looking for, I guess.” Ryo flipped his phone open at the buzz and glanced at the screen before flipping it closed again; unimportant. He kicked one of Jin’s legs as they came too close to his chair, sending the limb on a diagonal path that had Jin flinching momentarily. “I remember you saying that it didn’t exist anymore.”
“In a way it didn’t,” said Jin, waving one hand dismissively in the air. “I was looking for the way we used to be. We’re not exactly like that right now.”
Ryo snorted. He rolled his chair back and propped his feet up on his desk, back towards Jin. “No, not quite. And now…” He continued staring blankly in front of him. “I’m happy for you, Akanishi. But now you have to learn how to keep it from the world.” His voice was quiet and steady.
The best thing that’s happened to you, Jin thought in his head, you must learn to hide. He let his legs settle against the side of the bed, still. He thought about his and Kame’s first kiss, two weeks ago. He thought of his and Kame’s kiss, stolen and fast, this morning, accompanied by good-natured ribbing and playful ruffling of hair.
He smiled. “Teach me,” he told Ryo.
--
Started: 06.16.2006 | Finished: 07.09.2006 | Edited: 07.09.2006
NOTES | ima sugu, ima kara, tashikame you – right now, right away, let’s settle this | au like whoa | it was supposed to be 500 words or so long D: | the title makes no sense but that is okay! | reviews appreciated but I may not get a chance to reply to them all because I’m going to china :D | p.s. for0sweet_tart0, an aiba hiroki cameo! ♥ | love to forochel for the impromptu beta post factum
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omake »
The Sun and the Air [part 3]
KAT-TUN, Akame, PG, 3995 words
In which Pi makes an appearance and a conclusion is reached.
Disclaimer: Ain't mine, nope.
The Sun and the Air
by
meitachithree // tashikame you
“There are some things you don’t tell even your best friends, Jin.”
“I—uh. Shit. Sorry, I guess. But, well, what am I supposed to do, Ryo? God, I can’t believe I— Fuck, fuck, fuck. I don’t need this. I don’t want this. I—”
“I don’t know. It sounds to me like you wanted it pretty badly.”
“Ryo!”
“Jin. Do you even know what you’re looking for anymore?”
“I…ye—no. It was—friendship. What we used to have. I thought we’d lost it but then we seemed to find it again, sort of, and then this happens and I don’t know what the hell is going on or what I’m supposed to do or. Just. Fuck. I can’t do this, Ryo. Ueda has been giving me the cold shoulder lately and that’s only because I’m spending more time with Kame now! Can you imagine what would happen if—if— And Koki and the rest of them. I can’t even. Ryo.”
“Ueda is a selfish bastard. What is it you want?”
“Does it even matter what I want? What if I—hypothetically—wanted Kame? There’s no way to say he feels the same. I’d just ruin everything that I spent months fixing and then it’d all just go to hell from there and, oh God, what if Hiro—what if the press—”
“Jin, shut up and breathe.”
“…just—shit.”
“Stop freaking out. You’ll figure out what to do.”
“I— Why aren’t you freaking out?”
“Uchi.”
“Oh—oh yeah. Damn. Sorry. I’m just so—”
“Freaking out? Yes. Stop. Figure out what you want. And then act on it. Don’t let it get to the press. Hell, it’s better if Hiro doesn’t know either. You can worry about the rest of the guys later. Right now, it’s just about you and Kamenashi, okay? You’ll get it.”
“…okay.”
--
The drink was a bright orangey yellow, tangy and sweet as he sucked it up through his straw. Jin glanced across the table and saw Yamapi rotating his own glass of pink lemonade around in his hands, his expression contemplative. The afternoon sunlight slanted through the wide panes of glass around the small drinks shop, falling across their table in the back corner, where the two well-known customers sat secluded and undisturbed. A fan at the front of the shop whirred softly, blowing across the back of Jin’s shirt in regular thirty-second intervals.
“So,” said Yamapi at last, running his fingers along the side of the cold, wet glass, “I hear from Kame that you guys are getting along better.”
With one last loud slurp, Jin removed his mouth from the straw. “Eh, yeah…you could say that.” He had his shifty expression on, avoiding Yamapi’s eyes as he twirled his straw and ice cubes clanked through the mango drink and into the sides of the cup. He pushed one cube along, chasing the others.
“I’ve also talked to Ryo,” said Yamapi.
Jin stopped. He raised his gaze warily to Yamapi’s. “What’d he say?”
