Gift fic for marlenem
To: marlenem
From: holdstheace
SEASON'S GREETINGS!
Title: Seishun Amigo
Pairing/Group: Kame / Yamapi (references to Shuuji / Akira)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: vaguely angsty
Notes: I hope this sort of hits something the requester was looking for. Enjoy!
Summary: I wrote most of this fic, looked up the lyrics to Seishun Amigo and then realized I’d just re-written the lyrics in narrative form. oops.
Seishun Amigo
“How do you find places like this?” Kame asked, frowning at the dimly lighted bar with a scarred countertop, manned by a bartender with three rings in his right eyebrow.
“When you’ve lost two members of your group to drinking scandals, you learn a lot about low-profile places.” Yamapi eased up to the bar and waved two fingers, counting on the universal drinking code that made the bartender appear with two beers. Kame slid into the stool next to him, already off-balance from a few drinks at the club, and sniffed the beer.
“You still remember my favorite,” he remarked.
“You didn’t branch out very much when you were drinking under-age. I figured you hadn’t changed.”
Yamapi still remembered the first time he’d seen Kame drink. It had been at the wrap party for Nobuta wo Produce-nothing less would have convinced Kame to do something that was against the law or would add pounds to his nearly emaciated body. Yamapi remembered watching the first shot go down and the alcohol shoot straight to blood that had no strength to handle it. Someone had thrown them both into the same taxi when the night was over, and Yamapi still remembered the half-laughing, half-sobbing Kame who had fallen onto him, face smashed between the seat and his own throbbing head, the dampness on Kame’s cheek and the desperate fingers clutching his shirt.
Back in the real world, more than a year later, Kame scowled at him. “Why are we here now?”
“I wanted to get out of there for awhile.” There was only so long Yamapi could stand the loud thrum of bass, the hypnotic sway of hips and hair on the dance floor, the unmistakable club odor of sour bile and sweating bodies. He knew that Kame wasn’t thrilled about leaving, whether or not he’d been having a good time. Kame hadn’t changed; he still tried to act like he thought a good Johnny’s should, hoping everyone would believe the façade.
They sat in silence for awhile. There was a very short list of people that Yamapi could sit with and be quiet. It always surprised him when he realized that Jin was not one of them and Kame was.
“Do you go out to clubs often?” Kame asked.
Yamapi shook his head. “It’s not really my scene.” He paused. “You didn’t look like you were having a great time either.”
“That’s not your business.”
That’s when Yamapi knew he’d been right. He’d seen through the writhing hips on the dance floor and the cool stare behind a shot. There was still something wrong. Both of them were still as broken as the days when they’d fallen asleep on their respective chairs on the movie sets. Kame was always half-fainting from being underweight, sleep-deprived and heart-broken about Jin and KAT-TUN. Yamapi had just been confused, worried, searching for someone or something to fill the aching places where his dreams had used to live. They’d developed a twisted bond of need and desire that had started and supposedly ended when the drama did.
Yet look at them now, sitting in a bar, still broken up about the same people, still in the same old situation. Yamapi knew if he waited long enough, the real Kame would emerge from his shell, just like the old one, full of insecurities and fears and doubts. And just like before, the longer they sat here, the more he would want Kame, want that thin body shuddering beneath him, the touch of fingertips like a girl’s caressing his face, his hair.
“Akira really cared about Shuuji,” Kame said suddenly.
Yamapi sighed. “Eh?”
“Akira followed Shuuji,” Kame said, looking deep into the unreflecting countertop. “Sometimes I wonder…did he just want one of us to follow him to America? Would that have been enough?”
Yamapi shook his head. “Jin’s not Shuuji, Kame.” He wasn’t surprised that this was Kame’s problem. Jin had always been a complication for everyone, himself included.
Kame shook slightly and quickly downed the rest of his beer. “Yeah. He left us. He wanted to.”
“How is everyone else doing?” Yamapi asked, turning the conversation slightly. Jin was a subject who would never go anywhere except difficult memories.
