FIC FOR KRYSYUY
For: krysyuy
From: uepixie
Title: Disposable
Pairings/Characters: Kamenashi/Taguchi; implied past Akanishi/Taguchi
Rating: G
Warnings: AU
Notes: Hey krysyuy! This pairing was an interesting challenge for me so I really hope you like the result ^^
Summary: Kamenashi works at a photography store, selling cameras and developing prints. A story begins to unfold before him, but will he remain detached or find himself involved?
With the technological age well and truly here, people always seemed rather surprised whenever Kamenashi mentioned the part of his job that involved developing. There's still a demand for that kind of thing, Kamenashi-kun? they would ask, innocently surprised. I would have thought that all the digital cameras and cellphones that take pictures would have lessened the need for actual photographs…
Mmm, quite a lot, he would acknowledge with a nod, a shrug. But lots of people still get their photographs printed and developed like before. It's reassuring in a way, isn't it? To have a tangible photograph - something to hold, or tuck in a wallet, or display in a frame… There's something more reassuring about that than temporary pixels on a screen, isn't there?
One of the more occasionally-humorous parts of his job was the quality control. It wasn't like he deliberately looked through people's photographs to laugh at their awkward shots or pry into their lives. But, since a check-through was necessary (to make sure that no shots came out all in bizarre shades of blue, or to check that the police didn't need alerting over illegal activities), Kamenashi couldn't help but occasionally be entertained. Parties where the birthday person had their face covered in cake, people making stupid expressions, snaps made deliberately to entertain; more often than not Kamenashi found himself smiling back at the smiles in the photographs despite not knowing their stories, not knowing their names.
Not that it was always something worth smiling at. There were plenty of times Kamenashi had checked through photographs of car crashes, of ruined buildings and machines, of broken glass and injured faces printed in duplicate for the insurance forms, for evidence. It was times like those that Kamenashi's jaw tensed and his lips pressed together in a thin line, OK, next. OK, next. OK, next.
Some of the faces became familiar, after a while. Since Kamenashi alternated his shifts between the processing labs and the shop front, there were moments when the distinction between 'faces on paper' and 'faces in the flesh' became blurred. There was a grandmother who would get two rolls of 35mm film developed every month after her family came to visit, and the shots would always be of children eating, of people smiling at the beach or the forest or in a restaurant. On days like those Kamenashi would drop by his grandparents' place on the way home and bring them extra groceries so they wouldn't have to carry as much back from the store. There were others, too - smiling couples wanting reprints of their wedding snaps to redistribute among friends, proud parents wanting high-quality enlargements of their child's graduation photos, and so on. On the whole, Kamenashi liked his job. Any excuse to play with cameras and prints all day was fine by him.
It wasn't that he'd intended to follow the progression of their relationship through their photographs. More, they were the only couple who regularly used disposable cameras and got the films developed at Kamenashi's store. Kamenashi had sort of smiled a little, the first time - he recognised one of the men as being that pop-r'n'b singer who'd released the love song that had been played to death a couple of years back, and marvelled at their trust in bringing private photographs to be developed at a regular store. He was honoured, too, and therefore took extra care in ensuring they came out perfectly.
When they came back a second time, and a third time, with their cheap disposable camera filled with thirty-six pictures of each other, that Kamenashi began to spot a pattern. This set were all in Okinawa, this set from Hokkaido, and these - judging by the foreign signs and different faces - were from somewhere sunny and warm, in America. These ones were from in and around Tokyo - there were the lights on the Rainbow Bridge, and that was definitely a view from up Tokyo Tower - and those ones were at Nara, with the little deer slightly blurred every other shot. Sometimes the pictures would be of strange things, especially near the end of the roll - closeups of each others' faces grinning ridiculously behind baseball caps and sunglasses, or blurry shots from out of the window of a moving train - and little by little, Kamenashi understood. Every time those two went on a trip together, or a date somewhere, they'd take one disposable camera and fill it until the last exposure was used. Neither Kamenashi nor his boss ever mentioned their celebrity customers, and so to Kamenashi it felt a little like his own secret: something that made him smile in the privacy of the lab, something that made his heart lift a little every time the jangle of the bell announced the arrival of a new customer.
