(multi-chapter) second chances - chapter four
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 Chapter Two l Chapter Three l
A/N: Figured again that I like to write when I'm sick. Hopefully this chapter clears a lot of things up, because I feel bad for being so ~suspenseful~ and everybody's getting confused on me, haha. I hope I'm not moving too quickly through this; I don't want to draw it out too long. Enjoy! Comments are, of course, always appreciated. ♥
Chapter Four--
A sleek, black car pulls up to the curb as soon as he arrives at the entrance to the apartment building, tires squeaking to a halt on the newly renovated pavement. As Kame watches in curiosity, the back door swings open, barely missing a nearby pillar by a mere centimeter as Jin’s head pokes out, shades covering the upper half of his face. “Hop in,” his smile is too contagious for so early in the morning.
Instead of complying, though, Kame takes a step back. “You’re kidding, right?”
Adopting a confused look, Jin slides halfway out the door, his feet landing on the pavement. “What do you mean?”
Kame folds his arms primly over his chest, an action that doesn’t suit his casual, jeans and long-sleeves outfit quite well. Noticing this, Jin’s lips quirk, but Kame fails to acknowledge his amusement. “Akanishi, the train station is two blocks away. You can’t possibly expect to make your chauffeur drive only two damn blocks because you refuse to get off your lazy butt and breathe in some fresh air.”
“Actually, that’s exactly what I planned to do.” Jin leans forward on his elbows. “Unless you’d like hordes of screaming girls to come swarming around you and snap flashes of pictures in your face, Kamenashi?”
Unconvinced, Kame just looks at him. “Don’t act so smug. Even your ridiculous fans have lives, Akanishi. It’s four-thirty in the morning; I doubt anybody is willing to get up just to see your face out in the dark.” Pursing his lips, he adds, “Anyways, personally, I’d rather walk.”
Sighing, Jin runs a hand through his hair. “I didn’t think you’d be this stubborn, even at such early hours in the morning.”
It’s Kame’s turn to smirk. “Well, get used to it.” He turns on his heel, swiftly sidestepping the edge of the curb before moving back towards the center of the sidewalk, hair blowing back slightly in the soft breeze. Jin watches his retreating back for a few moments, still rendered speechless (either by the confrontation, or the figure in front of him, he’s starting to become a bit unsure). When he regains his senses, though, he stands up instantly, slamming the door closed and waving his bodyguard away, whom is regarding him with a stiff, questioning look.
“I’ll walk,” he says curtly, “no need to follow.” He doesn’t wait for the sound of the engine starting before he is already halfway down the sidewalk, running to catch up with Kame’s brisk, professional walking speed. When he does, Kame only chances him a sideways glance, smile flashing at lightning speed at the corners of his lips.
“You know,” Jin starts, after they’ve walked for a brief silence, “You seem to like underestimating people. Like, for instance, how do you know I won’t be spotted by some fan hiding in the shadows?”
Without breaking his step, Kame arches an eyebrow. “Are your fans really that sketchy?”
Jin shrugs. “You never know,” he replies honestly, the words registering only a moment later. He turns to face Kame, indignant. “Hey! Are you saying I’m appreciated by only sketchy people?”
At this, Kame laughs (it’s a surprisingly exhilarating sensation, considering he doesn’t really laugh often). “You said it yourself, Akanishi,” he throws over his shoulder, hesitating slightly to wait for Jin to fall back in step with him. The other does so, albeit reluctantly, and Kame looks to see a pout forming on his lips. “Oh, you’re such a child.”
Just as Jin opens his mouth to retort, facing halfway towards Kame, he freezes, eyes widening. “Kamenashi,” he says quietly, and before Kame can turn to see what he’s looking at, there’s a hand gripping his wrist, fingers tight and warmly pressed into his skin. “Run!”
Kame does as he’s told, almost afraid to see what the commotion is about (he guesses it’s the fans he was doubting so much, though). He follows Jin’s flying figure ahead of him, hair whipping back into his face and scarf untying to trail behind him in loose, wispy curls of fabric. They run for what seems like ages, passing by blurs of cars and traffic lights until finally, Jin tugs him into the entryway of the train station, stumbling over laughter and marble steps.