Kame looked pained. “Koki…I don’t think Koki wants him back. Taguchi doesn’t care; I don’t think Ueda does either. But Nakamaru misses him. We don’t talk to each other anymore because we just end up worried together.” Kame’s hands balled into fists and rested on the counter, pushing down. “I just wish I knew what he was thinking. If he even wants to come back. It leaves us hanging here…”
“He’ll come back.” Yamapi knew Jin. More importantly Yamapi knew Johnny. Between the two of them, everyone would be convinced that having Jin come back would be the best thing.
“Can we have a smoke?” Kame looked like he was about to lose it and Yamapi nodded, throwing money on the counter for the beers, taking Kame’s arm and guiding him through the back door out into the alley behind the bar.
The air was fresh and cool outside. Yamapi took in the dirty pavement and the city-lighted sky, then his eyes wandered over to Kame, fumbling with the cigarette lighter. He was beautiful. Tragically, destructively beautiful in a way that Yamapi could never resist.
“Shuuji’s not alone,” Yamapi said, taking the cigarette out of Kame’s shaking hands and lighting it for him. “Akira’s still here.”
It took Kame about two beats for Yamapi’s meaning to make it through the haze of alcohol. He shook his head in disbelief, drawing on the cigarette. “But that ended. Jin left me. Nobody needs me now.”
Yamapi couldn’t stop his hands. With a mind of their own they snaked around Kame’s back, one traveling towards the front of his pants. “Really?”
Kame had dropped the cigarette and was staring at Yamapi, terrified. “No. It’s over. And you don’t want me. You don’t.
Yamapi leaned forward and ran a line of kisses from Kame’s ear down to his collarbone before pulling away, nearly growling. “You are pining after my best friend. But. I want. You.”
Kame looked at him then, really looked at him, and his eyes changed. They went from confused, afraid to calm, content, like the tide running out after a storm. He slowly pulled Yamapi in closer.
“Shuuji…Shuuji needs Akira.”
They both stood there for a moment, their eyes agreeing to believe the lie-that somehow the two of them could find happiness with each other and they didn’t need anyone else.
No, Yamapi thought, as Kame moved in, Shuuji needed someone else to be happy, but for now, with Kame’s mouth hungrily seeking his own, he would take any chance he was given to be Akira just one more time.
From: holdstheace
SEASON'S GREETINGS!
Title: Seishun Amigo
Pairing/Group: Kame / Yamapi (references to Shuuji / Akira)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: vaguely angsty
Notes: I hope this sort of hits something the requester was looking for. Enjoy!
Summary: I wrote most of this fic, looked up the lyrics to Seishun Amigo and then realized I’d just re-written the lyrics in narrative form. oops.
Seishun Amigo
“How do you find places like this?” Kame asked, frowning at the dimly lighted bar with a scarred countertop, manned by a bartender with three rings in his right eyebrow.
“When you’ve lost two members of your group to drinking scandals, you learn a lot about low-profile places.” Yamapi eased up to the bar and waved two fingers, counting on the universal drinking code that made the bartender appear with two beers. Kame slid into the stool next to him, already off-balance from a few drinks at the club, and sniffed the beer.
“You still remember my favorite,” he remarked.
“You didn’t branch out very much when you were drinking under-age. I figured you hadn’t changed.”
Yamapi still remembered the first time he’d seen Kame drink. It had been at the wrap party for Nobuta wo Produce-nothing less would have convinced Kame to do something that was against the law or would add pounds to his nearly emaciated body. Yamapi remembered watching the first shot go down and the alcohol shoot straight to blood that had no strength to handle it. Someone had thrown them both into the same taxi when the night was over, and Yamapi still remembered the half-laughing, half-sobbing Kame who had fallen onto him, face smashed between the seat and his own throbbing head, the dampness on Kame’s cheek and the desperate fingers clutching his shirt.
Back in the real world, more than a year later, Kame scowled at him. “Why are we here now?”
“I wanted to get out of there for awhile.” There was only so long Yamapi could stand the loud thrum of bass, the hypnotic sway of hips and hair on the dance floor, the unmistakable club odor of sour bile and sweating bodies. He knew that Kame wasn’t thrilled about leaving, whether or not he’d been having a good time. Kame hadn’t changed; he still tried to act like he thought a good Johnny’s should, hoping everyone would believe the façade.