After more than a year of this, the disposable cameras stopped arriving. Kamenashi was disappointed for a while; far more than he would ever let on. He didn't care about celebrity, not particularly - he had famous friends himself and the novelty had worn off after Miyao's first drama and the subsequent fan-stalking. Rather, it was the places they visited, the times they spent together, the feeling of genuine happy from every shot that Kamenashi missed. He missed them.
Three months later, one more camera came. Kamenashi was manning the front desk that day, and seeing the tall figure enter the store made his heart flutter and rise in his chest. "Good afternoon, sir." The customary speech rolled from his lips as easy as breathing. "How can I help you today?"
The tall man set the black plastic casing down on the desk. "Just this for developing, please."
Kamenashi filled in the form - Family name: TAGUCHI. Contact telephone number: 03-xxxx-xxxx. Date of receipt: 2011-01-27. Photo type: 12.7 x 17.8. Expected completion date: 2011/01/30.
Taguchi grinned, an unexpected flash of white teeth. "You remembered I have mine printed that size! But I've not been here for months. You… This place really gives excellent customer service, ne…"
Kamenashi ducked his head, pleased to have his work recognised. "Our customers are important to us." He handed over the reminder slip with the store's contact information. "Please don't hesitate to call us if you have any queries. Your photographs will be ready to collect in three days." His lips curved in a half-smile: friendly without being too familiar. The height of professionalism.
"Got it," Taguchi said, with another grin. "See you in a few days then, Kamenashi-san. Ja~"
Kamenashi found himself smiling even after the door closed.
The r'n'b singer wasn't in these photographs, Kamenashi realised as he okayed the sets in the queue for checking. These were all shots of landscapes, buildings, unfamiliar faces and the occasional awkward shot of Taguchi's face too close to the camera, smile and peace sign blurred. He almost hadn't realised that these were Taguchi's photographs; the mood was so different somehow. Kamenashi tried to place his finger on it. Not lonely, not sad, nothing like that… just… a little distant? Kamenashi looked at the photograph of Taguchi crouching next to an elderly fisherman, holding up their fish and smiling - one smile fresh and white, the other crooked with age. There was something closed-off about the expression on Taguchi's face. OK, next. Kamenashi wasn't sure what to think. He felt inexplicably sad. OK, next.
Taguchi came by the store on the afternoon of the thirty-first, pulling the crisply-folded reminder slip from his wallet as soon as he approached the counter. "I hope they're as fantastic as always," he grinned. Kamenashi bowed, unlocking the drawer and reaching for the divider marked 'Ta'. That same distance was on Taguchi's face even up close; a tiny tightness around his eyes, his smile not quite wide enough. Kamenashi wondered how it was that he could tell so easily.
Straightening, he placed the cardboard wallet on the counter and slid it towards Taguchi. "I hope you are happy with your pictures, Taguchi-san." Something made him look up then, seeking unnecessary eye contact, but Taguchi was looking down at the photographs. Their fingers brushed against each other's lightly as Taguchi picked them up and tucked them inside the breast pocket of his coat.
Taguchi looked up then, the tightness in his eyes softening as he caught Kamenashi's gaze. "Thank you," he said, and left.
When Kamenashi discovered that Taguchi was a model, he felt chronically stupid for not having realised before. He never looked at the massive billboards and flashing signs, not really, not properly, so when he left Shibuya station and found himself confronted with Taguchi's face and torso, impossibly large, on a Calvin Klein billboard right by the Hachiko crossing he stopped dead and was subsequently nearly knocked over.
"Watch it!" a voice called out, and Kamenashi startled, calling back an apology and retreating to the side of the street, closest to the nearest shop wall. That was definitely him up there. Taguchi. Taguchi, with his broad, bare chest, and brooding stare and mouth set into a sultry pout.
Kamenashi suddenly felt awkward, without really understanding why. The man on the board up there in black and white, and the man with the dorky smile that practically consumed his face… they were the same, but they weren't the same. There was a whole life, a separate life, in front of a totally different camera.
For all that he thought he understood about the man, Kamenashi realised, he didn't really know anything about Taguchi at all.