“Did we lose them?” Breathless, Kame moves to pull his hand back, but is surprised when Jin only tightens the grip, fingers curling in the same way his lips are forming a smile.
“Gotcha,” smugly, Jin squeezes his wrist once, before letting go of his own accord. “You should have seen your face.”
The realization slowly dawns upon Kame, his expression morphing into one of shock. “You did not,” he sputters, averting his gaze when Jin gives him a sweet, innocent smile. “Akanishi! I really thought there were fans at our heel.”
“I know you did,” with a full-out laugh and sparkling eyes, Jin bounds forward into the train station, and Kame can’t do anything but follow along, still in his hurt pride. “Oh, lighten up, Kamenashi. It was all in good fun.”
Huffing, Kame shoves his hands into his pockets, refusing to look Jin in the eye. “Next time, remind me not to go off and look for a childish, immature rock star, of all people,” he mutters, more to himself than anyone, but Jin turns in reply anyway. Head still lowered, Kame doesn’t notice until he bumps into Jin, toes stubbing Jin’s sneakers and causing him to lose his balance. Just as he begins to fall, though, an arm snakes around his waist, catching him midair.
Opening his eyes, Kame finds Jin’s face in an all too close proximity. Startled, he immediately pushes away, breaking free of Jin’s grasp and brushing himself off (and pretending, in vain, that his cheeks aren’t starting to burn). “Way to make me feel like a girl and an idiot all in one morning, Akanishi.”
“Thanks a lot,” shooting a successful grin, Jin tilts his head. “And don’t worry, I’ll make sure you don’t go off and look for anybody ever again.”
Kame blinks, standing completely still to try and absorb the comment. He isn’t given much time, though, before Jin has already moved ahead, weaving through the increasing crowd of people migrating up the stairs to the second floor to buy tickets. Frowning, Kame jogs to catch up, lowering his head into the collar of his jacket when Jin flicks a glance back at him to check.
(The warmth that rises inside of him is careful and soft, and he’s not sure quite what to make of it.)
---
By the time he reaches the booth, Jin is already waving a pair of tickets at him, hood tossed over his hair and eyes gleaming. Kame rolls his eyes, bounding over to snatch a ticket from Jin’s grip. “Trust you to make yourself noticeable,” he mutters, tugging the older man along when a few girls nearby shoot Jin a suspicious glancing over.
“Why so serious?” Jin lets himself be dragged to the platform, only wrenching free when Kame releases his wrist to step inside the car of the train. “Last row,” he says in Kame’s ear as the attendant checks their tickets, giving them a small, polite smile before shooing them in.
Nonchalantly, Kame moves down the aisle, Jin at his heels. He lets Jin slide into the window seat in order to keep his identity unknown, and immediately sits down right after, blocking Jin from the aisle’s view. The other passengers aren’t taking much notice anyway; most of them are middle-aged office workers nursing mugs of coffee with eyes solely focused on the newspaper. After chancing a look around, Kame breathes a sigh of relief, turning to see Jin drawing random sketches on the condensation of the window.
They both don’t speak for a while, Kame’s eyes flickering as he leans back to look diagonally out the window, into the distance. The train engine begins to hum, a low vibration working its way into the ground beneath their feet as the whistle sounds. Closing his eyes, Kame tilts his head upwards.
“I have a question,” Jin’s voice startles him from his reverie, and his eyes flutter open to see the other’s attention now directed on him, eyes deep and dark in the shadow of the overhead shelf. “I know it seems random, but I just kept thinking about it.”
Shrugging, Kame turns to face the aisle, watches a baby drowsing in the seat nearby. “Shoot,” he says, figuring it can’t get much worse than an inquiry about Yamapi.
Instead, though, Jin turns to a completely different topic. “You know how you said your mother called you when your father died?” He waits for the significant stiffening of the contours of Kame’s back, the way he turns back slowly, nodding. “So she knew where you were? But she never cared to contact you for the five years before that?”
