(multi-chapter) second chances - chapter two
Title: Second Chances
Author: fingeredheart
Pairing: Akame, Kame x OC (friendship), Pin (friendship), hint of Kame x Yamapi (past)
Genre: Romance, friendship, angst, drama, AU
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer(s): Nothing's mine except the plot.
Summary: “Because,” Kame breathes out, face pale, lips drawing together into a line (he suddenly looks tired, Jin thinks, washed out by the world). “I don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did.”
Chapter One l
A/N: And the plot thickens! Sort of. I'm actually really glad people are expressing interest in this, especially since it's been a while since I wrote an Akame multi-chapter. Thanks for the support, and I hope you continue :) enjoy! Comments are, as always, very much loved upon. ♥
Chapter Two --
A train ride and a million persuasive arguments later, Kame is standing in front of Akanishi Jin’s apartment door, beneath the bright, eerily cheerful lights of the hallway. There’s nobody else in sight as he presses a finger to the doorbell, tilting his head for the faint, shrill answer inside the apartment.
After a long moment, the door swings open. Jin is facing him directly, hair tousled from sleep and blinking the sleep from his eyes. When those eyes locate his, they blink in confusion, and then a wariness seeps in. “Who are you, what are you doing, and who let you in?” Jin’s voice is hoarse, low.
“I’m Kamenashi Kazuya, I’m a doctor, and your bodyguard let me in.”
Jin stares at him, immobile, and then peers around the corner of the doorframe, as if to check for anything else suspicious. When he’s content with what he sees, he steps back, still regarding Kame disdainfully. “A doctor? Why are you here?”
“I’m here to discuss your father,” is the blatant reply, and immediately, Jin’s expression darkens (almost as much as Kame expected, really).
“What does he want?”
“Actually, it’s more of what I want.”
“And why do I care what you want?” Jin pauses a little when there’s no answer, and his voice resumes politeness as he regains his footing. “Please, whoever let you in, tell him to let you back out, Kamenashi-kun. Sorry to be of no help.” He moves back, hand pushing the door forward to close it, but Kame sticks out a foot just in time, watching as the bottom edge clashes against his sneaker and swings back in retaliation.
There’s a loud, irritated sigh from the singer. “Look. I don’t have time for this right now. What do you want from me?”
Crossing his arms, Kame purses his lips. “So now you care.”
Jin rolls his eyes, exhaling in a puff. “Are you having fun, doctor?”
“No,” Kame’s tone is painfully calm. “If you think I have fun traveling halfway across the country and pretending I give a damn about your stupid singing skills and screeching fans, then you’d better be disappointed. I’m only here to make you realize one mistake out of all the billions you’ve probably made, as a regular human being, in your life. And obviously, nobody calls you out on them as often as they should.”
Jin’s expression doesn’t change, but Kame notices a dark lifting in his eyes, reluctant. “Okay, but I’m not letting you in.”
“I’m not asking you to.” Setting his jaw, Kame bores his gaze deep into Jin’s, so intensely that the singer releases the doorframe, averting his eyes. “Look, Akanishi Jin. I don’t know what your father ever did to you or what you did to him to make you both like this, but if it’s as stupid as your brother said it was, then you’re going to regret it.”
Surprise registers inside Jin’s eyes. “You talked to Reio?”
“Am I forbidden from doing so?” When Jin shrugs, Kame twitches exasperatedly. “At least he wasn’t as disagreeable as you.”
At this, Jin’s movements turn rigid, eyes clouding over. Satisfied with the effect, Kame moves away with a glimmer of a smile, drawing his foot back to the other side of the door frame, but instead of retracting and pulling the door shut, Jin pushes it wide open with a great amount of force. The loud bang! as it swings against the wall surprises Kame, and he turns back to stare at Jin as the sound echoes down the emptiness of the hallway.
“Tell me what he wants,” Jin says in a hoarse whisper, pain reflected in the depths of his eyes. Kame blinks, still trying to absorb the sudden rawness of Jin’s voice, the collapse of the walls he has obviously erected around the topic of his father. “What does that old bastard want?” He takes his hand away from the door, fingers flexing as it falls to his side.