Not that this turned out particularly to be a problem, in the end. A week went by, then a month, then three months, then half a year and still Taguchi did not return to Kamenashi's workplace. Kamenashi felt strangely glad that he knew about Taguchi's line of work, because every time he was able to see the man's face on adverts for Givenchy, Calvin Klein, Armani and the like, he knew that Taguchi was still around, still working. It reassured him, in a way; he felt a strange fondness for the model that he would never have been able to explain.
Work carried on as usual. Kamenashi continued to save up for the expensive things he wanted, and every month he went to help his grandparents with their groceries. He took a small holiday during Golden Week and went to see Miyao's new ballet, and to visit his brother's family. His niece was growing up fast, and he let her take a few clumsy snaps with the disposable camera he'd brought with him. He didn't take many other pictures with it, though. It felt a little insincere, somehow; a bit like cheating.
Spring rolled into Summer, which drifted lazily into Fall as the seasons tend to do. Kamenashi found himself looking forward to the Winter fashion shoots hitting the magazines and billboards; he'd missed Junnosuke's face - no, Taguchi, he corrected himself with a frown. When had that happened? Kamenashi shook his head as he dusted the display cabinets, taking care to make sure everything looked as attractive as possible. It was true, they now sold far more digital cameras than ever before, and the demand for regular development was almost nonexistent, but…
"Excuse me," a voice said, and Kamenashi started, closing the display cabinet and turning around.
"I'm sorry," he bowed, "I didn't hear you enter, how can I…"
"Hi," Taguchi grinned, and Kamenashi didn't realise that he had automatically smiled back at Taguchi's free, happy expression until Taguchi's smile brightened further still. "It's been a while since I was here last, huh."
"Taguchi-san!" Kamenashi was aware that he may be too informal, too forward, but he couldn't bring himself to care. "It's been ages! How are y-- How can I help you?" He moved towards the counter, automatically reaching for the papers to register a disposable camera for developing.
"Ah," Taguchi shook his head. "I don't want to develop anything today," he said, "I want advice on the best camera to actually buy." He grinned at Kamenashi's politely blank look as he internalised this. "I've decided to graduate from disposable cameras," he explained. "I figure it's time to get something a little more… permanent. Photography seems like a good hobby to take up, right?"
They spent quite some time going through the different cameras on offer; Kamenashi had assumed Taguchi would want a simple point-and-shoot affair, but no - Taguchi wanted to learn how to do things 'properly', and with the range of equipment on offer this quickly ate into their afternoon.
"You see, my job involves cameras," Taguchi explained, peering through the glass of one of the display cases. "I've been on the other end of the lens for years now, since I was a kid even, but never took the time to properly understand how they worked from the technical side." He pressed his lips together thoughtfully, before turning to Kamenashi. "Ne, Kazuya," he said - how they had gone from 'Kamenashi' to 'Kazuya' in less than an hour was still a blur - "will you be my tutor?"
"…?" Kamenashi was politely puzzled.
"Like… No, that's wrong. Ahh…" He rubbed at his neck. "This is so bad…"
"Taguchi-san, are you alright?" Kamenashi began to grow a little concerned.
"No, I mean… If I get a real camera, a digital one, that… I wouldn't have to come back here any more, would I."
Kamenashi stopped, heart sinking. "Well, I suppose not," he acknowledged, grinding the words out. "Unless you wanted to buy our specialist paper for home printing…"
"But that's not what I want," Taguchi said, fixing Kamenashi with an intense gaze like he was trying to convey his thoughts telepathically. "I want to take pictures with you. Like, going to different places, and taking pictures, and."
Kamenashi blinked. He understood - he thought he understood, but… "Me?"
"I mean," Taguchi started to ramble, "I know we don't know each other and you probably forgot all about me and I haven't been here in ages, but you were always, you've always been so… so… and I want to take pictures with you. And maybe…" He rallied a little, voice gaining strength, "Maybe it could… develop… from there."
It was one of the most lame things Kamenashi had ever heard - and he was friends with Miyao, so that said a lot - and yet, at the same time, it was something he'd never realised he'd wanted to hear so much until that precise moment.
"That," he struggled not to smile and failed entirely. "That would be nice. I'd like that very much."
Something a little more permanent, Taguchi had said. It was too soon to speculate, perhaps, but as they exchanged details and arranged to meet up later that day, Kamenashi hoped that maybe this would turn into something real, after all.