Kame’s eyes lock with Jin’s, immobile for a few seconds before the older man looks away, clearly uncomfortable. “Sorry. Shouldn’t have asked.”
“She wasn’t my real mother.”
At this, Jin flicks his gaze back on Kame. “Stepmother,” he says carefully, and waits for the affirmation. “No wonder.”
Kame shifts as the train begins to roll forward, the plastered signs and advertisements outside in the station blurring together through their window-view. “All she wanted was the money after he died,” he relates quietly, barely audible above the low murmur of the engine. “Not that it was surprising.”
When Jin shoots him an unreadable glance, he sighs. “Really, Akanishi? I would have thought Yamashita spilled everything to you.” His eyes glaze over slightly. “He tends to do that with people he trusts.”
“I’m sure you would know,” Jin clears his throat, relaxing into the corner where his seat meets the window. “He told me,” he clarifies when Kame gives him a questioning look. “He was just very vague about you in general, though.”
With a short laugh, Kame crosses his arms. “So now you’re expecting me to tell you my whole pathetic life story?”
Jin attempts a shrug. “I said I wanted to get to know you better.” When Kame doesn’t reply, he furrows his brows. “Unless you don’t want to tell, of course.”
Silently, Kame stares at him for a while, eyes measured. “Okay,” he agrees finally, to Jin’s genuine surprise. “But it’s not going to be pretty.”
“I wouldn’t expect any less.”
Sucking in a deep breath, Kame gives him a brief, reluctant glance. “Actually, how about you go first?”
Shooting him a grin, Jin turns to face him fully. “I knew you were going to say that.”
“Why not, Akanishi?”
Pausing, Jin bites his lip, tilting his head to observe Kame’s obviously reluctant-to-tell expression. “Okay,” he agrees, more easily than Kame, though still cautious. His fingers drum restlessly against the windowpane, bangs falling in a sweep over his eyes. “You live where I grew up. My mother died when I was three, so I can’t remember her.” He waits for a moment. “My father was always busy. He never told me what he did for a living, and I never asked. All I knew was that it was important, that he cared about it more than he cared about me and Reio, and that he worked with another by the name of Kamenashi.”
Kame freezes, clear images of his dream resounding in his mind. “You knew,” he whispers when Jin regards him with a contemplating look, obviously expecting his reaction. “You knew?” His voice rises up into a question involuntarily, barely managing to miss cracking in surprise.
“I knew,” Jin confirms, and his smile is tentative. “When you first told me your name, I was surprised. I thought it was such a crazy coincidence; it couldn’t be true.” He hesitates. “When I first met Yamapi, it was at a bar. He was drunk, barely standing, and remorsefully repeating some girl’s name whom had just dumped him because he was too busy with his work and never spent time with her.” Shrugging at Kame’s raise of eyebrows, Jin continues. “I knew who he was; I’d seen his name around, but the model agencies and music industry don’t mix for the most part.”
“He’s a model now,” Kame deciphers, and Jin nods.
“He almost got into a brawl, but I pulled him out and tried to help him get home, since he was a familiar face and all, and it didn’t seem like anybody else was willing to help. I managed to get him into a taxi, swaying and all. He said he’d seen me around before, and that he enjoyed my music,” Jin laughs, “And we started talking about where we were from. We realized we were from nearby prefectures, and being drunk, he started going on and on about his childhood, about his family and their stupid expectations and policies for being raised in a wealthy family,” pausing, Jin looks at Kame, “and you.”
Kame remains quiet, seemingly untouched.
Seeing this, Jin continues. “I’d heard the story before. My father told me about you - his business partner’s son; he ridiculed you, told me not to be like you, though I still kind of ended up so, huh?” With a quirk of lips, Jin eyes Kame’s tightening expression. “Secretly, though, I admired you. I admired you for being able to gather up the courage to run away, to be independent of your father’s will. You left to be what you wanted, to love who you wanted, regardless if they loved you back or not.”
“Not,” is Kame’s only answer, but Jin ignores it, pursing his lips.
