(one-shot) I love you - because I love you
Title: I love you (because I love you)
Author: mustenentwined3
Pairing: Akame
Genre: Romance, friendship, a bit of angst.
Rating: PG
Summary: Sometimes, he hates Jin. Sometimes (all the time), he loves Jin.
A/N: I am entirely not surprised that my muses have come back as soon as I fall sick. My muses just love me so much :/ it feels good to write Akame again; I feel like I haven't written real Akame in forever. This is for aijin_jin_17 at her request. Sorry if I went a bit off the prompt, Estelle, but I hope you like it anyway :) enjoy! Comments are, as always, extremely, extremely appreciated :3
Sometimes, he hates Jin. He hates the bored look, the incessantly messy hair, the sarcastic comments picked up from Nishikido. He hates that when he looks at Jin, all he can see is the blinding sunshine of childhood, the shrill laughter of being teenagers, the dreams that never were, never became real dreams - just flitting, ponderous thoughts in the midst of scrawny figures and awkward limbs and sagging T-shirts, the salty taste of ocean air and press of sand against his back.
He hates it when he finds Jin standing out in the courtyard, neck curved upwards towards the bright blue sky, cigarette dangling between his fingertips, legs curled up in the only tiny piece of grass in the middle of the chaotic city. He hates it when he feels like he has to bend down too, and silently take the cigarette from Jin’s fingers, and take a long, fulfilling drag while he pretends that they are not indirectly kissing.
He also hates it when Jin doesn’t let go as he tries to hand it back, when Jin pulls him down to plop beside him on the grass, with the sunlight in their eyes and unspoken heartbreak between them - a borderline, a fault, an earthquake of friendship. They sit there for hours on end when in fact, they should be rehearsing, slipping up repetitive dance steps between white washed walls and polished wooden floors. They should be practicing, Kame thinks, practicing being a celebrity - something he never gets used to - practicing smiling when it’s not funny, crying when it’s not sad, and everything in between.
“Should go back,” Jin always says, finally, after an elapsed amount of time - and Kame always nods, slowly, but he doesn’t move. He doesn’t move because he hates that Jin thinks he can manipulate him (which he can, but that’s not the point, not at all) into doing whatever he thinks should be done. He hates that he has to make Jin repeat it every single time before reluctantly standing up and brushing off his jeans.
In another lifetime, Kame thinks, he and Jin would have met at a dance class. They would be old, tired, happy men, Kame a retired baseball player with a small condo wedged in the outskirts of the city, Jin a legendary rock star. They’d meet at dance class every Wednesday and Saturday at eight in the morning, a hobby away from their usual life, their normality.
In another lifetime, they would sit together, as friends, on the rickety swing of Jin’s crooked, sturdy porch, and talk about the weather, and kids these days, and dancing, and singing, and turtles and food and life. In another lifetime, Jin wouldn’t smoke, and neither would Kame, and they would sit, healthily, together, and they wouldn’t mind placing a hand on the other’s thigh affectionately, sharing drinks late into the night and chuckling over memories of childhood.
In this lifetime, Kame steps towards the door, and into the air-conditioned hallway, and greets a passing staff member with his celebrity smile. In this lifetime, he almost jumps back when Jin moves forward to hold the door open behind him and their fingers brush against each other, a forbidden electric shock.
In this lifetime, he hates Jin, hates that he loves Jin, and will never be able to turn back.
---
Sometimes (all the time), he loves Jin. He loves that Jin can make people smile without even having to smile himself, that Jin can be so Jin and get away with it no matter what. He loves that he’s known Jin - this super-popular star of their agency - for longer than they both want to admit, that he can spurt out random facts about Jin if needed, like what he looks like when he’s in his depressed, messy, un-public state, what he wears at home right after taking a shower, what food he eats every time right before he sees his family.
He loves that he can keep a certain distance away from Jin and still feel connected - whether that be good or bad, that he doesn’t have to be touching Jin, physically, in order feel close (too close). He loves that he is able to not see Jin for six months, six months of chaotic, sleepless work and significant changes - that Jin can return, with a certain amount of newfound snark, a certain amount of vodka in his blood, and that Kame can still guess what he’s thinking, how he’s feeling.
He loves that when Jin is feeling at his lowest, it always ends up being Kame’s apartment he goes to, even if it’s two thirty-six in the morning and three point five degrees below freezing outside, plus the fact that they have three photo shoots and two interviews tomorrow (today). He loves that he doesn’t have to get up when he hears Jin entering with the extra key Kame has hidden in a crack beneath his doorway, that he can feel Jin’s presence entering, the shoes being slipped off, the cold body sliding beneath the covers to press against his.