~end~
From: uepixie
Title: Disposable
Pairings/Characters: Kamenashi/Taguchi; implied past Akanishi/Taguchi
Rating: G
Warnings: AU
Notes: Hey krysyuy! This pairing was an interesting challenge for me so I really hope you like the result ^^
Summary: Kamenashi works at a photography store, selling cameras and developing prints. A story begins to unfold before him, but will he remain detached or find himself involved?
With the technological age well and truly here, people always seemed rather surprised whenever Kamenashi mentioned the part of his job that involved developing. There's still a demand for that kind of thing, Kamenashi-kun? they would ask, innocently surprised. I would have thought that all the digital cameras and cellphones that take pictures would have lessened the need for actual photographs…
Mmm, quite a lot, he would acknowledge with a nod, a shrug. But lots of people still get their photographs printed and developed like before. It's reassuring in a way, isn't it? To have a tangible photograph - something to hold, or tuck in a wallet, or display in a frame… There's something more reassuring about that than temporary pixels on a screen, isn't there?
One of the more occasionally-humorous parts of his job was the quality control. It wasn't like he deliberately looked through people's photographs to laugh at their awkward shots or pry into their lives. But, since a check-through was necessary (to make sure that no shots came out all in bizarre shades of blue, or to check that the police didn't need alerting over illegal activities), Kamenashi couldn't help but occasionally be entertained. Parties where the birthday person had their face covered in cake, people making stupid expressions, snaps made deliberately to entertain; more often than not Kamenashi found himself smiling back at the smiles in the photographs despite not knowing their stories, not knowing their names.
Not that it was always something worth smiling at. There were plenty of times Kamenashi had checked through photographs of car crashes, of ruined buildings and machines, of broken glass and injured faces printed in duplicate for the insurance forms, for evidence. It was times like those that Kamenashi's jaw tensed and his lips pressed together in a thin line, OK, next. OK, next. OK, next.
Some of the faces became familiar, after a while. Since Kamenashi alternated his shifts between the processing labs and the shop front, there were moments when the distinction between 'faces on paper' and 'faces in the flesh' became blurred. There was a grandmother who would get two rolls of 35mm film developed every month after her family came to visit, and the shots would always be of children eating, of people smiling at the beach or the forest or in a restaurant. On days like those Kamenashi would drop by his grandparents' place on the way home and bring them extra groceries so they wouldn't have to carry as much back from the store. There were others, too - smiling couples wanting reprints of their wedding snaps to redistribute among friends, proud parents wanting high-quality enlargements of their child's graduation photos, and so on. On the whole, Kamenashi liked his job. Any excuse to play with cameras and prints all day was fine by him.
It wasn't that he'd intended to follow the progression of their relationship through their photographs. More, they were the only couple who regularly used disposable cameras and got the films developed at Kamenashi's store. Kamenashi had sort of smiled a little, the first time - he recognised one of the men as being that pop-r'n'b singer who'd released the love song that had been played to death a couple of years back, and marvelled at their trust in bringing private photographs to be developed at a regular store. He was honoured, too, and therefore took extra care in ensuring they came out perfectly.
When they came back a second time, and a third time, with their cheap disposable camera filled with thirty-six pictures of each other, that Kamenashi began to spot a pattern. This set were all in Okinawa, this set from Hokkaido, and these - judging by the foreign signs and different faces - were from somewhere sunny and warm, in America. These ones were from in and around Tokyo - there were the lights on the Rainbow Bridge, and that was definitely a view from up Tokyo Tower - and those ones were at Nara, with the little deer slightly blurred every other shot. Sometimes the pictures would be of strange things, especially near the end of the roll - closeups of each others' faces grinning ridiculously behind baseball caps and sunglasses, or blurry shots from out of the window of a moving train - and little by little, Kamenashi understood. Every time those two went on a trip together, or a date somewhere, they'd take one disposable camera and fill it until the last exposure was used. Neither Kamenashi nor his boss ever mentioned their celebrity customers, and so to Kamenashi it felt a little like his own secret: something that made him smile in the privacy of the lab, something that made his heart lift a little every time the jangle of the bell announced the arrival of a new customer.