“What do you think he said?” Yamapi let his hands drop from the sides of his glass and wiped his wet palms on his jeans. He raised an eyebrow at Jin and crossed his arms, looking a cross between expectant and challenging.
The breeze from the fan ruffled Jin’s shirt again and the ends of his hair tickled against his neck. He groaned. “Stupid Ryo,” he muttered. “Can’t tell him a thing without him blabbing to everyone about it.” He sighed and shifted in his seat, pressing his lips together as he thought. The panic had eased as the days passed, though Jin still couldn’t look Kame in the face without feeling his stomach clench, embarrassment and guilt and confusion running free across his conscience. “I don’t know what I want,” he said softly to Yamapi with a half-shrug. “I—” He stopped.
Yamapi said nothing, his silence prompting Jin to continue, hesitantly.
“I think I want Kame,” he said slowly. “But then there’s—so much more to consider.” He could feel himself tense as he thought again of everything that could go wrong, starting from Kame not wanting to ever speak to him ever again, probably not even stay in the band, and ending somewhere along the lines of a scandal in the media. And his parents, and Reo, and all his friends—Jin shuddered.
Yamapi coughed lightly, not fully disguising his snicker. Jin gave him an annoyed look, which was returned with a wide smirk. “Damn, Jin, you’re easy,” Yamapi told him. “Ryo didn’t tell me anything except that you and Kame were getting along better. Thanks for clarifying, man.”
“Eh—you— Pi!” Jin complained and kicked his friend under the table.
Yamapi winced and moved his leg away. He folded his arms across the tabletop and leaned forward, blond-streaked hair falling over one eye, highlighted further by the sunlight. “If you’re worried about what the world will think, stop.” His voice was low and firm. “That’s definitely not the most important thing.”
Jin opened his mouth to protest.
“Shut up.” The command was accompanied by a quick smile, to ease the sting. “Jin. You have good friends and a great family. No one else matters.”
“But, Kame—”
“Yeah. He’s the only one you should be worried about.” Yamapi leaned back now and was spinning his half-empty glass again. “And he’s brought you up in conversation with me recently more than Ryo’s brought up Uchi. I think you’ve got a chance, Bakanishi. Though clearly Kame can do better than an idiot like you.” He grinned and the atmosphere lightened again.
Jin kicked him again but was thoughtful. “What if…” He trailed off uncertainly and continued to kick Yamapi idly as he thought, twirling his straw.
“Ow,” Yamapi complained and kicked him back.
Jin jerked in his seat and was pulled out of his thoughts. He glared at his friend. “Stop being such a fragile little girl,” he said, making a face, and then the situation degenerated into a five-year-old kicking fight, filled with cries of mock outrage and laughter.
“Seriously, Jin, do something about it,” Yamapi said as he flicked the end of his straw at Jin, covering him with splatters of pink lemonade and chortling at Jin’s expression. “We’ll figure out how to keep him from dumping you for someone more mature later.”
And how to keep the world from knowing, Jin added privately as he threw an ice cube.
--
“So what are your plans regarding a tour? Or will you be too busy in the coming months?”
They were fifteen minutes into the interview before anyone noticed. Jin’s hands had been in his pockets or tapping unheard rhythms on his thighs beneath the table until then. He’d answered a few questions, stumbling occasionally but brushing it away with a sheepish smile that had the female interviewer visibly softening. They were always easy and this one—young, with stylish bangs and wearing a trendy pink shirt with cute English written on it—had never stood much of a chance. Jin knew his charm and he wielded it accordingly.
She’d laughed at his antics with Koki, indulgent and amused, and she had fallen completely when he’d bit his lip and given that half-shy smile with a sideways look under his lashes. At his side, Ueda had smirked, knowing too well how he worked, and Jin had spared a brief moment to be grateful for this instance of normality when Ueda had been too stiff and distant recently. He knew its cause and as much as it twisted his stomach, Jin couldn’t fix it, almost didn’t want to when he weighed the options, and so when he lifted his hand for the pen resting on the table before him and Ueda’s gaze had narrowed and sharpened, Jin didn’t move to hide what had clearly been spotted.
On his right hand, curving snugly around his pinky finger, rested the familiar, silver-bright ring that matched the one Kame wore.
Jin twirled the pen nonchalantly, listening to Kame answer the question confidently.
“We’ll still be performing on Music Station,” he said, the usual smile on his face, oozing sex with no apparent effort, “but, no, we do not have any fixed plans for a tour right now. We’re focusing mostly on getting into the studio and recording.”