Kame bites his lip. “I told you, he doesn’t want anything.”
“Then why,” the question is dangerously soft, almost a challenge, “are you here?”
There’s a momentary silence that hangs between them, thick and uncertain. Kame’s eyes are averted downwards, his hands absently fingering the loosening threads at the hem of his shirt. When he finally looks up, his eyes are blurred, completely void of all prior confidence; but Jin continues to stand his ground. “Because,” Kame breathes out, face pale, lips drawing together into a line (he suddenly looks tired, Jin thinks, washed out by the world). “I don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did.”
---
“I ran away from home.” Kame’s hands are cupped around a steaming mug, head bowed low over his reflection in the liquid as he stirs it gently, around and around until Jin purses his lips in annoyance (and the temptation to reach out and stop Kame’s hands from trembling). “I was like you.”
With a sigh, Jin crosses his legs, careful not to spill his own coffee. “Stop talking like you’re older than me.”
“Stop acting like you’re not older than me.”
Scoffing, Jin puts down his mug, folding his hands together as he leans forward, elbows digging into the washed-out denim of his jeans. “Can we please talk without arguing every other sentence?” He resists the urge to scream when Kame just pierces an indifferent gaze at him, shrugging. Raking a hand through his hair, Jin exhales a long breath. “Okay. You ran away from home. I ran away from home, too.”
“I guessed as much.” Pausing, Kame slides his mug away, and leans back to cross his arms over his chest. “He didn’t want you to become a singer?”
“How did you know?”
“Same,” Kame laughs, almost nostalgic. “He didn’t want me to be a baseball player.”
“You wanted to be a baseball player? You?” Incredulously, Jin raises an eyebrow, eyes traveling over the prim neatness of Kame’s outfit, the aligned sweep of his bangs. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope,” with a curt shake, Kame gives a tiny smile. “Hard to imagine, right. I loved it. Baseball was my life.”
Forehead creased, Jin narrows his eyes in thought, as if he is imagining Kame on a baseball field, dust rising up from his shoes, helmet pulled low over his eyes, bat gripped tightly in hand. “I guess,” he grits his teeth a bit to himself, and then looks away. “You’d look good in a baseball uniform.”
Kame snorts, but turns away as well. “Yeah,” he heaves a breath, more to himself to anyone. “Well, I liked it no matter how bad I looked.” Lips curving, he turns to glance back at Jin. “So I ran away. I was going to find my own success, I thought, and throw it back in his face, show him he was wrong.” He watches, gauging Jin’s response as the other man nods in understanding. “And I did make it.”
Bewildered, Jin tilts his head. “But, you…”
“I got a call the night before my first game from my mother.” Inhaling sharply, Kame glances down into his lap. “I hadn’t talked to her in five years.” There’s a brief pause. “She wasn’t even coherent enough to scold me. All she kept saying as soon as I answered the phone was, ‘oh my god, Kazuya, he’s gone, oh my god, Kazu, please come back, he’s gone forever.’” Shutting his eyes tightly, Kame adopts an involuntarily pained look, as if he is suppressing the memory, trying to detach himself from it, like it is a piece of fiction he is relating. “At first, I thought she’d gone insane.”
Silent, Jin stares at him with unreadable eyes, but he fails to notice.
“He was in a car crash,” Kame continues. “He died that night, and I couldn’t make it in time. The last thing I ever said to him,” he sucks in a deep breath. “The last thing I told him was, ‘I hate you; I wish I was never born into this family.’ It was in my letter,” he tucks his hands into his pockets. “The letter I left him right before I ran away.”
For a long while, neither of them speaks, the silence ringing in their ears. Kame’s eyes flutter open to find Jin still staring at him quietly, eyes darkened in indescribable emotions. “Akanishi,” he whispers, gaze locking with Jin’s. “Don’t make yourself regret the mistakes you can still fix. You never know what’s going to happen tomorrow.” His eyes drop, misty. “Make me feel like I’ve done something right this time around.”
