Title: You've made it now
Author:
fingeredheart [previously
mustenentwined3]
Pairing(s): Akame [main]; Pin [friendship]; KoKame [friendship], very little Jin x OC and Kame x OC
Genre: Romance, angst, friendship, AU
Rating: PG
Disclaimer(s): I own nothing.
Summary: Based off of
this movie, though I changed around a few things.
A/N: Written in a day, because I've done barely anything else except write, write, write, proofread, and write. I hope it was of good use, because I can't stand looking at this fic for a minute longer. :l but please enjoy! Comments are very, very much appreciated. ♥ Also, italicized lyrics in parentheses are from
Falling Slowly by Glen Hansard.
The roads are full of bustle, cars whizzing past, lights and sounds scattered across the expanse of the city streets. People rush in and out of large department stores, arms heavy with huge, filled-up shopping bags, a blur of hats and coats to prevail against the cold wind of winter. A plastic Santa sways unsteadily in a storefront, Jingle Bells echoing from the distant end of the block, laughter piercing the air.
Jin slips into one of the various department stores, cupping his hands and blowing on them for excess warmth. There are displays of all kinds surrounding him, circles of lights overhead reflecting off the smooth glass surfaces. A little girl skids by him on flats, her laughter bright and cheeks rosy as a man comes up behind her, scooping her up in his arms and planting a kiss on her nose. She giggles, her eyes catching Jin’s as she gives him a little wave. The man turns as well, eyes lighting up when he catches sight of Jin, immediately setting down the girl and towing her through the crowd back towards his direction.
“Hey there, Princess,” Jin crouches down as soon as they approach, meeting the girl for eye level as he raises her hand to his lips. The smile on her face widens to reveal a new, unfamiliar gap in between two of her upper teeth. “Wow, that’s some gap you’ve got there.”
“I lost a tooth!” She exclaims, eyes shining in wait for his approval. With a laugh, he reaches over to ruffle her hair beneath her winter cap, and raises a palm.
“You’re awesome. High-five.” Eagerly, she jumps up to comply, only to fall forward with a yelp when Jin pulls his hands away the next instant. She ends up directly in Jin’s arms, and he chuckles, pulls her up to twirl her around and back to where her father is watching them, wholly amused. Jin grins back at him. “Merry Christmas, Pi.”
“Merry Christmas, Bakanishi,” Yamapi replies, hoisting his daughter back up into his arms and letting her sit, legs wrapped around his waist. “Can’t quite believe you’re here.”
“Why, because I’m anti-social and depressed and in complete envy of your perfect life?” Jin smiles softly when Yamapi lets out a short laugh, whispers at the girl in his arms to go look for her mother. He watches her skip away down the aisle to where her mother’s figure is standing beside a collection of ornaments, hair cascading gracefully to brush against her scarf.
Turning back to his best friend, Yamapi leans against the counter nearby, drums his fingers against the surface. “So,” he says, and is startled by a loud rapping beside where his elbow rests, glancing back to see a store clerk frowning at him disapprovingly and pointing to a sign that reads PLEASE DO NOT LEAN ON DISPLAY CASES. Holding up his arms in quiet surrender, Yamapi returns his attention back to Jin to find the other man quirking an amused eyebrow at him.
“Always making trouble,” Jin remarks. “Can’t fathom what Maki sees in you.”
“Your loss,” playfully, Yamapi waves a few fingers in the space between the display case and Jin’s face, diverting his friend’s attention from the sparkle of jewelry baking beneath the lights. “Are you buying a present for somebody?”
Jin mulls over this thought for a moment, bites his lip. “Perhaps,” he muses, runs a tongue along his top lip in concentration as he moves closer to peer at a bracelet. “Not that it’s any of your concern, busybody.”
“Ooh, tell me,” Yamapi shoves him, slinging an arm to wrap around his shoulder. “All the juicy little details. Is she hot? Long legs? Long or short hair?”
With a snort, Jin flicks his hair in Yamapi’s face, untangling himself from the arm. “So shallow, man,” he tilts his head a little, asks the clerk to take out a silver necklace so he can get a better look at it.
