fic for aishayue (1/4)
Title: We're Out of Season, Baby
Author: nhijumma
Pairing: Akame
Word count: 21,357 words
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Semi-AU, slight OOC, Pre-marriage era (time travel back to YGT whee.)
Notes: Shaking like a chihuahua, all excited, because there's a first time for everything and this is my first contribution to the community I've been watching for a very long time. This plot bunny has been hopping around my head since forever, and it's nice that I finally have an excuse to bring it to life, LOL. aishayue, I hope this suits your liking. :] Steered away from MPREG and personally I wouldn't touch it with a pole unless it has a good plot anyways. Big thanks to my ever so patient beta who I will refer to as zero (just for the sake of keeping the anonymity aspect of this exchange), for bearing with this fic which is the mother load of all grammatical atrocities. Also, all my love to friends who cheered me on as I sprinted towards the finish line, LOL.
Summary: Winter melts away, Jin meets Spring, and when he does, he feels as if he's lost his sense of seasons.
SeasonsandSongs
Ayaka - Mikazuki , Kaorin - Aishiteru
OST - Mr. Brain Ballad Version , Alex - Closer Juju - ?????
Hee Young - Are You Still Waiting
?LISTEN
When Jin meets Spring, it's not a blur of flowery colors, nor is it plants growing from the soil in projector-like speed. He'd expect that much, you know, had he known he'd be able to meet a season. He would have expected trees majestically sprouting from the ground, a multitude of butterflies flitting along his range of sight, and for an even more aesthetic touch, a beautiful swirl of color illuminated by the sun. Jin has a lot of demands; he's a recording artist, a top-selling one, specifically speaking.
Spring, turns out, is a man.
Or, sort of a man.
He's half man, half abstract concept.
But basically, a man.
Another reason why he's so disappointed.
Jin groans as he glares at the guy standing by his stack of American albums, using a Michael Jackson CD's shiny side as a mirror.
“Fuck it.” he grumbles crossly, massaging his right temple.
He groans even louder and let himself slump on his swivel chair instead.
- - -
“Look at these!”
Jin cringes. It's Monday morning. He hates Monday mornings. Especially when paired with an impromptu visit from an overly nagging mother, whose only concern by the way, are the potted carnations she obligated his son to line along his balcony.
“Jin, these aren't flowers. These are weeds. I told you to look after my plants.”
“Mama. Listen to me.” Jin grits out, “I am a singer. I record songs. Good songs. Oricon chart-topping songs. Tell me to write a song about your cooking, I'll gladly do it.” he almost begs in exasperation, “Just don't make me do gardening.” He jabs his hand towards the sorriest carnation he has ever seen. “I am not Martha Stewart.”
“Who is Martha Whatnot and you are missing the point!” His mother snaps at him, irritated, but then resorts with heaving a disappointed sigh instead. “Jin, look at you. You've been going out every night. Your place is a mess. Maybe they're just plants, but it's a reflection of your sense of responsibility. You're approaching your twenty sixth birthday, and aside from your career, have you really done the things you're supposed to be doing right now?”
Jin doesn't say anything, because even if he urges his mother that he's perfectly capable of toning down the partying and tidying up his place, the complete mess that is his apartment isn't really set to support those split-second claims. There are dirty clothes on the couch and cans of beer on the coffee table. And the carnations are dead. His mother is right, anyways. He hasn't really been the most responsible one of the two Akanishi sons for the past-forever. And has he mentioned the carnations are dead?
Jin sighs. “I'll buy you new ones.” He holds his hands up even before his mother could get a single word in. “Young ones. Without the big flowers. I'll make it work this time.”
It takes a few moments, but his mother finally cracks a smile. “I'm glad. Thank you. I have to go now, your father wants to go to this new art gallery they mentioned on the morning news.”
Jin kicks mounds of clothing from his carpeted floor in order to make a stable pathway out of his apartment. “Thanks for dropping by, mama.”
“Oh, and Jin-” she stops just halfway through the door, “Cut your hair. Just to make sure nothing alive is growing in there.”
- - -
One trip to the flower shop and a hair cut later, Jin has both arm spaces filled with bags of young potted carnations and a sack of fertilizer. He irritatingly puffs off the lock of hair that is threatening to tickle his nose. I need a better system of doing things. Toeing off his Chuck Taylors ends up with the difficulty level of walking on a tight rope, and he accidentally bangs his elbow against the door in the process. By the time he gets to his balcony and finally heaves the bags off his shoulders, he's already exhausted himself.