“It’s a new experience for us,” Junno added, “and we want to take full advantage of it. Make the most out of it and do the best we can, you know?”
Jin’s pen flew out of his hand, skidding down the table and rolling to a stop before Maru. Eyes turned towards Jin, who made an embarrassed face, and Maru rolled his eyes. He picked up the pen and stretched his arm past Koki, who sat to Jin’s left, to return the pen. His eyes came to a rest on the ring Jin was sporting. His eyebrow rose.
“Of course,” the interviewer said agreeably, reaching forward to adjust the small voice recorder she’d put on the table. “I hear that KAT-TUN is releasing another single soon?”
“Absolutely,” said Kame, and stopped. His eyes widened.
“We’ve already recorded the song,” Koki said, picking up smoothly as he elbowed Jin in the side. Jin gave a silent ‘oof’ and retaliated by poking the pen in Koki’s side. Koki continued speaking, his flow uninterrupted as he enthusiastically detailed their next plans. Jin looked up again to see Kame’s eyes on him. His right hand, more accurately.
Ah. He smiled innocently, feigning obliviousness to the half-questioning, half-accusatory look Kame shot him. There was nothing he could say at the moment, anyway. They didn’t need to draw unnecessary attention. They would need to talk, of course, but later; Jin had planned only to attract a little attention for now. That achieved, he could only bide his time, tell his stomach to stop tying itself into knots, and wait.
He turned slightly in his seat, away from Kame, and twirled the pen again. Ueda watched him with hooded eyes, silent.
Kame spent the rest of the interview sneaking looks at Jin’s hand, but he spoke as much as he usually did and, if he was more distracted and lost his train of thought more frequently than usual, it went unnoticed by their interviewer.
--
They were backstage when Kame confronted him, his eyes flashing and just a little wild. He didn’t even make an effort for privacy, evidently oblivious to the curious eyes and ears that hovered around them, making a pretense of doing work.
A lot of things happen backstage, Jin thought, a little amused, so much that the audience and the cameras missed, never knowing the full story.
“What the hell is going on?” Kame demanded, his hands balled into fists under the long hem of his jacket sleeves. His lips were set tight, angrily, and were still polished slick with the gloss for the cameras. Jin wondered if it would taste sweet. He wondered if it would cling to his own lips, faint, after he drew back from kissing Kame. He wondered if smudging it would cause the gloss to fade.
“Jin!” snapped Kame, and Jin felt a guilty flush creep up his neck. He met Kame’s angry gaze, head ducked slightly.
“What?” he asked in a defensive voice, the set of his mouth slightly sullen. Uncompromising.
Kame reached across the space between them and grabbed Jin’s right hand and around them several people stopped doing whatever it was they were pretending to be busy with and stared, eyes wide, mind racing to recall every detail to recall to reporters later. Jin felt Kame’s fingers close around his, warm and slightly rough, and his breath hitched in his throat when the fingers slid down his palm to circle his wrist. Kame tightened his grip and jerked Jin’s hand to face level, and the pinky ring glinted bright.
“What is this?” Kame asked him tightly, brows drawn over his eyes.
Jin stared blankly at his hand for a few moments. Then he smiled—bright, because he knew what he wanted—and said casually, “It’s a ring. I thought you would have recognized it.” He cocked his head and directed his gaze at the hand wrapped around his wrist. “You’re wearing one, too.”
Kame’s eyes darted to the pinky ring on his own left hand before abruptly dropping Jin’s hand. The bracelets clinked against each other as gravity pulled them back down Jin’s arm. “Jin,” said Kame, his anger draining away. He looked confused.
“It’s a nice ring,” said Jin, still smiling, “I like it a lot.”
“…yeah,” Kame said softly. He looked at his own ring again. “It’s nice.” He slowly edged away and, finally, turned, heading across the room. His expression remained both troubled and thoughtful, mixed emotions warring across his features. Jin watched his back, stubbornly unseeing of the crowd that watched him in turn.
--
It wasn’t until the next day that Jin found himself with enough free time to enact the penultimate part of the haphazard plan he’d come up with. He’d considered, briefly, asking Ryo or Pi for help, but in the end had decided it was honestly none of their business. Or, at least, he amended to himself, not enough of their business that they should tell him what to do. He knew, by now. They’d walked him through the beginning and the middle and now it was the important part—the part Jin had to face on his own.
So that afternoon, Jin tugged on a baseball cap, put on his sunglasses, and made the trip to Kame’s house. The subway was crowded, even two hours from the peak rush hour, and the sun was hot on his back as he stared at the familiar sights. It had been too long since he’d traveled this particular route.