Yamapi pouts, stepping forward to block Jin’s path when he moves towards the counter. Crossing his arms indignantly, Yamapi leans all up in his friend’s face, eyes determined. “Says the last person on Earth who would risk being deep and sentimental.”
“Oh come on, Pi,” Jin pushes effortlessly at Yamapi’s chest, rolling his eyes. “Give me some credit. People can change.”
“Uh-huh,” unbelieving, Yamapi relents his place, moving aside to let Jin walk around to the counter. Still persistent, he follows on his best friend’s heels, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the counter and twist to look into Jin’s face. “She must be really good if she’s making you say stuff like that.”
“Yamapi,” with a wary look, Jin pushes his friend off the counter, offering a grim smile towards the discontented store clerk. “There is no she, okay. I just thought…I’ve just been thinking.”
“That’s funny,” Yamapi gives a small laugh to emphasize the point, but his face falls a second later, lips drawing into a tight line. “Jin, do you have a fever?”
“Goddammit, Pi - ”
“Excuse me?” The voice is male, slightly nasal, low and raw. They both turn to see another Japanese man standing beside the counter, hair just above shoulder-length, dyed a mild brown. He’s wearing a casual white T-shirt, worn tan jacket thrown over, jeans clinging to his hips and ripped at the bottom edges. The contours of his face are elegant, curved in a delicate, almost girly manner, eyes a dark brown - light for an Asian’s, but dark enough. Jin doesn’t even realize he’s staring until Yamapi nudges him in the ribs, and he turns to see the stranger’s lips lifting into a tiny smile.
“Are you buying this necklace?” The man nods towards the necklace the store clerk has lain out on the counter, glinting beneath the lights overhead. Jin blinks at it, opening his mouth to work around the sudden clogging of words in his throat.
“Well, I mean, I was just - ”
“Yes, he was,” Yamapi interrupts confidently, shooting Jin a sideways glance as he does so. “Sorry.”
The man’s expression falls a little, but he immediately returns to a neutral composure, smile hinting at his lips. “It’s okay,” he answers. “I just thought it was nice. Good choice,” his gaze flicks back to Jin, nodding once before he starts to move away towards another row of display cases.
“No - wait!” It comes out louder than he expected, and Jin can feel even Yamapi’s surprised eyes on him, the blood rushing up to his cheeks when a few shoppers nearby turn to look at the disturbance. The man walking away turns as well, eyes curious, a few strands of hair involuntarily falling across his face. He pulls them back as he returns to the counter, gaze focusing on Jin, who is still staring at him strangely. “Um.” Apologetically, Jin glances at Yamapi for a bit of help, but his best friend just shrugs, responding with only a weird glare and a quizzical brow.
Jin takes a breath as he turns back, pulling out his best smile onto his face. “You can have it,” he says, and looks directly into the stranger’s eyes, watches the register of emotion. “I don’t want it.”
The other man absorbs for this for a second, forehead creasing in the middle in thought. “You do want it,” he says slowly, and smiles a little at Jin’s expression. “It’s okay. Really. I’m sure I can find something else.”
“No, I insist,” Jin slides the necklace over to him. “It wasn’t for me anyway.” He averts his gaze, lowering his hands to hook his fingers into the pocket of his jeans.
Without touching the offered necklace, the other man’s smile widens. “Ah. Girlfriend?”
Yamapi’s eyes are burning holes in the back of his head, Jin can already tell. “Yeah,” he lies through his teeth, quirks his lips in the effort to return a casual smile.
“I was actually looking for something for mine, too,” the other man comments, making Jin look up. “I thought this would have looked nice on her, so.”
“Oh,” nodding, Jin motions towards it. “Yeah, so um. You have it.”
The man shakes his head. “But I couldn’t. If it was for your girlfriend - I couldn’t.”
There’s a loud sigh from behind Jin, and they turn to see Yamapi tilting his head at them, smile sarcastic and eyes twinkling in amusement. “You know,” he says in English, meeting Jin’s gaze. “You could both just buy something else.” He turns his gaze on the store clerk, who takes the hint warily, eyeing him with distaste before producing two identical rings from a nearby cabinet, her teeth bright with a smile.