“So when Pi told me about you, I realized he was the guy on the other side of the story. And then when you came the other day, I recognized your surname. How many Kamenashi’s could there be in the world? I thought maybe you were a cousin or brother, and I couldn’t jump to conclusions. But when Pi came…” Jin trails off haltingly, observing Kame’s unidentifiable reaction. “You know the rest.”
Slowly, Kame nods, words forming in curves on his lips. “I knew who your father was,” he whispers, “when I looked down at the paper. I couldn’t believe it. Here was the business partner, the figure in the shadows I’d hated since childhood, the thing that I used to think kept my father from caring about me. He was always on the phone with yours, talking about their stupid stocks and monetary losses and how to patch it back together, how to become more successful than they were.” Shaking his head, Kame presses his lips together. “He never told me anything about your family, though. All I knew was that your mother had died early, before I was born.”
Jin nods in quiet understanding. “You had no idea who I was.”
“I knew there was a rock star named Akanishi Jin, but to make the connection, I couldn’t have fathomed.” Biting his lip, Kame tilts his head. “I know Akanishi isn’t exactly a common surname, but,” he pauses, “it wouldn’t click, you know? I ran away before you did, so I never heard about it. I thought it was just a mere coincidence of name.”
“What about Pi? You lost contact?”
Kame’s eyes turn rigid, cold. “I didn’t try to keep it,” he replies. “I wanted to start anew, to forget about everything from my old life. I wanted to forget how he rejected me because of his parents’ wishes, the way he wouldn’t look at me, wouldn’t talk to me in school. I wanted to forget my father’s accusations, the smirk imprinted on my stepmother’s face when she heard. More inheritance for her if my father hated me, clearly. I left my brothers, too, three of them. Baseball was the only thing I kept from my past.” With a sad smile, he turns to Jin. “And I threw that away, too, after my father died.”
“Why?”
Raking a hand through his hair, Kame sighs. “I blamed myself. When I got to the hospital, he was already pronounced dead. Maybe I could have helped if I’d been something useful, like a doctor, I thought. I’d never regretted running away before, but,” he exhales shakily. “But.”
“But he wrote out a will,” Jin finishes, “addressed to my father, and on that will, he gave you your equal share, with a note at the bottom that asked for your forgiveness.”
Eyes widening, Kame raises his head. “How did you know?”
“Reio told me. He also told me you were probably coming to find me. He was suspicious about who you were, but he didn’t want to conclude too quickly.”
Absorbing the information, Kame nods quietly, just as the snack cart stops in front of their seats. “Snacks, gentlemen?” The attendant is an old, curly-haired man, uniform pressed against his large belly. With an altogether too brilliant smile, Kame politely shakes his head in refusal. Jin echoes, in a murmur, his “thank you.”
When the attendant departs, they are left in an overhanging silence, the only sound between them the chugging of the train on the tracks below. Finally, Jin clears his throat, smoothing fingertips over the worn denim of his jeans before turning to Kame. “I’m glad you came to find me,” he confides, and watches the shift of Kame’s legs, the hesitant curve of Kame’s neck as brown eyes come to rest on his own.
“Me too,” comes the reverent, serene reply. “I want you to fix your mistakes while you still have a chance.”
---
A few hours later find Kame asleep, body still uncomfortably upright and head threatening to lower to the side. Glancing over, Jin watches as Kame struggles, in his half-awake state, to keep sitting up, too stubborn to depend on anything to pillow his head.
After a couple more minutes of watching Kame’s inner struggle between letting himself be and risking letting his head droop, Jin inches over, ever so cautiously draping an arm around the younger man’s shoulders. He feels Kame’s muscles stiffen beneath his touch, hands reaching up to push at his chest.
“Stop it,” Jin whispers calmly, catching Kame’s cold, stubby hands in his own and bravely closing the distance between Kame’s head and his own shoulder. “It’s okay.”
It takes another five minutes before Kame finally releases his tension, head settling in the crook of Jin’s shoulder and breaths steadying. Closing his eyes, Jin breathes out relief that there are no fans or paparazzi on board, and fights back the indescribable, strong urge to smile.