Young children were playing in yards, playgrounds, on the sidewalks, as he walked from the station to Kame’s neighborhood. A middle school girl ran past, clearly skipping class, her shortened skirt flaring behind her and her face painted with make-up she shouldn’t have access to. Jin passed another boy who looked his age, possibly, skinny and smooth-skinned, hands jammed in the pockets of his camo pants, with more eyeliner than he’d seen on the girl. Idly, he wondered if the boy had been a model for one of those trendy, new outfitters that was always on the search for a young face; an exposure to show business would explain his proclivity for eye-makeup. Pi had been wearing it more and more off-cameras now too and it made Jin laugh and tease him a lot.
Kame, too, Jin reflected, but Kame carried it off better than most. The way he dressed and move and spoke, slinking grace and sex appeal, it was like he was always on camera, on stage. He was a true performer and Jin missed the days when they’d both been stupid young boys and nothing more.
A dog barked somewhere and Jin stopped in front of Kame’s gate and pressed the button.
A few moments later, a sweet voice asked, “Yes?” and Jin smiled because he’d missed the woman who’d treated him as her own son.
“Good afternoon, Kamenashi-san,” he greeted her politely. “It’s Akanishi Jin. I’ve come by to see Kazuya.”
“Jin! Sweetie!” Kamenashi-san sounded utterly delighted. “I haven’t seen you in ages! The two of you got all famous and now you don’t even have time to visit?” She tutted and buzzed him in, her voice still sounding as he pulled open the gate. “It’s so strange. You boys didn’t even fight!”
Five minutes later, Jin was holding a soda and a bag of shrimp-flavored chips, being shepherded into Kame’s room. Kame’s mother was all smiles and soft chatter as she asked him to wait for Kame. “He called a few minutes ago and said he was on the way home. Dreadful, the way he doesn’t think to call and tell me earlier that he’ll be home late but, well, boys, you know.” She patted him on the arm. “You are always so polite, Jin. Kazu-chan should learn from you.”
He felt a pang at the words but managed a smile anyway. “Thank you,” he said, bowing slightly. “I’m sorry for my intrusion.”
“Think nothing of it. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything, dear.” She left with the quiet whisper-shuffles of her slippers against the carpet.
Jin looked around Kame’s room, still familiar to him after the months—years?—since he’d last visited. The furniture was the same, mostly, and Kame had acquired a small glass table at some point. Three photo frames sat atop it and 2 CDs that looked like they hadn’t been touched in weeks if not months. Kame had long since abandoned low-tech music CDs for his small, portable mp3 player. Several of them, Jin thought, since Kame had a different one every time Jin saw him. Jin himself only had two.
Backup, he thought cheerfully, setting down his soda and chips on the nightstand as he continued to inspect Kame's room. The bed was made but Jin could tell from the neat job—covers hanging in a neat line over the side—that Kamenashi-san had been the one to do it. A small window over the messy desk let in bright sunlight, and dust motes danced in the sunbeam over the slim computer dominating the pile of papers spread across the desk. Everything had remained predominantly the same as when Jin had last seen it, though new knickknacks joined the old ones marching across the top of the waist-height bookshelf, and new pictures had made their way onto the walls.
Jin carefully skirted an alarmingly slanting stack of Myojo and Potato magazines on the floor and studied the pictures. There was still the one of the Kamenashi family, taken on a trip to Hokkaido when Kame was seven, as well as the picture of a toothily-smiling Kame at age fourteen right before Johnny’s had changed his life entirely. Another picture of Kame with two of his cousins, a girl on either side of him, and Jin chuckled as he remembered teasing his friend about being a pimp. Ironic, considering how easy it was now for Kame to draw girls to him.
Jin saw also a group picture of KAT-TUN, a recent photograph, and one of Kame and his father. He turned and scanned the room for more frames.
“What are you doing here?” Kame asked flatly as he walked in. He looked completely unsurprised to see Jin in his room—but, of course, his mother would have told him.
Jin blinked at him, startled, hair in his eyes before he shook it out. “Where’s the picture you used to have of us?”
“Right there,” said Kame, pointing. Jin looked in the direction he was indicating and found the framed picture of him and Kame slightly hidden behind the larger photograph of Kame and his cousins.
“Oh.” Jin picked up the frame. “We were so young,” he said with a small laugh, and they had been: young and innocent, hopeful and sun-tanned, with wide grins and big dreams. “I like this picture,” he announced at length, lifting his eyes to find Kame standing on the other side of the room, arms crossed. He was frowning, still, his expression a shadow of yesterday’s, troubled and uncertain.