“I hate my life,” Jin muffles into the back of his shoulder blade, sounding for all the world like an over-dramatic teenager still going through puberty, wavy hair cascading down to tickle the small patch of Kame’s bare skin.
“Then get a new one,” Kame answers just as solemnly, and feels the tremble of Jin’s inner laugh - even if it doesn’t come out, not out loud. He loves that he can feel it - Jin’s laugh, like the rays of the sun soaking into the fabric of his clothing, invisible, there, something he wants to grasp and lock up and shelve into a corner of his brain forever. He keeps his eyes closed, and waits, waits for the steady rise and fall of Jin’s chest against his back, the telltale deep breaths.
In another lifetime, Kame thinks, he and Jin would have never met. Perhaps they would take the same subway every other week - Kame to visit his grandmother, Jin his girlfriend. They would never notice each other; Jin the silent, sunglasses and hat presence forever fiddling with his iPod, Kame the semi-formal student flipping through some business magazine - two definitions of stereotype, on opposite ends of the subway, on opposite ends of the world.
In another lifetime, they would occasionally glance up at the other’s presence to be met with ignorance, or a glare, or nothing. In another lifetime, Jin would be the kind of person Kame avoided like the plague - the much too laid-back, outgoing, spontaneous person, the kind Kame looked down upon because of his antics. And Kame, Kame would be the stiff, polite person that Jin enjoyed laughing at, mouth twisted into a sarcastic smile, hood shadowing the fringe of his eyebrows.
In this lifetime, Kame awakens to the soft morning light seeping through his curtains, the crackle of a post-it note on the edge of his pillow. Thank you, it says, in scribbled handwriting. There’s a tiny, tiny, fragile little heart drawn in the corner, one so small Kame almost wants to ask himself if he’s hallucinating. It is a heart, from Jin, a heart inside all the heartbreak that makes Kame smile in spite of himself.
In this lifetime, he loves Jin, he loves that he hates (and loves) Jin, and in the end, he doesn’t want to turn back.
note: and because I can: akame_aday akame_aday akame_aday akame_aday akame_aday akame_aday akame_aday
Author: mustenentwined3
Pairing: Akame
Genre: Romance, friendship, a bit of angst.
Rating: PG
Summary: Sometimes, he hates Jin. Sometimes (all the time), he loves Jin.
A/N: I am entirely not surprised that my muses have come back as soon as I fall sick. My muses just love me so much :/ it feels good to write Akame again; I feel like I haven't written real Akame in forever. This is for aijin_jin_17 at her request. Sorry if I went a bit off the prompt, Estelle, but I hope you like it anyway :) enjoy! Comments are, as always, extremely, extremely appreciated :3
Sometimes, he hates Jin. He hates the bored look, the incessantly messy hair, the sarcastic comments picked up from Nishikido. He hates that when he looks at Jin, all he can see is the blinding sunshine of childhood, the shrill laughter of being teenagers, the dreams that never were, never became real dreams - just flitting, ponderous thoughts in the midst of scrawny figures and awkward limbs and sagging T-shirts, the salty taste of ocean air and press of sand against his back.
He hates it when he finds Jin standing out in the courtyard, neck curved upwards towards the bright blue sky, cigarette dangling between his fingertips, legs curled up in the only tiny piece of grass in the middle of the chaotic city. He hates it when he feels like he has to bend down too, and silently take the cigarette from Jin’s fingers, and take a long, fulfilling drag while he pretends that they are not indirectly kissing.
He also hates it when Jin doesn’t let go as he tries to hand it back, when Jin pulls him down to plop beside him on the grass, with the sunlight in their eyes and unspoken heartbreak between them - a borderline, a fault, an earthquake of friendship. They sit there for hours on end when in fact, they should be rehearsing, slipping up repetitive dance steps between white washed walls and polished wooden floors. They should be practicing, Kame thinks, practicing being a celebrity - something he never gets used to - practicing smiling when it’s not funny, crying when it’s not sad, and everything in between.
“Should go back,” Jin always says, finally, after an elapsed amount of time - and Kame always nods, slowly, but he doesn’t move. He doesn’t move because he hates that Jin thinks he can manipulate him (which he can, but that’s not the point, not at all) into doing whatever he thinks should be done. He hates that he has to make Jin repeat it every single time before reluctantly standing up and brushing off his jeans.