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 Chapter Two l Chapter Three l
A/N: Figured again that I like to write when I'm sick. Hopefully this chapter clears a lot of things up, because I feel bad for being so ~suspenseful~ and everybody's getting confused on me, haha. I hope I'm not moving too quickly through this; I don't want to draw it out too long. Enjoy! Comments are, of course, always appreciated. ♥
Chapter Four--
A sleek, black car pulls up to the curb as soon as he arrives at the entrance to the apartment building, tires squeaking to a halt on the newly renovated pavement. As Kame watches in curiosity, the back door swings open, barely missing a nearby pillar by a mere centimeter as Jin’s head pokes out, shades covering the upper half of his face. “Hop in,” his smile is too contagious for so early in the morning.
Instead of complying, though, Kame takes a step back. “You’re kidding, right?”
Adopting a confused look, Jin slides halfway out the door, his feet landing on the pavement. “What do you mean?”
Kame folds his arms primly over his chest, an action that doesn’t suit his casual, jeans and long-sleeves outfit quite well. Noticing this, Jin’s lips quirk, but Kame fails to acknowledge his amusement. “Akanishi, the train station is two blocks away. You can’t possibly expect to make your chauffeur drive only two damn blocks because you refuse to get off your lazy butt and breathe in some fresh air.”
“Actually, that’s exactly what I planned to do.” Jin leans forward on his elbows. “Unless you’d like hordes of screaming girls to come swarming around you and snap flashes of pictures in your face, Kamenashi?”
Unconvinced, Kame just looks at him. “Don’t act so smug. Even your ridiculous fans have lives, Akanishi. It’s four-thirty in the morning; I doubt anybody is willing to get up just to see your face out in the dark.” Pursing his lips, he adds, “Anyways, personally, I’d rather walk.”
Sighing, Jin runs a hand through his hair. “I didn’t think you’d be this stubborn, even at such early hours in the morning.”
It’s Kame’s turn to smirk. “Well, get used to it.” He turns on his heel, swiftly sidestepping the edge of the curb before moving back towards the center of the sidewalk, hair blowing back slightly in the soft breeze. Jin watches his retreating back for a few moments, still rendered speechless (either by the confrontation, or the figure in front of him, he’s starting to become a bit unsure). When he regains his senses, though, he stands up instantly, slamming the door closed and waving his bodyguard away, whom is regarding him with a stiff, questioning look.
“I’ll walk,” he says curtly, “no need to follow.” He doesn’t wait for the sound of the engine starting before he is already halfway down the sidewalk, running to catch up with Kame’s brisk, professional walking speed. When he does, Kame only chances him a sideways glance, smile flashing at lightning speed at the corners of his lips.
“You know,” Jin starts, after they’ve walked for a brief silence, “You seem to like underestimating people. Like, for instance, how do you know I won’t be spotted by some fan hiding in the shadows?”
Without breaking his step, Kame arches an eyebrow. “Are your fans really that sketchy?”
Jin shrugs. “You never know,” he replies honestly, the words registering only a moment later. He turns to face Kame, indignant. “Hey! Are you saying I’m appreciated by only sketchy people?”
At this, Kame laughs (it’s a surprisingly exhilarating sensation, considering he doesn’t really laugh often). “You said it yourself, Akanishi,” he throws over his shoulder, hesitating slightly to wait for Jin to fall back in step with him. The other does so, albeit reluctantly, and Kame looks to see a pout forming on his lips. “Oh, you’re such a child.”
Just as Jin opens his mouth to retort, facing halfway towards Kame, he freezes, eyes widening. “Kamenashi,” he says quietly, and before Kame can turn to see what he’s looking at, there’s a hand gripping his wrist, fingers tight and warmly pressed into his skin. “Run!”
Kame does as he’s told, almost afraid to see what the commotion is about (he guesses it’s the fans he was doubting so much, though). He follows Jin’s flying figure ahead of him, hair whipping back into his face and scarf untying to trail behind him in loose, wispy curls of fabric. They run for what seems like ages, passing by blurs of cars and traffic lights until finally, Jin tugs him into the entryway of the train station, stumbling over laughter and marble steps.