“How about these? They’re made by the same company.”
One ring slides down the counter to each of them, and Jin catches his, holding it up with two fingers against the light. “It’s gorgeous,” he whispers, more to himself than anybody, and brings the ring back down to eye-level, where the other man is examining his own. “Really gorgeous.”
“Jin!” A female voice interrupts his reverie, and he spins around to see Maki walking, her daughter’s hand grasped tightly in her own, hair wild from the wind blowing through the entrance, eyes cheerful. “How nice to see you,” she beams, stopping beside Yamapi to let him slide an arm around her waist.
“You too, Maki,” he nods, smiles back in all equal cheerfulness, but is momentarily distracted when out of the corner of his eye, he catches sight of the other man paying the clerk for the ring, a small velvety black case that is dropped into a plastic bag. Maki mentions something about a party at their apartment next week and how Jin is always welcome, and he nods, continues to smile absently, his eyes following the stranger’s figure as it begins to vanish into the crowd. He turns back to Maki, plastering another large smile on his face. “Um, sorry, excuse me for a moment,” he says, wriggles his fingers in a wave at the little girl at Maki’s side, his feet already taking him farther away, in the direction of the disappearing stranger. “And I would love to come,” he throws over his shoulder, along with another smile.
The other man is already near the entrance, head bobbing up and down in the midst of colored holiday lights and jumbo candy canes. Jin manages to crash into a few people, barely missing an old lady pushing her cart down along the display rack. He mutters a few apologies, continuing to weave his way forcefully through the mass of people, his feet landing on the cement of the sidewalk, cold air biting at his face.
Somehow, he has lost sight of the stranger, and he raises himself up on his tip-toes, eyes searching the hustle of passerby across the street, the taxi cabs with rolled-up windows slowly crawling past the stores, but the man is nowhere to be found. With a sigh, Jin reluctantly moves backward to let a group of small children run past, faces merry as they stumble along, hand-in-hand, one of their mothers at the head of the group and ordering them to stick together. He moves back until his backside collides with the glass panel of the doorway, and he sinks down onto the ground, opening his hands and eyes widening when he realizes the ring is still inside his palm, round shape engraved in a red line on his skin.
He stands up abruptly, pocketing the ring and blending in with the new income of shoppers migrating into the store, his feet bound directly for the counter he had just left. As he is about to push through the crowd again, a hand grabs onto his wrist, and he is being dragged back outside, only able to follow blindly.
When he reaches the sidewalk, the stranger in front of him whips around, and he is shocked to see the same man from just a few minutes before, lips curved upwards into a pleasant smile. “Hi,” he says, and Jin can’t help but smile back, his heart thudding a bit desperately inside his chest.
“Hey.” He can feel the edge of the ring in his pocket, the circle pressed against the thin fabric. “Can you - can you just wait here a moment? I need to take care of something.”
“I already paid for it.”
“You what?” Bringing his hand out of his pocket, Jin rubs the back of his neck, fishing out his wallet from his the confines of his jacket. “Thanks, but.” He flips through the sparse amount of bills in his wallet, frowns a little. “How much was it?”
The other man laughs, a short, warm laugh. “No need,” he says, reaches forward to close Jin’s wallet and push it back against his chest. “I don’t want you to pay me back. Tell your girlfriend it’s a special gift.”
“Girl - ” Jin halts, recalling the small white lie he’d told earlier back in the department store. “Right.” He smiles awkwardly, tilts his head to look away. The dim, cozy light of a café is looking back at him, and he is struck with a sudden notion, his hand freezing in the movement of putting away his wallet. “So you won’t let me pay you back…” he brings his gaze back up to the other’s, hesitantly. “But will you let me treat you to some coffee?”
There’s a moment of silence as the other contemplates this, his eyes flickering away from Jin’s and back. “Sure,” he says finally. “Why not.”
---
A comfortable R & B song is playing in the café, tiled flooring and smooth marble tables bright in contrast to the dusky evening sky outside. Jin orders his coffee black, settling down at a table as he watches the backside of the other man fiddling with sugar and milk.