It’s quiet for a while, the only noticeable sound being the whir of the refrigerator from the kitchen, accompanied by distant chatter out at the other end of the hallway, voices that seem to near with each shuffle of footsteps. Kame hangs his head low in apparent concentration, anticipating the arrival which Jin has appeared to notice as well.
The knocks are loud, several impatient raps on the door. “Open the door, Bakanishi,” comes the shout, along with a condescending, “Or we’ll break it down,” in a different voice. Arching an eyebrow, Kame clears his throat, stacking his papers together as Jin stands hesitantly.
“I’ll be back in a few days,” Kame states decisively, and he sees the signs of grateful relief wash over Jin’s face. “Here’s my number.” He places his card on the table, aligning it with the corner of the glass surface before straightening up as well, nodding shortly.
Mutely, Jin follows him to the door, clicking the lock open as Kame slips on his shoes. The door swings open just as Kame finishes pulling his heel in, and two figures appear, languidly silhouetted by the lights overhead. Kame chances them a brief glance before nodding and lowering his head, squeezing past and departing down the hallway. He can feel the two’s curious eyes on his back, but he doesn’t turn around.
(And because of that, he completely misses the sympathetic stirrings deep inside of Jin’s eyes.)
---
Erika’s laugh is bright over the phone, a total opposition to the dreary gray sky outside of where Kame is smearing his fingertips against the condensation of the thick subway window. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she reprimands in between spurts of laughter. “You did that to Akanishi Jin?”
Kame shrugs nonchalantly, before he realizes he can’t be seen. “Well, it’s not like he gets a free pass through the hardships of life just because he’s a star. He’s old enough to stop pretending.”
There’s a ruffle of papers on the other end, and he hears low murmurs seeping through what he supposes to be Erika’s hand muffling the receiver. After a few moments, there’s a brisk clicking of heels that disappear farther in the distance, and Erika’s breathing returns to the line. “Kamenashi,” she says, tone empty of all prior amusement. “Wherever you are, I am going to presume right now that you’re going to have to get that Akanishi Jin here, and quick.”
In confusion, Kame shifts, crossing his legs. “Why? What just happened?”
She pauses. “We did some check-ups on Akanishi-san,” she relates carefully, and Kame’s breath stops short (this is the one moment he can never stand, even after being a doctor for so many years).
“And what did you find?”
Her voice is apologetic, defined. “Kame,” she breathes into the phone, “He has a tumor. In his brain.”
---
“Open up, or I’m going to break your door down.” His foot taps the floor impatiently, unsteadily as the door instantly opens to reveal a shocked Jin, hair still wet from a shower. Unaffected, Kame crosses the door frame easily, not even bothering to remove his shoes as he prods Jin in the chest defiantly. “You’re going back home. Today.”
With a long, puffed-out breath, Jin pulls away from Kame’s accusing finger. “Okay, Doctor Kamenashi. Thank you for your concise demand, but I, unlike you, do not have the time on my hands to make a trip halfway across the country for no apparent reason. Also, I would appreciate it if you elaborated on why you happen to standing in my apartment, without my permission. No matter how lowly you seem to think of me, I would like to remind you that I am, at the least, a world-famous star.”
Blinking, Kame draws back on his own, folding his arms across his chest with a slightly impressed air. “Did you rehearse that?”
“Was it too good?”
“Uh,” Kame replies intelligently, twisting his lips into what he hopes is a menacing frown. “No matter, though, you’re coming with me. Right now. The last train leaves in half an hour.”
Seemingly exasperated, Jin leans back against the wall. “Look, Kamenashi. I have a schedule, you know. I have things to do.” He gestures vaguely into the air, towards the hallway. “Fans to please.”
For good measure, Kame steps out, tilting his head exaggeratedly back to survey the area. “Don’t see anyone waiting,” he remarks snidely, before returning to Jin’s disapproving gaze. “Look, Mr. Rock Star. You’re not the only one with things to do. Just pretend I’m a fan. Please me.”