“The way you like the ring?” he asked, his voice sharp with uncertainty.
Jin thought of the doubt still gnawing on his stomach. He thought of Ueda’s drawn, tight expression, and of Hiro’s possible reaction. He thought of what his parents might say, and of all the things that could hurt them, and he thought of the vicious repercussions that could await him. He thought of a bloodthirsty press and losing friends, losing Kame. But then he swallowed and thought of Ryo and Uchi, thought of the way Pi had still laughed and joked with him. He thought of a family that had raised and loved him for twenty-two years. He thought of the ring on Kame’s finger and the gloss on Kame’s lips. He thought of easy friendship and dangerous dips of his stomach, the mad flutter of breath and hope low in his throat, and then he knew he had to try. The last part of his plan.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice soft. “And the way I like you, too.”
He was moving even as Kame digested this, eyes widening, and then Jin was breaths away. He was almost trembling—maybe he was already—and his heartbeat was wild, pulse unsteady. “Kame,” Jin whispered.
Kame said, “I—” and Jin kissed him.
It was a hesitant kiss, soft, and Jin had kissed girls before, but never Kame. The lip gloss was not as sweet as he thought, but a little sticky, and mostly Jin tasted whatever it was that Kame tasted like. His mouth was warm and open and elation jumped in Jin’s stomach because he wasn’t unwilling; Kame was breathing, unsteadily, in the little pauses in their kiss, and he stayed where he was, mouth under Jin’s and nothing else touching.
Jin felt something like a smile curve Kame’s lips and then they weren’t kissing anymore because Kame was chuckling, then laughing, and he leaned his head on Jin’s shoulder, hair tickling Jin’s cheek, as he shook, slightly hysterical. Jin smoothed his hands down Kame’s back, feeling the heat of Kame’s body through the thin, cotton shirt, and smiled, tentatively, not sure why Kame was laughing.
“God,” said Kame as he regained his breath, his cheeks flushed and his eyes bright as he looked up at Jin. “This sucks.” He grinned at the sudden drop of wariness in Jin’s expression. “This is going to kill my reputation.”
“What about mine?” Jin immediately demanded, fear easing as Kame put his head back on Jin’s shoulder.
“Well, everyone already knows you’re an idiot.” He felt Kame’s shrug.
Jin touched his hair with light fingers. “Liking you is not a stupid thing.”
“It’s the stupidest thing you’ve done yet,” Kame disagreed. He closed his eyes and Jin felt the lashes drag delicately through his shirt. He looked down at his best friend, slowly sliding his arms around him. Kame shifted and something clinked and then he sighed and mumbled into Jin’s shoulder, “I guess I’m going to be stupid, too.”
--
Ryo was leaning back in his desk chair this time, spinning occasionally. Jin was on the bed, wearing a stupid smile and looking happy. He swung his feet childishly.
“So you found what you were looking for, I guess.” Ryo flipped his phone open at the buzz and glanced at the screen before flipping it closed again; unimportant. He kicked one of Jin’s legs as they came too close to his chair, sending the limb on a diagonal path that had Jin flinching momentarily. “I remember you saying that it didn’t exist anymore.”
“In a way it didn’t,” said Jin, waving one hand dismissively in the air. “I was looking for the way we used to be. We’re not exactly like that right now.”
Ryo snorted. He rolled his chair back and propped his feet up on his desk, back towards Jin. “No, not quite. And now…” He continued staring blankly in front of him. “I’m happy for you, Akanishi. But now you have to learn how to keep it from the world.” His voice was quiet and steady.
The best thing that’s happened to you, Jin thought in his head, you must learn to hide. He let his legs settle against the side of the bed, still. He thought about his and Kame’s first kiss, two weeks ago. He thought of his and Kame’s kiss, stolen and fast, this morning, accompanied by good-natured ribbing and playful ruffling of hair.
He smiled. “Teach me,” he told Ryo.
--
Started: 06.16.2006 | Finished: 07.09.2006 | Edited: 07.09.2006
NOTES | ima sugu, ima kara, tashikame you – right now, right away, let’s settle this | au like whoa | it was supposed to be 500 words or so long D: | the title makes no sense but that is okay! | reviews appreciated but I may not get a chance to reply to them all because I’m going to china :D | p.s. for
0sweet_tart0, an aiba hiroki cameo! ♥ | love to forochel for the impromptu beta post factum« part 1 « part 2
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