In another lifetime, Kame thinks, he and Jin would have met at a dance class. They would be old, tired, happy men, Kame a retired baseball player with a small condo wedged in the outskirts of the city, Jin a legendary rock star. They’d meet at dance class every Wednesday and Saturday at eight in the morning, a hobby away from their usual life, their normality.
In another lifetime, they would sit together, as friends, on the rickety swing of Jin’s crooked, sturdy porch, and talk about the weather, and kids these days, and dancing, and singing, and turtles and food and life. In another lifetime, Jin wouldn’t smoke, and neither would Kame, and they would sit, healthily, together, and they wouldn’t mind placing a hand on the other’s thigh affectionately, sharing drinks late into the night and chuckling over memories of childhood.
In this lifetime, Kame steps towards the door, and into the air-conditioned hallway, and greets a passing staff member with his celebrity smile. In this lifetime, he almost jumps back when Jin moves forward to hold the door open behind him and their fingers brush against each other, a forbidden electric shock.
In this lifetime, he hates Jin, hates that he loves Jin, and will never be able to turn back.
---
Sometimes (all the time), he loves Jin. He loves that Jin can make people smile without even having to smile himself, that Jin can be so Jin and get away with it no matter what. He loves that he’s known Jin - this super-popular star of their agency - for longer than they both want to admit, that he can spurt out random facts about Jin if needed, like what he looks like when he’s in his depressed, messy, un-public state, what he wears at home right after taking a shower, what food he eats every time right before he sees his family.
He loves that he can keep a certain distance away from Jin and still feel connected - whether that be good or bad, that he doesn’t have to be touching Jin, physically, in order feel close (too close). He loves that he is able to not see Jin for six months, six months of chaotic, sleepless work and significant changes - that Jin can return, with a certain amount of newfound snark, a certain amount of vodka in his blood, and that Kame can still guess what he’s thinking, how he’s feeling.
He loves that when Jin is feeling at his lowest, it always ends up being Kame’s apartment he goes to, even if it’s two thirty-six in the morning and three point five degrees below freezing outside, plus the fact that they have three photo shoots and two interviews tomorrow (today). He loves that he doesn’t have to get up when he hears Jin entering with the extra key Kame has hidden in a crack beneath his doorway, that he can feel Jin’s presence entering, the shoes being slipped off, the cold body sliding beneath the covers to press against his.
“I hate my life,” Jin muffles into the back of his shoulder blade, sounding for all the world like an over-dramatic teenager still going through puberty, wavy hair cascading down to tickle the small patch of Kame’s bare skin.
“Then get a new one,” Kame answers just as solemnly, and feels the tremble of Jin’s inner laugh - even if it doesn’t come out, not out loud. He loves that he can feel it - Jin’s laugh, like the rays of the sun soaking into the fabric of his clothing, invisible, there, something he wants to grasp and lock up and shelve into a corner of his brain forever. He keeps his eyes closed, and waits, waits for the steady rise and fall of Jin’s chest against his back, the telltale deep breaths.
In another lifetime, Kame thinks, he and Jin would have never met. Perhaps they would take the same subway every other week - Kame to visit his grandmother, Jin his girlfriend. They would never notice each other; Jin the silent, sunglasses and hat presence forever fiddling with his iPod, Kame the semi-formal student flipping through some business magazine - two definitions of stereotype, on opposite ends of the subway, on opposite ends of the world.
In another lifetime, they would occasionally glance up at the other’s presence to be met with ignorance, or a glare, or nothing. In another lifetime, Jin would be the kind of person Kame avoided like the plague - the much too laid-back, outgoing, spontaneous person, the kind Kame looked down upon because of his antics. And Kame, Kame would be the stiff, polite person that Jin enjoyed laughing at, mouth twisted into a sarcastic smile, hood shadowing the fringe of his eyebrows.
In this lifetime, Kame awakens to the soft morning light seeping through his curtains, the crackle of a post-it note on the edge of his pillow. Thank you, it says, in scribbled handwriting. There’s a tiny, tiny, fragile little heart drawn in the corner, one so small Kame almost wants to ask himself if he’s hallucinating. It is a heart, from Jin, a heart inside all the heartbreak that makes Kame smile in spite of himself.
In this lifetime, he loves Jin, he loves that he hates (and loves) Jin, and in the end, he doesn’t want to turn back.
note: and because I can: akame_aday akame_aday akame_aday akame_aday akame_aday akame_aday akame_aday