With something resembling an unimpressed “huh,” Jin raises an eyebrow. “Give me one good reason.”
This time, it’s Kame’s turn to look displeased. “Well, I was going to explain it to you nicely when you boarded the train with me,” he says pointedly, “But you never give me any chances. Your father has a tumor. Is that good enough for you?”
Jin opens his mouth as if to retort, but then closes it again. “That was a good one,” he whispers, almost disbelievingly (but Kame squints a little, and he can see through to the insecurity). “You’re good, Kamenashi. Very funny.”
Instead of a witty reply, though, all Jin is met with is silence. Uncertainty spreads in his features, rippling inside the dark of his eyes. “You’re serious,” he says, and there’s a traitorous choke in his voice, one that he pulls back immediately. “You’re kidding. I can’t possibly cancel everything planned for the next few months.”
“I’m not asking you to.” Kame’s voice is strangely composed, a complete opposite of the tumult of anxiety inside him as he roughly shoves it back deep into his heart, where it belongs. “Just a few days. Sort things out, Akanishi. For me.”
“For you,” Jin whispers, as if contemplating the idea (and somehow, he doesn’t seem as bitter about it as the day before; Kame wills himself not to twitch). Suddenly, the stairwell door at the end of the corridor bangs open, but Kame refuses to budge, his arms crossing expectantly as the sound of footsteps nears.
Contrary to this reaction, Jin turns to look at the intruder. “Hey, Pi,” he greets, but his voice is void of emotion. The name fails to register in Kame’s mind, but he becomes increasingly aware of the heavy silence when Jin starts to stare at him weirdly, eyebrows lifting in open disbelief.
Narrowing his eyes, Kame turns back to look at whom he supposes is Jin’s friend to see what the distraction is all about, and the face he sees makes him jump back slightly, heart thudding low in his chest and knotting. His breath hitches, eyes now completely focused on the other man, and Yamapi is staring back just as intensely with a sorrow-filled expression.
“Tomohisa,” is the only coherent utter that will form on Kame’s lips, just as the other takes a step forward.
“Long time no see, Kazuya.”
Author: fingeredheart
Pairing: Akame, Kame x OC (friendship), Pin (friendship), hint of Kame x Yamapi (past)
Genre: Romance, friendship, angst, drama, AU
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer(s): Nothing's mine except the plot.
Summary: “Because,” Kame breathes out, face pale, lips drawing together into a line (he suddenly looks tired, Jin thinks, washed out by the world). “I don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did.”
Chapter One l
A/N: And the plot thickens! Sort of. I'm actually really glad people are expressing interest in this, especially since it's been a while since I wrote an Akame multi-chapter. Thanks for the support, and I hope you continue :) enjoy! Comments are, as always, very much loved upon. ♥
Chapter Two --
A train ride and a million persuasive arguments later, Kame is standing in front of Akanishi Jin’s apartment door, beneath the bright, eerily cheerful lights of the hallway. There’s nobody else in sight as he presses a finger to the doorbell, tilting his head for the faint, shrill answer inside the apartment.
After a long moment, the door swings open. Jin is facing him directly, hair tousled from sleep and blinking the sleep from his eyes. When those eyes locate his, they blink in confusion, and then a wariness seeps in. “Who are you, what are you doing, and who let you in?” Jin’s voice is hoarse, low.
“I’m Kamenashi Kazuya, I’m a doctor, and your bodyguard let me in.”
Jin stares at him, immobile, and then peers around the corner of the doorframe, as if to check for anything else suspicious. When he’s content with what he sees, he steps back, still regarding Kame disdainfully. “A doctor? Why are you here?”
“I’m here to discuss your father,” is the blatant reply, and immediately, Jin’s expression darkens (almost as much as Kame expected, really).
“What does he want?”
“Actually, it’s more of what I want.”
“And why do I care what you want?” Jin pauses a little when there’s no answer, and his voice resumes politeness as he regains his footing. “Please, whoever let you in, tell him to let you back out, Kamenashi-kun. Sorry to be of no help.” He moves back, hand pushing the door forward to close it, but Kame sticks out a foot just in time, watching as the bottom edge clashes against his sneaker and swings back in retaliation.