He feels kind of stupid as he plops himself onto the tiled floor, putting away plastic bags and decorating his railings with clay pots and little flowery buds. He feels even stupider as he mounds fertilizer on the soil, cringing every now and then at the smell of earth and wonders how a multi-platinum recording artist like him is even bothered to buy plants. Sometimes he also wonders what immaculate force is able to convince him to arrange pots prettily like those people in HGTV.
Right. Mama.
Maybe this is just her sneaky way of saying she really wanted at least one daughter in the family. He grumbles under his breath as he dumps water on each pot. He honestly thought that phase has totally died off by the time she realized she can't get away with making him wear frilly dresses anymore.
After finishing through the necessary steps, Jin stands up and moves back to survey his handiwork. He purses his lips. It's not bad for a man who has no gardening talent or experience. Also not bad for someone who learned all these instructions from a random female stranger he found looking through the aisle of petunias. Knowing the right way to spread compost was not really his first itinerary when he came up to talk to her.
Which reminds him.
After quickly typing out a text message to his mom (Mama I already got ur flowers & a hair cut we're good now ryt?) and sending it the next second, he scrolls through his contact list and finds an Ayaka somewhere in it. He punches the call button.
“Hi, it's me, Akanishi Jin, from the flower shop.”
You mean Akanishi Jin from Johnny's Entertainment.
“Yeah. That too.” he laughs as he leans over the railings of his balcony, “Do you want to go out sometime?”
- - -
It's spring, and it's wonderful outside, so Jin risks living on the edge and takes Ayaka out for a night stroll in the park. The woman appears to be the classy type, judging by her genuine interest in flower arrangement (that's why she's in the flower shop in the first place, she says), and, being the flexible gentleman that he is, he decides to completely cross off heading to a club's general direction that night.
He even arrives at their designated meeting place fifteen minutes earlier. Jin could be responsibly punctual when he wants to.
Jin takes some time to himself to stroll in solitude, because for a person whose everyday life is spent with friends, sub-friends, strangers, and sub-strangers, it's not difficult to appreciate being alone. The night effectively hides a good part of his identity from prying eyes, and Chidorigafuchi's cherry blossom trees covers up the rest. There aren't much people in the park on a Monday night and the breeze is soft and light, just enough to cool him in his hoodie that cloaks the majority of his face. He doesn't say this much, not in a very long time actually, but tonight-tonight seems perfect.
He spots an empty bench just by the edge of the slope leading down the river and takes a step towards its direction when something bumps against his legs. He looks down and it's a kid in a soccer uniform knocked down to the ground and crumpled at Jin's feet. “Hey, are you okay?” he asks gently, stooping low to help the boy up, trying to ignore sudden whip of wind that blows by, ruffling his clothes visibly.
The boy nods, his expression apologetic. “Yes, I am. I'm sorry, mister.”
Jin smiles, “It's okay. Just be careful.”
When he straightens to a stand, there is already a man seated on the other end of the bench. He stops in a mid-step; he wonders if it's okay to sit with him. He doesn't look like paparazzi, and judging by the calm, sophisticated air he exudes, he doesn't look like someone who'd demand too much of a noisy conversation. Jin just really wants to sit by the river.
He decides it probably wouldn't do much damage to sit by a stranger, so he strolls towards the bench and seats himself at the unoccupied end. Fortunately, the man seems to prefer the silence as well and continues to stare up at the little glimmering dots across the sky.
He can't help but steal a glance from the corner of his eyes. He ends up pleasantly surprised.
The man could have easily been mistaken as someone signed under Johnny's, but at the same time not really. He is good looking, but not generically so; his features are soft and delicate and nothing like the heavily masculine faces of Jun, Yamapi, and himself. It's quite amazing how he got the hair, the style, and even just the right mixture of cute and alluring, the former due to the cute points of his cheeks and the latter due to the interesting crook along the bridge of his nose. He also has the pleasantly respectful gaze down pat, the expression stencil for most Johnny's during interviews. Jin realizes the man is directing the said questioning stare towards his direction and has caught him ogling.
Shit.
“Uh,” He says intelligently-or maybe not-“Hi.”
“Do you need anything?” he asks, smiling a little. Jin almost tilts his head to the side. It's a nice smile.