After more than a year of this, the disposable cameras stopped arriving. Kamenashi was disappointed for a while; far more than he would ever let on. He didn't care about celebrity, not particularly - he had famous friends himself and the novelty had worn off after Miyao's first drama and the subsequent fan-stalking. Rather, it was the places they visited, the times they spent together, the feeling of genuine happy from every shot that Kamenashi missed. He missed them.
Three months later, one more camera came. Kamenashi was manning the front desk that day, and seeing the tall figure enter the store made his heart flutter and rise in his chest. "Good afternoon, sir." The customary speech rolled from his lips as easy as breathing. "How can I help you today?"
The tall man set the black plastic casing down on the desk. "Just this for developing, please."
Kamenashi filled in the form - Family name: TAGUCHI. Contact telephone number: 03-xxxx-xxxx. Date of receipt: 2011-01-27. Photo type: 12.7 x 17.8. Expected completion date: 2011/01/30.
Taguchi grinned, an unexpected flash of white teeth. "You remembered I have mine printed that size! But I've not been here for months. You… This place really gives excellent customer service, ne…"
Kamenashi ducked his head, pleased to have his work recognised. "Our customers are important to us." He handed over the reminder slip with the store's contact information. "Please don't hesitate to call us if you have any queries. Your photographs will be ready to collect in three days." His lips curved in a half-smile: friendly without being too familiar. The height of professionalism.
"Got it," Taguchi said, with another grin. "See you in a few days then, Kamenashi-san. Ja~"
Kamenashi found himself smiling even after the door closed.
The r'n'b singer wasn't in these photographs, Kamenashi realised as he okayed the sets in the queue for checking. These were all shots of landscapes, buildings, unfamiliar faces and the occasional awkward shot of Taguchi's face too close to the camera, smile and peace sign blurred. He almost hadn't realised that these were Taguchi's photographs; the mood was so different somehow. Kamenashi tried to place his finger on it. Not lonely, not sad, nothing like that… just… a little distant? Kamenashi looked at the photograph of Taguchi crouching next to an elderly fisherman, holding up their fish and smiling - one smile fresh and white, the other crooked with age. There was something closed-off about the expression on Taguchi's face. OK, next. Kamenashi wasn't sure what to think. He felt inexplicably sad. OK, next.
Taguchi came by the store on the afternoon of the thirty-first, pulling the crisply-folded reminder slip from his wallet as soon as he approached the counter. "I hope they're as fantastic as always," he grinned. Kamenashi bowed, unlocking the drawer and reaching for the divider marked 'Ta'. That same distance was on Taguchi's face even up close; a tiny tightness around his eyes, his smile not quite wide enough. Kamenashi wondered how it was that he could tell so easily.
Straightening, he placed the cardboard wallet on the counter and slid it towards Taguchi. "I hope you are happy with your pictures, Taguchi-san." Something made him look up then, seeking unnecessary eye contact, but Taguchi was looking down at the photographs. Their fingers brushed against each other's lightly as Taguchi picked them up and tucked them inside the breast pocket of his coat.
Taguchi looked up then, the tightness in his eyes softening as he caught Kamenashi's gaze. "Thank you," he said, and left.
When Kamenashi discovered that Taguchi was a model, he felt chronically stupid for not having realised before. He never looked at the massive billboards and flashing signs, not really, not properly, so when he left Shibuya station and found himself confronted with Taguchi's face and torso, impossibly large, on a Calvin Klein billboard right by the Hachiko crossing he stopped dead and was subsequently nearly knocked over.
"Watch it!" a voice called out, and Kamenashi startled, calling back an apology and retreating to the side of the street, closest to the nearest shop wall. That was definitely him up there. Taguchi. Taguchi, with his broad, bare chest, and brooding stare and mouth set into a sultry pout.
Kamenashi suddenly felt awkward, without really understanding why. The man on the board up there in black and white, and the man with the dorky smile that practically consumed his face… they were the same, but they weren't the same. There was a whole life, a separate life, in front of a totally different camera.
For all that he thought he understood about the man, Kamenashi realised, he didn't really know anything about Taguchi at all.