There’s a loud, irritated sigh from the singer. “Look. I don’t have time for this right now. What do you want from me?”
Crossing his arms, Kame purses his lips. “So now you care.”
Jin rolls his eyes, exhaling in a puff. “Are you having fun, doctor?”
“No,” Kame’s tone is painfully calm. “If you think I have fun traveling halfway across the country and pretending I give a damn about your stupid singing skills and screeching fans, then you’d better be disappointed. I’m only here to make you realize one mistake out of all the billions you’ve probably made, as a regular human being, in your life. And obviously, nobody calls you out on them as often as they should.”
Jin’s expression doesn’t change, but Kame notices a dark lifting in his eyes, reluctant. “Okay, but I’m not letting you in.”
“I’m not asking you to.” Setting his jaw, Kame bores his gaze deep into Jin’s, so intensely that the singer releases the doorframe, averting his eyes. “Look, Akanishi Jin. I don’t know what your father ever did to you or what you did to him to make you both like this, but if it’s as stupid as your brother said it was, then you’re going to regret it.”
Surprise registers inside Jin’s eyes. “You talked to Reio?”
“Am I forbidden from doing so?” When Jin shrugs, Kame twitches exasperatedly. “At least he wasn’t as disagreeable as you.”
At this, Jin’s movements turn rigid, eyes clouding over. Satisfied with the effect, Kame moves away with a glimmer of a smile, drawing his foot back to the other side of the door frame, but instead of retracting and pulling the door shut, Jin pushes it wide open with a great amount of force. The loud bang! as it swings against the wall surprises Kame, and he turns back to stare at Jin as the sound echoes down the emptiness of the hallway.
“Tell me what he wants,” Jin says in a hoarse whisper, pain reflected in the depths of his eyes. Kame blinks, still trying to absorb the sudden rawness of Jin’s voice, the collapse of the walls he has obviously erected around the topic of his father. “What does that old bastard want?” He takes his hand away from the door, fingers flexing as it falls to his side.
Kame bites his lip. “I told you, he doesn’t want anything.”
“Then why,” the question is dangerously soft, almost a challenge, “are you here?”
There’s a momentary silence that hangs between them, thick and uncertain. Kame’s eyes are averted downwards, his hands absently fingering the loosening threads at the hem of his shirt. When he finally looks up, his eyes are blurred, completely void of all prior confidence; but Jin continues to stand his ground. “Because,” Kame breathes out, face pale, lips drawing together into a line (he suddenly looks tired, Jin thinks, washed out by the world). “I don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did.”
---
“I ran away from home.” Kame’s hands are cupped around a steaming mug, head bowed low over his reflection in the liquid as he stirs it gently, around and around until Jin purses his lips in annoyance (and the temptation to reach out and stop Kame’s hands from trembling). “I was like you.”
With a sigh, Jin crosses his legs, careful not to spill his own coffee. “Stop talking like you’re older than me.”
“Stop acting like you’re not older than me.”
Scoffing, Jin puts down his mug, folding his hands together as he leans forward, elbows digging into the washed-out denim of his jeans. “Can we please talk without arguing every other sentence?” He resists the urge to scream when Kame just pierces an indifferent gaze at him, shrugging. Raking a hand through his hair, Jin exhales a long breath. “Okay. You ran away from home. I ran away from home, too.”
“I guessed as much.” Pausing, Kame slides his mug away, and leans back to cross his arms over his chest. “He didn’t want you to become a singer?”
“How did you know?”
“Same,” Kame laughs, almost nostalgic. “He didn’t want me to be a baseball player.”
“You wanted to be a baseball player? You?” Incredulously, Jin raises an eyebrow, eyes traveling over the prim neatness of Kame’s outfit, the aligned sweep of his bangs. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope,” with a curt shake, Kame gives a tiny smile. “Hard to imagine, right. I loved it. Baseball was my life.”