“No, sorry, I was just..” He thinks, “Looking.” His smart-sounding words seem to be suffering a fatal scarcity tonight.
The man turns to his side and reaches over his edge of the bench to retrieve something from the grass. He turns back to Jin, who is now a tad bit more curious than embarrassed. “Here.” It's a soccer ball, and the man is waiting for him to take it. Jin merely gazes at it questioningly until finally, the other nudges a thumb over at a spot a few meters away, where Jin bumped into the little boy in the soccer uniform.
“Oh,” He realizes, “I don't know him, or anything-”
The man smiles knowingly. “You will.”
Weird.
“It rolled my way, but I saw he's already gone, so I wasn't able to give it back.” He explains, shifting the ball from one palm to the other.
“I won't see him again though.” Jin replies blankly.
“You will.” the man says yet again, tossing the ball at Jin's direction.
Jin is still staring confusedly at the ball cradled in his arms when the man heaves himself off the bench and walks off a few steps. He stops, tosses back a small glance paired with a knowing smirk, and says, “So, how are your carnations?”
The man doesn't wait for Jin's expression to melt and trickle from confusion to shock before walking away. He has already traversed a few meters' distance just as the other has finally shaken himself from his momentary stupor, but Jin's kind of too late. All of Jin's half angry, half frightened 'stay away from me's fall on deaf ears.
Encountering a weird (albeit aesthetically enticing) paparazzi-stalker just a few minutes before his date-perfect night my ass.
Jin quickly bounds off from the bench as if it has caught fire and immediately strides as far away from the area as possible, almost breaking into a hurried run. It takes a few minutes after reaching what he deems is a safe spot to realize that he still has the ball clutched between his hands. He sighs. Whatever. He could tell Ayaka he wants to teach her some soccer, which is perfectly good since he could totally show off his heel kick, which is a move that totally drives the girls crazy. (He' 99% sure; he's tried it on many unknowing members of the female populace.)
A few moments later, Ayaka arrives. She is smiling, a picnic basket on one hand and the small fingers of a child on the other and she's really pretty and she's-wait.
He realizes destiny is an ass and is probably out to get him, because not only has he been subjected to meeting a potential stalker, it turns out Ayaka has a kid, and she swears she told him the fact midway through their little exchange along the petunia aisle. Jin does not remember at all; he wants to believe it's because he was jotting down notes on the efficiency of digging tools, but that would be a lie. He didn't at all care about Ayaka's vast knowledge regarding potting soil varieties and the likes.
Jin must look really distressed, because the child is now hiding behind Ayaka's leg. The green and gray soccer uniform is all too familiar. He lowers himself onto his knees and peers at the boy from his hiding place.
“Hello again.” Jin says happily before angling his gaze to meet Ayaka's curious glance, “I bumped on him a while ago.”
“He must have been playing when I was buying dango from the stand.” She smiles.
I don't know him, or anything-
You will.
“His name is Kei.”
Jin hands him the ball, “Kei, you left this.”
I won't see him again though.
You will.
Though Ayaka is eternally crossed off from his list of potential relationships, Jin finds it okay. He is able to stay attentive now that their conversations do not revolve around which fertilizer brand is better, plus Kei is an adorable kid whose dreams circle around nothing but soccer. It's endearing watching the boy kick the ball here and there, and Jin remembers his seven year old self doing the same thing. He excuses himself from Ayaka and goes off to teach Kei how to do a heel kick. This is nice. He isn't at all bothered by how the events turned out.
So how are your carnations?
The voice filtering in and out of his mind, however, does.
- - -
A week after Ayaka, the park, and the creepy semi-psychic stalker, Johnny calls him from a jam session with Josh and into one of his extremely notorious one-on-one meetings. Most people enter the office with fists quivering and knees about to give away, but Jin's used to it. He's been going to and from these doors almost twice a month, which is quite a feat no matter what angle you look at it. Whether you're receiving an award or a warning for misbehavior, the fact that Johnny's wasting seconds of his already waning breath on you denotes that you're of some kind of importance.
“A U.S. debut.” Jin bleakly repeats.
“We're taking steps on crossing over to the American market.” Johnny is flipping through a stack of printed materials as he speaks, the ever-efficient multi-tasker, “Since you've already performed in the U.S., and in most part your songs seem to coincide well with American music, you're the one we're sending. Your English skills seem above par. You'll be having a set of inter-state concerts, and afterwards an all English album release.”