He sets down his cup with a smile, shrugging off his jacket to let it rest on the back of his chair.
“I don’t know your name,” Jin remarks, blowing ripples across the surface of his coffee in an attempt to make it nonchalant. He glances up to see the other’s smile soften at the corners, hair tumbling in graceful strands down his forehead.
“I don’t think I should tell you,” he replies quietly, and Jin raises an eyebrow, feels the disappointment start to sink inside his chest. “I’m a big believer in fate,” the man laughs, sets down his coffee. “It sounds stupid, I know. But I think everything happens for a reason.”
“So…you won’t tell me,” Jin concludes, purses his lips in thought. “For a reason.”
Tilting his head, the man arches an eyebrow. “Well,” he muses. “If we’re meant to see each other again, we will.”
For a long moment, Jin stares at him, watches the light cast shadows on his feminine features. “You really believe that,” he says quietly, continues to stare when the stranger looks up at him, eyes smiling.
“Yes,” he answers. “I do.” Standing up, the man nods to Jin with a slight grin, coffee held in one hand. “So I’ll see you when I see you.” He pushes the chair back in towards the table with his hip, fingers wrapped tightly around the cup in order to keep it balanced. Still in utter surprise, Jin watches him walk to the door before downing the rest of his coffee, wincing at the scalding liquid as it washes down his throat.
“Hey!” The man’s figure is at the end of the sidewalk by the time he rushes out, hand waving in midair to call a taxi. “Wait, you!” The other looks back at him, confused. Jin runs toward him, hair flying back behind in the freezing wind, reaching him in record time. Breathing heavy, Jin places his hands on his knees to regain his breath, watching as the other man temporarily lowers his hand in silence.
“What if - what if we never see each other again?” Jin’s voice is laced with desperation, eyes unreadable. “Won’t you regret it?”
The other’s eyes sparkle. “If we’re meant to, we will,” he says simply. “I believe that.” He raises his hand again, and a taxi screeches to a stop in front of him, the passenger seat window rolling down to reveal a friendly-faced old man in the driver’s seat.
“One of you needs a ride?”
“I do, thank you,” the man replies in almost perfect English, and Jin watches, astonished as he climbs into the car. “Good night,” he says to Jin, reverting back to Japanese, and is just about to tell the driver a destination when Jin touches a hand to his through the window in interruption.
“My name’s Jin,” he says, pauses. “Nice meeting you.”
“Nice meeting you too, Jin,” the other man smiles fondly, and then lets Jin back away before he rolls up the window, the car engine revving up. Jin steps back onto the sidewalk, his eyes never leaving the yellow vehicle as it whooshes away, vanishing into the traffic of the next block.
Sighing, he digs a hand into his pocket, fingers curling against the fabric when he realizes with a start that something is missing. His ring is gone, the familiar metal circle nowhere in his grasp. He spins on his heel to look back at the café, lights dim and faraway at the other end of the block, lips turning down into a frown.
---
By the time he reaches the café, it is almost closing time, and he wonders how the street didn’t seem so long previously. He nods at the teenagers tidying up the counter, maneuvering his way around the various empty tables to the one they’d been sitting at earlier. When he reaches it, he drops down onto his knees, placing his palms on the cold tiled floor as he searches the ground for something shiny.
Just as he is about to give up the search, he feels a brush of fabric near his head that he hadn’t noticed before. Curiously, he fingers it, his heartbeat speeding up beneath his fingertips when he realizes it’s a jacket, left forlornly on the chair opposite from where he was sitting. In his excitement, he scrambles to get up, only to crash his head against the sharp edge of the table with a quiet exclamation of pain.
He stares at the jacket for what feels like an eternity, the worn fabric still warm in his hands, familiar and yet still so unfamiliar. Uncertainly, he brushes away the crumbs on the table with a sleeve, laying out the jacket to fold it properly.
“Is this yours, sir?” A young teenage girl, still wearing her apron, is holding out her palm, and Jin notes something glinting on it. He blinks, reaching forward to touch the ring he’d been looking for, and smiles thankfully.