Forehead creased, Jin narrows his eyes in thought, as if he is imagining Kame on a baseball field, dust rising up from his shoes, helmet pulled low over his eyes, bat gripped tightly in hand. “I guess,” he grits his teeth a bit to himself, and then looks away. “You’d look good in a baseball uniform.”
Kame snorts, but turns away as well. “Yeah,” he heaves a breath, more to himself to anyone. “Well, I liked it no matter how bad I looked.” Lips curving, he turns to glance back at Jin. “So I ran away. I was going to find my own success, I thought, and throw it back in his face, show him he was wrong.” He watches, gauging Jin’s response as the other man nods in understanding. “And I did make it.”
Bewildered, Jin tilts his head. “But, you…”
“I got a call the night before my first game from my mother.” Inhaling sharply, Kame glances down into his lap. “I hadn’t talked to her in five years.” There’s a brief pause. “She wasn’t even coherent enough to scold me. All she kept saying as soon as I answered the phone was, ‘oh my god, Kazuya, he’s gone, oh my god, Kazu, please come back, he’s gone forever.’” Shutting his eyes tightly, Kame adopts an involuntarily pained look, as if he is suppressing the memory, trying to detach himself from it, like it is a piece of fiction he is relating. “At first, I thought she’d gone insane.”
Silent, Jin stares at him with unreadable eyes, but he fails to notice.
“He was in a car crash,” Kame continues. “He died that night, and I couldn’t make it in time. The last thing I ever said to him,” he sucks in a deep breath. “The last thing I told him was, ‘I hate you; I wish I was never born into this family.’ It was in my letter,” he tucks his hands into his pockets. “The letter I left him right before I ran away.”
For a long while, neither of them speaks, the silence ringing in their ears. Kame’s eyes flutter open to find Jin still staring at him quietly, eyes darkened in indescribable emotions. “Akanishi,” he whispers, gaze locking with Jin’s. “Don’t make yourself regret the mistakes you can still fix. You never know what’s going to happen tomorrow.” His eyes drop, misty. “Make me feel like I’ve done something right this time around.”
It’s quiet for a while, the only noticeable sound being the whir of the refrigerator from the kitchen, accompanied by distant chatter out at the other end of the hallway, voices that seem to near with each shuffle of footsteps. Kame hangs his head low in apparent concentration, anticipating the arrival which Jin has appeared to notice as well.
The knocks are loud, several impatient raps on the door. “Open the door, Bakanishi,” comes the shout, along with a condescending, “Or we’ll break it down,” in a different voice. Arching an eyebrow, Kame clears his throat, stacking his papers together as Jin stands hesitantly.
“I’ll be back in a few days,” Kame states decisively, and he sees the signs of grateful relief wash over Jin’s face. “Here’s my number.” He places his card on the table, aligning it with the corner of the glass surface before straightening up as well, nodding shortly.
Mutely, Jin follows him to the door, clicking the lock open as Kame slips on his shoes. The door swings open just as Kame finishes pulling his heel in, and two figures appear, languidly silhouetted by the lights overhead. Kame chances them a brief glance before nodding and lowering his head, squeezing past and departing down the hallway. He can feel the two’s curious eyes on his back, but he doesn’t turn around.
(And because of that, he completely misses the sympathetic stirrings deep inside of Jin’s eyes.)
---
Erika’s laugh is bright over the phone, a total opposition to the dreary gray sky outside of where Kame is smearing his fingertips against the condensation of the thick subway window. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she reprimands in between spurts of laughter. “You did that to Akanishi Jin?”
Kame shrugs nonchalantly, before he realizes he can’t be seen. “Well, it’s not like he gets a free pass through the hardships of life just because he’s a star. He’s old enough to stop pretending.”
There’s a ruffle of papers on the other end, and he hears low murmurs seeping through what he supposes to be Erika’s hand muffling the receiver. After a few moments, there’s a brisk clicking of heels that disappear farther in the distance, and Erika’s breathing returns to the line. “Kamenashi,” she says, tone empty of all prior amusement. “Wherever you are, I am going to presume right now that you’re going to have to get that Akanishi Jin here, and quick.”
