[Oneshot] Boxed Memories
The all-too-familiar sound of the packing tape being pulled off the roll cut through the quiet apartment. Yamapi was used to packing; used to moving. He’d spent his whole life going through the same process: unfold the box, square the edges, tape the bottom. Heavy things go in first, then the lighter things. Breakables get covered in bubble wrap, or, if he and his mom didn’t have money for such luxuries as bubble wrap, breakables get wrapped in old newspaper. It was always the same, sad procedure. Every time he’d get settled, they’d have to move again.
Yamapi hates packing, but he takes his time, making sure to look at each thing before carefully wrapping it and placing it in the box; awards he’s won, gifts he’s received, gifts he’s never given. He hates putting all these things away.
His life, at least for the past five years, has been chronicled in CDs. Each style and phase he went through can be seen on their covers. From the emaciated doe-eyed days of NewS Nippon to the days of Shuji to Akira (back when Ryo had enjoyed telling Pi both he and Jin were fat). The lonely days of Daite Senorita and Kitty GYM. His long hair for Hoshi wo Mezashite, his happiness that NewS was back, sadness at the loss of Uchi and Kusano. His amusement during Pacific and the intensity he had to show in his eyes for Taiyou no Namida. And finally Happy Birthday, where he’s at last comfortable with himself, with his success as an idol. His friends’ lives are likewise recorded on CDs and in magazines, but they had their own phases and feelings that Pi may or may not know about. So he studies the pictures, trying to figure out what they’re thinking, and he spends so long looking at their faces that by the time the CDs and magazines are safely packed, the light streaming into his window has taken on a harsh angle and he’s almost run out of time. He packs everything else faster, but just as carefully, absorbed in the task at hand, thinking absently about his last move.
It was a record four years ago, when he moved out of his mom’s house. It had been a sad move, marking the end of an era and the start of something entirely new and scary. He’d known his mom would cry, and known he would too, given the chance. So he’d gotten Jin to help him, knowing his pride would never let him cry in front of Bakanishi. As Yamapi and Jin had lifted the heavy boxes into Jin’s car, Yamapi’s mom and sister had leaned against the side of the house, watching with sad eyes. Pi hated that look and how it’d made him hate leaving them. As they drove away, Jin had squeezed Pi’s shoulder reassuringly, knowing how he felt like he was abandoning his family.
Now he doesn’t have anything to abandon except his memories. The scratch on the hardwood floor from moving in. The stain on the carpet in the living room from a spill during an intense game of Mario Kart. The small piece of scotch tape stuck on the kitchen doorway from mistletoe two Christmases ago. The dent in the bedroom door from a secret, angry reaction to the hiatus. The divots in the carpet from his couch, on which he slept almost as much as his bed, having many a time come home from a long day of work and not had the energy to make it to his bedroom. The genkan where he first shoved Jin against the door and kissed him. The corner of the bathroom he sat in for two days, crying after Jin left for America. The kitchen counter where they made love for the first time. He was leaving it all behind, and it felt like he was leaving a piece of himself in that apartment; leaving the best years of his life.
Yamapi hears a small knock on the front door, then the door opening and the quiet scuffle of shoes being toed off, the gentle padding of sock-clad feet walking down the hall. He hears the creak of the door frame as Jin lean against it, but he doesn’t turn around from the full box in front of him.
Pi feels Jin watch him, notice the slump of his shoulders, and he knows no words need to be said for Jin to know how he’s feeling.
“Aren’t you done yet?” Jin asks loudly, walking forward and pulling the pair of socks from Pi’s hands, shoving them haphazardly into the box. “Come on, I’m double parked.” He proceeds to grab the tape from the floor and seal the box tightly. He grabs a marker, scrawls Socks! messily on the top of the box and picks it up, kisses Pi roughly on the cheek and strides purposefully out of the room.
“Akanishi! I was gonna wear those,” Pi yells after him, but smiles and follows his best friend out of the room. Pi picks up another box, slips his bare feet into his shoes and takes one last look at the apartment.