“Yes, thank you,” he says in slightly accented English, and slips the ring onto his finger so as to not lose it again. The door takes this opportunity to open, bells jingling with the entrance. Jin looks up at the doorway, inhaling sharply when he recognizes the figure.
The man notices him at the same moment, giving him an unsure, pleased smile, and Jin can’t help but find himself returning it. Clearing his throat, he takes the neatly folded jacket from the tabletop, offering it out as if it is a gift. “Yours?”
With a laugh, the other accepts it, unfolding it to pull over himself before he turns back to Jin. “Thanks,” he says, gaze unwavering.
“So, um,” Jin gives something resembling a shrug. “You want to go somewhere?”
The other averts his gaze for a second, pretending to consider the request before looking back up at him with a grin. “Sure, where?”
---
It smells a tad bit musty from the excessive amounts of sheet music lining the shelves, but Jin loves this place all the same. It’s a safe haven from the never-ending hustle and bustle of New York City, especially during the holidays when the out-of-state-ers come to visit and shop. He nods at the clerk at the counter with a quiet holiday greeting before leading his companion into the far back of the store, towards the guitars collected along the wall and wedged into the corners of the space.
“You come here often?”
“My friend owns this place,” Jin responds, skimming his fingers across a few cases as he contemplates which guitar to pick for tonight. “So I do come here a lot.” He tugs out one of his favorite brands, unzipping the case to pull out a smooth, worn guitar, tightly strung. “This one’s my favorite. A bit old, a bit weary, but beautiful. Nobody appreciates her enough.”
“Sounds like my mom,” the other says, amusement lingering in his gaze when Jin chuckles, beginning to strum the strings in varied chords. “Do you play a lot?”
“Never enough.”
“Play a song for me.”
“Hm,” thoughtfully, Jin regards the other man, a smile flitting across his lips. “Only if you tell me your name.”
The man pouts. “My name?”
“Full name?”
“Given name.”
“Fine.”
“Kazuya.”
Jin lets the syllables roll around his mouth a little, familiarizing himself. “Kazuya,” he whispers, beaming to himself. “Kazuya.”
Kazuya scoffs, a smile still hinting at his lips. “So are you going to play for me or what?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
He starts out soft, voice clear and low, prominent above the excess city sounds outside the entrance to the music shop. His eyes catch Kazuya’s as the chords begin to build, a smile spreading slowly across his features when the other doesn’t tear his gaze away (I don’t know you, but I want you all the more for that). Unconsciously, Kazuya shifts, lowering himself onto the ground to sit pretzel-style, his legs crossing, jacket half-slipping off his shoulders as Jin continues to sing (words fall through me, and always fool me, and I can’t react).
“Thank you,” Kazuya murmurs when the song ends, the last chords lingering in their ears as Jin hesitates, hands still resting on the wooden surface of the guitar.
“I,” with a sharp breath, Jin looks down, his fingers fiddling and plucking the strings. “Could I have your phone number? Or anything?”
At this, the other smiles, running a tongue between his lips in thought. “I have an idea.” With Jin watching, he gets up, moving over to the shelved music books stacked on top of each other. After staring at them for a moment, he pries one book off of the shelf, a book of guitar sheet music for American movie soundtracks. Biting his lips, he flips through the pages, grinning when he comes across the song Jin had just played. He looks back up.
“So I’m going to write my full name and number on the inside cover,” he states, extracting a pen from his pocket and holding it up for Jin to see. “And then I’m going to buy it, and sell it to a used bookstore somewhere else in the city. Every time you pass a bookstore, you can look, and the day you find it, you can call me.”
Mouth agape, Jin stands up, taking the book from Kazuya’s hands to stare at it. “Are you serious? Do you know how many copies have been printed of this book?” He gestures his hands towards the shelf, where ten identical copies are piled together. “There’s ten more right there.”
Kazuya just shrugs, shoves him away a little and opens the book to the inside cover, the pen bobbing up and down above the edge as he scribbles his information down. When he finishes, he hands the pen to Jin with a smile. “Pink ink,” he says when Jin inspects the strange colored designs. “It’ll be easy to find.”