In confusion, Kame shifts, crossing his legs. “Why? What just happened?”
She pauses. “We did some check-ups on Akanishi-san,” she relates carefully, and Kame’s breath stops short (this is the one moment he can never stand, even after being a doctor for so many years).
“And what did you find?”
Her voice is apologetic, defined. “Kame,” she breathes into the phone, “He has a tumor. In his brain.”
---
“Open up, or I’m going to break your door down.” His foot taps the floor impatiently, unsteadily as the door instantly opens to reveal a shocked Jin, hair still wet from a shower. Unaffected, Kame crosses the door frame easily, not even bothering to remove his shoes as he prods Jin in the chest defiantly. “You’re going back home. Today.”
With a long, puffed-out breath, Jin pulls away from Kame’s accusing finger. “Okay, Doctor Kamenashi. Thank you for your concise demand, but I, unlike you, do not have the time on my hands to make a trip halfway across the country for no apparent reason. Also, I would appreciate it if you elaborated on why you happen to standing in my apartment, without my permission. No matter how lowly you seem to think of me, I would like to remind you that I am, at the least, a world-famous star.”
Blinking, Kame draws back on his own, folding his arms across his chest with a slightly impressed air. “Did you rehearse that?”
“Was it too good?”
“Uh,” Kame replies intelligently, twisting his lips into what he hopes is a menacing frown. “No matter, though, you’re coming with me. Right now. The last train leaves in half an hour.”
Seemingly exasperated, Jin leans back against the wall. “Look, Kamenashi. I have a schedule, you know. I have things to do.” He gestures vaguely into the air, towards the hallway. “Fans to please.”
For good measure, Kame steps out, tilting his head exaggeratedly back to survey the area. “Don’t see anyone waiting,” he remarks snidely, before returning to Jin’s disapproving gaze. “Look, Mr. Rock Star. You’re not the only one with things to do. Just pretend I’m a fan. Please me.”
With something resembling an unimpressed “huh,” Jin raises an eyebrow. “Give me one good reason.”
This time, it’s Kame’s turn to look displeased. “Well, I was going to explain it to you nicely when you boarded the train with me,” he says pointedly, “But you never give me any chances. Your father has a tumor. Is that good enough for you?”
Jin opens his mouth as if to retort, but then closes it again. “That was a good one,” he whispers, almost disbelievingly (but Kame squints a little, and he can see through to the insecurity). “You’re good, Kamenashi. Very funny.”
Instead of a witty reply, though, all Jin is met with is silence. Uncertainty spreads in his features, rippling inside the dark of his eyes. “You’re serious,” he says, and there’s a traitorous choke in his voice, one that he pulls back immediately. “You’re kidding. I can’t possibly cancel everything planned for the next few months.”
“I’m not asking you to.” Kame’s voice is strangely composed, a complete opposite of the tumult of anxiety inside him as he roughly shoves it back deep into his heart, where it belongs. “Just a few days. Sort things out, Akanishi. For me.”
“For you,” Jin whispers, as if contemplating the idea (and somehow, he doesn’t seem as bitter about it as the day before; Kame wills himself not to twitch). Suddenly, the stairwell door at the end of the corridor bangs open, but Kame refuses to budge, his arms crossing expectantly as the sound of footsteps nears.
Contrary to this reaction, Jin turns to look at the intruder. “Hey, Pi,” he greets, but his voice is void of emotion. The name fails to register in Kame’s mind, but he becomes increasingly aware of the heavy silence when Jin starts to stare at him weirdly, eyebrows lifting in open disbelief.
Narrowing his eyes, Kame turns back to look at whom he supposes is Jin’s friend to see what the distraction is all about, and the face he sees makes him jump back slightly, heart thudding low in his chest and knotting. His breath hitches, eyes now completely focused on the other man, and Yamapi is staring back just as intensely with a sorrow-filled expression.
“Tomohisa,” is the only coherent utter that will form on Kame’s lips, just as the other takes a step forward.
“Long time no see, Kazuya.”