He’s spent four years here and experienced many things within these walls; more pain than he’s ever known, but more pleasure and happiness too. They were, for sure, the best years of his life. But his life isn’t over yet. He has new memories to make in his and Jin’s new apartment; new stains to make, tears to shed, and kitchen counters to fuck on. With all that in front of him, this time moving isn’t quite so bad.
Yamapi hates packing, but he takes his time, making sure to look at each thing before carefully wrapping it and placing it in the box; awards he’s won, gifts he’s received, gifts he’s never given. He hates putting all these things away.
His life, at least for the past five years, has been chronicled in CDs. Each style and phase he went through can be seen on their covers. From the emaciated doe-eyed days of NewS Nippon to the days of Shuji to Akira (back when Ryo had enjoyed telling Pi both he and Jin were fat). The lonely days of Daite Senorita and Kitty GYM. His long hair for Hoshi wo Mezashite, his happiness that NewS was back, sadness at the loss of Uchi and Kusano. His amusement during Pacific and the intensity he had to show in his eyes for Taiyou no Namida. And finally Happy Birthday, where he’s at last comfortable with himself, with his success as an idol. His friends’ lives are likewise recorded on CDs and in magazines, but they had their own phases and feelings that Pi may or may not know about. So he studies the pictures, trying to figure out what they’re thinking, and he spends so long looking at their faces that by the time the CDs and magazines are safely packed, the light streaming into his window has taken on a harsh angle and he’s almost run out of time. He packs everything else faster, but just as carefully, absorbed in the task at hand, thinking absently about his last move.
It was a record four years ago, when he moved out of his mom’s house. It had been a sad move, marking the end of an era and the start of something entirely new and scary. He’d known his mom would cry, and known he would too, given the chance. So he’d gotten Jin to help him, knowing his pride would never let him cry in front of Bakanishi. As Yamapi and Jin had lifted the heavy boxes into Jin’s car, Yamapi’s mom and sister had leaned against the side of the house, watching with sad eyes. Pi hated that look and how it’d made him hate leaving them. As they drove away, Jin had squeezed Pi’s shoulder reassuringly, knowing how he felt like he was abandoning his family.
Now he doesn’t have anything to abandon except his memories. The scratch on the hardwood floor from moving in. The stain on the carpet in the living room from a spill during an intense game of Mario Kart. The small piece of scotch tape stuck on the kitchen doorway from mistletoe two Christmases ago. The dent in the bedroom door from a secret, angry reaction to the hiatus. The divots in the carpet from his couch, on which he slept almost as much as his bed, having many a time come home from a long day of work and not had the energy to make it to his bedroom. The genkan where he first shoved Jin against the door and kissed him. The corner of the bathroom he sat in for two days, crying after Jin left for America. The kitchen counter where they made love for the first time. He was leaving it all behind, and it felt like he was leaving a piece of himself in that apartment; leaving the best years of his life.
Yamapi hears a small knock on the front door, then the door opening and the quiet scuffle of shoes being toed off, the gentle padding of sock-clad feet walking down the hall. He hears the creak of the door frame as Jin lean against it, but he doesn’t turn around from the full box in front of him.
Pi feels Jin watch him, notice the slump of his shoulders, and he knows no words need to be said for Jin to know how he’s feeling.
“Aren’t you done yet?” Jin asks loudly, walking forward and pulling the pair of socks from Pi’s hands, shoving them haphazardly into the box. “Come on, I’m double parked.” He proceeds to grab the tape from the floor and seal the box tightly. He grabs a marker, scrawls Socks! messily on the top of the box and picks it up, kisses Pi roughly on the cheek and strides purposefully out of the room.
“Akanishi! I was gonna wear those,” Pi yells after him, but smiles and follows his best friend out of the room. Pi picks up another box, slips his bare feet into his shoes and takes one last look at the apartment.
He’s spent four years here and experienced many things within these walls; more pain than he’s ever known, but more pleasure and happiness too. They were, for sure, the best years of his life. But his life isn’t over yet. He has new memories to make in his and Jin’s new apartment; new stains to make, tears to shed, and kitchen counters to fuck on. With all that in front of him, this time moving isn’t quite so bad.