Not that this turned out particularly to be a problem, in the end. A week went by, then a month, then three months, then half a year and still Taguchi did not return to Kamenashi's workplace. Kamenashi felt strangely glad that he knew about Taguchi's line of work, because every time he was able to see the man's face on adverts for Givenchy, Calvin Klein, Armani and the like, he knew that Taguchi was still around, still working. It reassured him, in a way; he felt a strange fondness for the model that he would never have been able to explain.
Work carried on as usual. Kamenashi continued to save up for the expensive things he wanted, and every month he went to help his grandparents with their groceries. He took a small holiday during Golden Week and went to see Miyao's new ballet, and to visit his brother's family. His niece was growing up fast, and he let her take a few clumsy snaps with the disposable camera he'd brought with him. He didn't take many other pictures with it, though. It felt a little insincere, somehow; a bit like cheating.
Spring rolled into Summer, which drifted lazily into Fall as the seasons tend to do. Kamenashi found himself looking forward to the Winter fashion shoots hitting the magazines and billboards; he'd missed Junnosuke's face - no, Taguchi, he corrected himself with a frown. When had that happened? Kamenashi shook his head as he dusted the display cabinets, taking care to make sure everything looked as attractive as possible. It was true, they now sold far more digital cameras than ever before, and the demand for regular development was almost nonexistent, but…
"Excuse me," a voice said, and Kamenashi started, closing the display cabinet and turning around.
"I'm sorry," he bowed, "I didn't hear you enter, how can I…"
"Hi," Taguchi grinned, and Kamenashi didn't realise that he had automatically smiled back at Taguchi's free, happy expression until Taguchi's smile brightened further still. "It's been a while since I was here last, huh."
"Taguchi-san!" Kamenashi was aware that he may be too informal, too forward, but he couldn't bring himself to care. "It's been ages! How are y-- How can I help you?" He moved towards the counter, automatically reaching for the papers to register a disposable camera for developing.
"Ah," Taguchi shook his head. "I don't want to develop anything today," he said, "I want advice on the best camera to actually buy." He grinned at Kamenashi's politely blank look as he internalised this. "I've decided to graduate from disposable cameras," he explained. "I figure it's time to get something a little more… permanent. Photography seems like a good hobby to take up, right?"
They spent quite some time going through the different cameras on offer; Kamenashi had assumed Taguchi would want a simple point-and-shoot affair, but no - Taguchi wanted to learn how to do things 'properly', and with the range of equipment on offer this quickly ate into their afternoon.
"You see, my job involves cameras," Taguchi explained, peering through the glass of one of the display cases. "I've been on the other end of the lens for years now, since I was a kid even, but never took the time to properly understand how they worked from the technical side." He pressed his lips together thoughtfully, before turning to Kamenashi. "Ne, Kazuya," he said - how they had gone from 'Kamenashi' to 'Kazuya' in less than an hour was still a blur - "will you be my tutor?"
"…?" Kamenashi was politely puzzled.
"Like… No, that's wrong. Ahh…" He rubbed at his neck. "This is so bad…"
"Taguchi-san, are you alright?" Kamenashi began to grow a little concerned.
"No, I mean… If I get a real camera, a digital one, that… I wouldn't have to come back here any more, would I."
Kamenashi stopped, heart sinking. "Well, I suppose not," he acknowledged, grinding the words out. "Unless you wanted to buy our specialist paper for home printing…"
"But that's not what I want," Taguchi said, fixing Kamenashi with an intense gaze like he was trying to convey his thoughts telepathically. "I want to take pictures with you. Like, going to different places, and taking pictures, and."
Kamenashi blinked. He understood - he thought he understood, but… "Me?"
"I mean," Taguchi started to ramble, "I know we don't know each other and you probably forgot all about me and I haven't been here in ages, but you were always, you've always been so… so… and I want to take pictures with you. And maybe…" He rallied a little, voice gaining strength, "Maybe it could… develop… from there."
It was one of the most lame things Kamenashi had ever heard - and he was friends with Miyao, so that said a lot - and yet, at the same time, it was something he'd never realised he'd wanted to hear so much until that precise moment.
"That," he struggled not to smile and failed entirely. "That would be nice. I'd like that very much."
Something a little more permanent, Taguchi had said. It was too soon to speculate, perhaps, but as they exchanged details and arranged to meet up later that day, Kamenashi hoped that maybe this would turn into something real, after all.
~end~