They sat in silence for awhile. There was a very short list of people that Yamapi could sit with and be quiet. It always surprised him when he realized that Jin was not one of them and Kame was.
“Do you go out to clubs often?” Kame asked.
Yamapi shook his head. “It’s not really my scene.” He paused. “You didn’t look like you were having a great time either.”
“That’s not your business.”
That’s when Yamapi knew he’d been right. He’d seen through the writhing hips on the dance floor and the cool stare behind a shot. There was still something wrong. Both of them were still as broken as the days when they’d fallen asleep on their respective chairs on the movie sets. Kame was always half-fainting from being underweight, sleep-deprived and heart-broken about Jin and KAT-TUN. Yamapi had just been confused, worried, searching for someone or something to fill the aching places where his dreams had used to live. They’d developed a twisted bond of need and desire that had started and supposedly ended when the drama did.
Yet look at them now, sitting in a bar, still broken up about the same people, still in the same old situation. Yamapi knew if he waited long enough, the real Kame would emerge from his shell, just like the old one, full of insecurities and fears and doubts. And just like before, the longer they sat here, the more he would want Kame, want that thin body shuddering beneath him, the touch of fingertips like a girl’s caressing his face, his hair.
“Akira really cared about Shuuji,” Kame said suddenly.
Yamapi sighed. “Eh?”
“Akira followed Shuuji,” Kame said, looking deep into the unreflecting countertop. “Sometimes I wonder…did he just want one of us to follow him to America? Would that have been enough?”
Yamapi shook his head. “Jin’s not Shuuji, Kame.” He wasn’t surprised that this was Kame’s problem. Jin had always been a complication for everyone, himself included.
Kame shook slightly and quickly downed the rest of his beer. “Yeah. He left us. He wanted to.”
“How is everyone else doing?” Yamapi asked, turning the conversation slightly. Jin was a subject who would never go anywhere except difficult memories.
Kame looked pained. “Koki…I don’t think Koki wants him back. Taguchi doesn’t care; I don’t think Ueda does either. But Nakamaru misses him. We don’t talk to each other anymore because we just end up worried together.” Kame’s hands balled into fists and rested on the counter, pushing down. “I just wish I knew what he was thinking. If he even wants to come back. It leaves us hanging here…”
“He’ll come back.” Yamapi knew Jin. More importantly Yamapi knew Johnny. Between the two of them, everyone would be convinced that having Jin come back would be the best thing.
“Can we have a smoke?” Kame looked like he was about to lose it and Yamapi nodded, throwing money on the counter for the beers, taking Kame’s arm and guiding him through the back door out into the alley behind the bar.
The air was fresh and cool outside. Yamapi took in the dirty pavement and the city-lighted sky, then his eyes wandered over to Kame, fumbling with the cigarette lighter. He was beautiful. Tragically, destructively beautiful in a way that Yamapi could never resist.
“Shuuji’s not alone,” Yamapi said, taking the cigarette out of Kame’s shaking hands and lighting it for him. “Akira’s still here.”
It took Kame about two beats for Yamapi’s meaning to make it through the haze of alcohol. He shook his head in disbelief, drawing on the cigarette. “But that ended. Jin left me. Nobody needs me now.”
Yamapi couldn’t stop his hands. With a mind of their own they snaked around Kame’s back, one traveling towards the front of his pants. “Really?”
Kame had dropped the cigarette and was staring at Yamapi, terrified. “No. It’s over. And you don’t want me. You don’t.
Yamapi leaned forward and ran a line of kisses from Kame’s ear down to his collarbone before pulling away, nearly growling. “You are pining after my best friend. But. I want. You.”
Kame looked at him then, really looked at him, and his eyes changed. They went from confused, afraid to calm, content, like the tide running out after a storm. He slowly pulled Yamapi in closer.
“Shuuji…Shuuji needs Akira.”
They both stood there for a moment, their eyes agreeing to believe the lie-that somehow the two of them could find happiness with each other and they didn’t need anyone else.
No, Yamapi thought, as Kame moved in, Shuuji needed someone else to be happy, but for now, with Kame’s mouth hungrily seeking his own, he would take any chance he was given to be Akira just one more time.