“Easy for you to say,” Jin scoffs, watching as Kazuya brings out his wallet, rummaging through before pulling out a one-dollar bill, George Washington’s face staring back at him blankly from the worn green. Flipping it over to the other side, Kazuya presses it into the palm of Jin’s hand, nods towards the pen.
“You write yours - full name and number.”
Giving Kazuya a disbelieving look, Jin complies, careful to not poke a hole through the bill as he scrawls the information above the large letters printed on the backside of the bill. Kazuya looks away, hovering a hand over his eyes in order to not see what Jin has written. “Fold it when you’re done.”
Jin frowns, raising an eyebrow, but folds it anyway. As soon as he finishes, Kazuya turns back around, takes the bill from Jin’s hand. “Okay. Wait here.”
Quickly, Kazuya grabs a pencil from a nearby container; music notes swirled around it in a zigzagged design. He checks to make sure of the price - one dollar, Jin’s pretty sure - and runs to the counter, slapping down the folded dollar bill along with a few others and smiling when the clerk gives him a small paper bag to put the pencil and book of sheet music in. “Thank you,” Jin hears him say, eyes never leaving him as he returns to where Jin is standing.
“When I get that dollar bill back, I can call you.”
With an impressed smile, Jin shakes his head. “You’re crazy.”
“I might be,” Kazuya shrugs, slings the paper bag over his shoulder. “But if we’re meant to be, we’ll get them back.”
“Okay, whatever you say.” Helpless, Jin shrugs as well. “You want to take a walk?”
---
About half an hour later, they are standing in front of Yamapi’s apartment building, the pavement almost empty of passerby, lobby lights bright within. Jin opens the door for Kazuya, hand resting lightly on the glass as he waits for the other man to walk in before him, grinning courteously.
There are two elevators on the right side, golden and engraved with the letters WELCOME. They are directly across from each other, and Kazuya blinks at them for a second, another idea forming inside his eyes. Seeing this, Jin crosses his arms, trying to prevent the smile from crossing his face. “What now?”
The elevator beside them stops with a ding, the doors opening to let an elderly couple walk out, hand-in-hand. Kazuya points to it. “You go in there,” he says, and waits for Jin to stroll inside.
“And I’ll go in here,” he presses the button for the opposite elevator to open, and steps inside, turning around to face Jin. “Now when the doors close, you’re going to press the button for a random floor, and I’m going to do the same. If we end up on the same floor, then it’s fate.”
Jin gapes. “You can’t be serious. There are forty floors!”
“Just pick one.”
The doors slide swiftly close, and Jin juts out his lip, moving forward to stare at the rows of buttons in front of him, as if he will be able to predict the future. Finally, with a resigned sigh, he closes his eyes and presses the first button his finger lands on - which, when he opens his eyes, ends up being the twenty-third floor.
He leans back, and begins to wait.
--
In the opposite elevator, Kazuya chews on his bottom lip, pausing for a split second before pressing the number twenty-three - his lucky number. He crosses his fingers, slipping his hands into his pockets and raising his head to watch the numbers on the screen change.
--
The door dings open at the tenth floor - Yamapi’s floor - and Jin is startled back when a figure flies at him, tiny arms wrapping around his waist. “Hey, Kazumi,” he laughs, petting her hair and glancing up to see Yamapi, arms crossed, stepping into the elevator.
“Long time no see,” he comments idly, and Jin sticks out his tongue, releasing the girl in his arms. In a spontaneous motion, she bounds towards the number pad, her palms landing on the buttons and pressing all the floors up to the twenty-third floor. Panicked, Jin holds out his hand with a loud “No!” which causes both Yamapi and his daughter to turn around at him, surprised.
“Jin?”
Clenching his teeth, Jin bangs his head against the mirrored wall, closing his eyes to regain his breath. It’s not like you would’ve ended up on the same floor anyway, he tells himself, turning back around to face Yamapi with a smile.
--
Kazuya reaches the twenty-third floor in a few minutes, the doors sliding open with a quiet ding. He steps out, rising up on his tiptoes to survey the area around the elevators, but there’s no sign of anybody there.