“Did we lose them?” Breathless, Kame moves to pull his hand back, but is surprised when Jin only tightens the grip, fingers curling in the same way his lips are forming a smile.
“Gotcha,” smugly, Jin squeezes his wrist once, before letting go of his own accord. “You should have seen your face.”
The realization slowly dawns upon Kame, his expression morphing into one of shock. “You did not,” he sputters, averting his gaze when Jin gives him a sweet, innocent smile. “Akanishi! I really thought there were fans at our heel.”
“I know you did,” with a full-out laugh and sparkling eyes, Jin bounds forward into the train station, and Kame can’t do anything but follow along, still in his hurt pride. “Oh, lighten up, Kamenashi. It was all in good fun.”
Huffing, Kame shoves his hands into his pockets, refusing to look Jin in the eye. “Next time, remind me not to go off and look for a childish, immature rock star, of all people,” he mutters, more to himself than anyone, but Jin turns in reply anyway. Head still lowered, Kame doesn’t notice until he bumps into Jin, toes stubbing Jin’s sneakers and causing him to lose his balance. Just as he begins to fall, though, an arm snakes around his waist, catching him midair.
Opening his eyes, Kame finds Jin’s face in an all too close proximity. Startled, he immediately pushes away, breaking free of Jin’s grasp and brushing himself off (and pretending, in vain, that his cheeks aren’t starting to burn). “Way to make me feel like a girl and an idiot all in one morning, Akanishi.”
“Thanks a lot,” shooting a successful grin, Jin tilts his head. “And don’t worry, I’ll make sure you don’t go off and look for anybody ever again.”
Kame blinks, standing completely still to try and absorb the comment. He isn’t given much time, though, before Jin has already moved ahead, weaving through the increasing crowd of people migrating up the stairs to the second floor to buy tickets. Frowning, Kame jogs to catch up, lowering his head into the collar of his jacket when Jin flicks a glance back at him to check.
(The warmth that rises inside of him is careful and soft, and he’s not sure quite what to make of it.)
---
By the time he reaches the booth, Jin is already waving a pair of tickets at him, hood tossed over his hair and eyes gleaming. Kame rolls his eyes, bounding over to snatch a ticket from Jin’s grip. “Trust you to make yourself noticeable,” he mutters, tugging the older man along when a few girls nearby shoot Jin a suspicious glancing over.
“Why so serious?” Jin lets himself be dragged to the platform, only wrenching free when Kame releases his wrist to step inside the car of the train. “Last row,” he says in Kame’s ear as the attendant checks their tickets, giving them a small, polite smile before shooing them in.
Nonchalantly, Kame moves down the aisle, Jin at his heels. He lets Jin slide into the window seat in order to keep his identity unknown, and immediately sits down right after, blocking Jin from the aisle’s view. The other passengers aren’t taking much notice anyway; most of them are middle-aged office workers nursing mugs of coffee with eyes solely focused on the newspaper. After chancing a look around, Kame breathes a sigh of relief, turning to see Jin drawing random sketches on the condensation of the window.
They both don’t speak for a while, Kame’s eyes flickering as he leans back to look diagonally out the window, into the distance. The train engine begins to hum, a low vibration working its way into the ground beneath their feet as the whistle sounds. Closing his eyes, Kame tilts his head upwards.
“I have a question,” Jin’s voice startles him from his reverie, and his eyes flutter open to see the other’s attention now directed on him, eyes deep and dark in the shadow of the overhead shelf. “I know it seems random, but I just kept thinking about it.”
Shrugging, Kame turns to face the aisle, watches a baby drowsing in the seat nearby. “Shoot,” he says, figuring it can’t get much worse than an inquiry about Yamapi.
Instead, though, Jin turns to a completely different topic. “You know how you said your mother called you when your father died?” He waits for the significant stiffening of the contours of Kame’s back, the way he turns back slowly, nodding. “So she knew where you were? But she never cared to contact you for the five years before that?”
Kame’s eyes lock with Jin’s, immobile for a few seconds before the older man looks away, clearly uncomfortable. “Sorry. Shouldn’t have asked.”
“She wasn’t my real mother.”
At this, Jin flicks his gaze back on Kame. “Stepmother,” he says carefully, and waits for the affirmation. “No wonder.”
Kame shifts as the train begins to roll forward, the plastered signs and advertisements outside in the station blurring together through their window-view. “All she wanted was the money after he died,” he relates quietly, barely audible above the low murmur of the engine. “Not that it was surprising.”
When Jin shoots him an unreadable glance, he sighs. “Really, Akanishi? I would have thought Yamashita spilled everything to you.” His eyes glaze over slightly. “He tends to do that with people he trusts.”
“I’m sure you would know,” Jin clears his throat, relaxing into the corner where his seat meets the window. “He told me,” he clarifies when Kame gives him a questioning look. “He was just very vague about you in general, though.”
With a short laugh, Kame crosses his arms. “So now you’re expecting me to tell you my whole pathetic life story?”
Jin attempts a shrug. “I said I wanted to get to know you better.” When Kame doesn’t reply, he furrows his brows. “Unless you don’t want to tell, of course.”
Silently, Kame stares at him for a while, eyes measured. “Okay,” he agrees finally, to Jin’s genuine surprise. “But it’s not going to be pretty.”
“I wouldn’t expect any less.”
Sucking in a deep breath, Kame gives him a brief, reluctant glance. “Actually, how about you go first?”
Shooting him a grin, Jin turns to face him fully. “I knew you were going to say that.”
“Why not, Akanishi?”
Pausing, Jin bites his lip, tilting his head to observe Kame’s obviously reluctant-to-tell expression. “Okay,” he agrees, more easily than Kame, though still cautious. His fingers drum restlessly against the windowpane, bangs falling in a sweep over his eyes. “You live where I grew up. My mother died when I was three, so I can’t remember her.” He waits for a moment. “My father was always busy. He never told me what he did for a living, and I never asked. All I knew was that it was important, that he cared about it more than he cared about me and Reio, and that he worked with another by the name of Kamenashi.”
Kame freezes, clear images of his dream resounding in his mind. “You knew,” he whispers when Jin regards him with a contemplating look, obviously expecting his reaction. “You knew?” His voice rises up into a question involuntarily, barely managing to miss cracking in surprise.
“I knew,” Jin confirms, and his smile is tentative. “When you first told me your name, I was surprised. I thought it was such a crazy coincidence; it couldn’t be true.” He hesitates. “When I first met Yamapi, it was at a bar. He was drunk, barely standing, and remorsefully repeating some girl’s name whom had just dumped him because he was too busy with his work and never spent time with her.” Shrugging at Kame’s raise of eyebrows, Jin continues. “I knew who he was; I’d seen his name around, but the model agencies and music industry don’t mix for the most part.”
“He’s a model now,” Kame deciphers, and Jin nods.
“He almost got into a brawl, but I pulled him out and tried to help him get home, since he was a familiar face and all, and it didn’t seem like anybody else was willing to help. I managed to get him into a taxi, swaying and all. He said he’d seen me around before, and that he enjoyed my music,” Jin laughs, “And we started talking about where we were from. We realized we were from nearby prefectures, and being drunk, he started going on and on about his childhood, about his family and their stupid expectations and policies for being raised in a wealthy family,” pausing, Jin looks at Kame, “and you.”
Kame remains quiet, seemingly untouched.
Seeing this, Jin continues. “I’d heard the story before. My father told me about you - his business partner’s son; he ridiculed you, told me not to be like you, though I still kind of ended up so, huh?” With a quirk of lips, Jin eyes Kame’s tightening expression. “Secretly, though, I admired you. I admired you for being able to gather up the courage to run away, to be independent of your father’s will. You left to be what you wanted, to love who you wanted, regardless if they loved you back or not.”
“Not,” is Kame’s only answer, but Jin ignores it, pursing his lips.