Heart dipping a little in disappointment, he lowers himself onto one of the dark green cushioned sofa chairs, hands in his lap.
--
“Is he here?” Excited, Yamapi, Kazumi and Jin all peer out of the elevator simultaneously, the sign for the floor reading fifteen. When there’s nobody, they all push back into the elevator, Jin frantically pressing the DOORS CLOSE button until Yamapi tells him to stop, or it might refrain from functioning.
They do the same procedure for the next seven floors, heads peeking out in identical movements to try and spot Kazuya, but to no avail. Heads hanging in disappointment, all three trudge back to the elevator, Kazumi’s hand gripping Jin’s tightly. “It’s okay, Jin-kun!”
“Twenty-third is next, Jin,” Yamapi chimes in, and Jin raises his head, sucking in a deep breath. Interlaced with his fingers, Kazumi crosses her own, tightening them around his. He looks down at her, and smiles, trying to ignore the nagging feeling in his heart.
--
Ten minutes pass with Kazuya sitting alone on the sofa chair, and finally he sighs, standing up slowly. With still nobody in sight, he presses for the doors of his elevator to open and walks inside, hand landing on the number one without any more hesitance.
Just as his elevator doors close and he begins to descend, the opposite doors ding open, revealing an eager Jin, Yamapi and Kazumi. Jin steps out hopefully, eyes searching for Kazuya’s already familiar figure.
When he fails to find it, he gazes at the elevator across from him, glancing up to see the numbers descending at a rapid pace above the doorway. Eyes widening, he hustles Yamapi and Kazumi back into the elevator, pressing the number one instantly and impatiently ordering the doors to close.
They close with a sweep; numbers falling down floor by floor as Jin bites his lip anxiously, willing the elevator to move downwards faster.
After what feels like an eternity, the elevator finally halts at the number one, golden doors opening for a crowd of people waiting to get in. Furrowing his eyebrows, Jin pushes forward, hand grasping Kazumi’s, who is tugging on her father with her other hand. Together, they break through the mob, Jin fast and desperate in the lead, moving through the scattered passerby in the lobby as he tries not to crash into anybody.
He catches sight of Kazuya out on the sidewalk, and surges forward, losing Kazumi’s hand in the process. Completely oblivious, he continues to rush towards Kazuya’s figure, cursing beneath his breath as he watches it walk further away, around the corner of a bus parked near the entrance and into a crowd of people.
When he reaches the same corner of the bus, Kazuya’s figure is long gone, disappeared in an unknown direction. “Fuck,” Jin mutters, slamming his hand against the metallic surface of the bus. There’s a tap on his shoulder, and he turns to see the bus driver glaring at him from over her spectacles, stout figure positioned behind him. “Sorry,” he murmurs, backing away from the bus, plasters a smile on his face, threading his way back through the mill of people into the lobby, where he finds Yamapi and Kazumi sitting around a coffee table playing Go-Fish.
They both look up when he arrives, Yamapi’s hand in the process of putting a card down on the table for Kazumi to take. He stands as soon as he sees Jin, dropping his cards facedown onto the glossy wooden surface of the table. “What happened?”
Jin plops down heavily into the sofa chair, burying his face into his hands. “I lost him,” he muffles into his palms, fingers running up to rake through his hair in frustration. “Dammit, I lost him.”
Yamapi is looking at him with apologetic eyes, a hand clapping on his back for comfort. “It’s okay, man. Maybe you just weren’t meant to be.”
The sentence only makes Jin sink down lower into the chair, peeking at his best friend through the cracks of his fingers. “Do shut up, Pi.”
Raising his hands in surrender, Yamapi pulls back. “Just trying to help.”
“I know.” Jin pulls himself back up, leaning forward on his knees to rest his chin in the cup of his hands. “It was just so…different, you know? Like I could have been happy being next to him my entire life.”
Eyebrow arching, Yamapi picks up his cards again. “Okay, now you’re getting weird.”
“I don’t know, Pi,” with another breath of frustration, Jin gazes down at the ring still on his finger, now too brilliant and mocking in the light. “I really don’t know.”
(And games that never amount, to more than they’re meant, will play themselves out.)
part 2