“So when Pi told me about you, I realized he was the guy on the other side of the story. And then when you came the other day, I recognized your surname. How many Kamenashi’s could there be in the world? I thought maybe you were a cousin or brother, and I couldn’t jump to conclusions. But when Pi came…” Jin trails off haltingly, observing Kame’s unidentifiable reaction. “You know the rest.”
Slowly, Kame nods, words forming in curves on his lips. “I knew who your father was,” he whispers, “when I looked down at the paper. I couldn’t believe it. Here was the business partner, the figure in the shadows I’d hated since childhood, the thing that I used to think kept my father from caring about me. He was always on the phone with yours, talking about their stupid stocks and monetary losses and how to patch it back together, how to become more successful than they were.” Shaking his head, Kame presses his lips together. “He never told me anything about your family, though. All I knew was that your mother had died early, before I was born.”
Jin nods in quiet understanding. “You had no idea who I was.”
“I knew there was a rock star named Akanishi Jin, but to make the connection, I couldn’t have fathomed.” Biting his lip, Kame tilts his head. “I know Akanishi isn’t exactly a common surname, but,” he pauses, “it wouldn’t click, you know? I ran away before you did, so I never heard about it. I thought it was just a mere coincidence of name.”
“What about Pi? You lost contact?”
Kame’s eyes turn rigid, cold. “I didn’t try to keep it,” he replies. “I wanted to start anew, to forget about everything from my old life. I wanted to forget how he rejected me because of his parents’ wishes, the way he wouldn’t look at me, wouldn’t talk to me in school. I wanted to forget my father’s accusations, the smirk imprinted on my stepmother’s face when she heard. More inheritance for her if my father hated me, clearly. I left my brothers, too, three of them. Baseball was the only thing I kept from my past.” With a sad smile, he turns to Jin. “And I threw that away, too, after my father died.”
“Why?”
Raking a hand through his hair, Kame sighs. “I blamed myself. When I got to the hospital, he was already pronounced dead. Maybe I could have helped if I’d been something useful, like a doctor, I thought. I’d never regretted running away before, but,” he exhales shakily. “But.”
“But he wrote out a will,” Jin finishes, “addressed to my father, and on that will, he gave you your equal share, with a note at the bottom that asked for your forgiveness.”
Eyes widening, Kame raises his head. “How did you know?”
“Reio told me. He also told me you were probably coming to find me. He was suspicious about who you were, but he didn’t want to conclude too quickly.”
Absorbing the information, Kame nods quietly, just as the snack cart stops in front of their seats. “Snacks, gentlemen?” The attendant is an old, curly-haired man, uniform pressed against his large belly. With an altogether too brilliant smile, Kame politely shakes his head in refusal. Jin echoes, in a murmur, his “thank you.”
When the attendant departs, they are left in an overhanging silence, the only sound between them the chugging of the train on the tracks below. Finally, Jin clears his throat, smoothing fingertips over the worn denim of his jeans before turning to Kame. “I’m glad you came to find me,” he confides, and watches the shift of Kame’s legs, the hesitant curve of Kame’s neck as brown eyes come to rest on his own.
“Me too,” comes the reverent, serene reply. “I want you to fix your mistakes while you still have a chance.”
---
A few hours later find Kame asleep, body still uncomfortably upright and head threatening to lower to the side. Glancing over, Jin watches as Kame struggles, in his half-awake state, to keep sitting up, too stubborn to depend on anything to pillow his head.
After a couple more minutes of watching Kame’s inner struggle between letting himself be and risking letting his head droop, Jin inches over, ever so cautiously draping an arm around the younger man’s shoulders. He feels Kame’s muscles stiffen beneath his touch, hands reaching up to push at his chest.
“Stop it,” Jin whispers calmly, catching Kame’s cold, stubby hands in his own and bravely closing the distance between Kame’s head and his own shoulder. “It’s okay.”
It takes another five minutes before Kame finally releases his tension, head settling in the crook of Jin’s shoulder and breaths steadying. Closing his eyes, Jin breathes out relief that there are no fans or paparazzi on board, and fights back the indescribable, strong urge to smile.