“Oh.” Jin says blankly, like he couldn't quite grasp what's happening yet, “Thanks? I mean, thank you. Thank you. I'll do my best.”
Johnny knows he's not going to get anything more from him at such a stage of badly-hidden disbelief, so he dismisses him with a wave of the hand and a come in tomorrow for a meeting. When Jin steps out of the office he whips out his Iphone, dials Pi's number and demands for his presence at their favorite bar.
“Cheers to this lucky fucktard who gets everything in life!”
Jin reaches over to whack Ryo on the back of the head. He wanted to tag along after finding out that Yamapi's going out for a drink. “Says the guy who's heralded as one of JE's best actors.”
The man looks at him sourly, “Which is still nothing compared to an American debut.”
“You'll get there too,” Yamapi assures Ryo before taking a sip from his drink, “If you at least try getting decent with the English language.”
Ryo almost snorts out the half a can of beer he just downed a couple of seconds ago. “Who are you to talk about getting decent with the English language, Mister Lick You Like A Mayonnaise?”
Yamapai rolls his eyes. “For the last time, I didn't write that part!” He purses his lips, “Elise did.”
Ryo, after making sure his drink is well down his throat, now snorts for real. “Figures.”
“It's 'lick you like mayonnaise', by the way. For an English teacher, she doesn't know her articles.” Jin quips as he tilts his head to the side, “Sorry Pi, I know you like her and shit.”
“Why your sister even hired a French woman to teach her English still escapes me.” Ryo says, shrugging nonchalantly.
“So when are you starting with all these things?” Yamapi asks Jin, diverting the subject before Ryo could divulge deeper into his self-made theories of conspiracies.
“There's gonna be a meeting tomorrow, and basically everything follows from there.” Jin answers after one swig of his beer, “Probably deciding on a theme would follow, then choosing songs to put into the set list, discussing with the production staff, choreography, picking out dancers-SHIT!” He suddenly explodes, Ryo and Yamapi almost jumping out of their seats in shock.
“What the fuck?!” Ryo sputters, wiping spilled alcohol from his shirt, “Jin, what is wrong with you!”
“My mom will kill me.” Jin blabs, slumping against the back of his seat, “She will kill me. Or it will kill her. She already thinks I'm a wayward son. And then she'll see the only proof of my sense of responsibility shrivelled and dry and DEAD. Her poor heart. I am the worst. I am-”
“Wait, what?” Yamapi has his brows furrowed and you know it's another level of befuddlement now because his dead fish eyes actually have confusion in them and are not dead. Jin ends up telling them about his mom's potted carnations, and then his own potted carnations which he spilled blood on trying to recreate, which subsequently led to the exposure of the whole Ayaka blunder with the kid and soccer and the psychopathic stalker.
After explaining everything in full, specific detail, Jin breathes out and waits for the both of them to say anything. Just-anything. Anything that could be somewhat therapeutic to his wounded psyche. Ryo and Yamapi, however, looks back at each other for quite a while before literally bursting into uncontrollable laughter, paired with a lot of table banging and stomach clutching.
So much for a therapeutic response.
“Oh god-!” Ryo wheezes, holding out one hand in the air, “No-wait-I'm sorry,” he chokes out, and then takes a deep breath, “It's just too much shit for one day-” He stifles another potential barrage of guffaws, “And for it to happen to you-” He's turning red trying to hold in his laughter, so Jin sighs, waves a dismissive hand and lets Ryo double over in stomach pain all he wants.
Yamapi calms down into a wide smile and finally offers his advice (and this is why Pi's his bestesest friend despite the gay shit he sends him for his birthday, specifically his scarves), “Just hire a gardener then, it's no big deal.”
“No, it has to be me,” Jin groans, clutching his head, “It's like me being responsible and shit; if I hire a gardener then that's just the fucking gardener being responsible and that is totally counterproductive!”
“I've never seen you so morally inclined.” Yamapi muses in amazement.
“When it comes to my mama, I don't fuck around.” Jin grumbles.
Ryo 'pfft's. “Your mama-!” The Osaka man proceeds to drown himself into peals of laughter.
Jin just ends up glaring at him the entire night.
- - -
With all the moping and all the glaring and particularly all the pitiful moaning, Jin ends up running his mouth twice as hard and does not even drink as much as he wants to. They take Ryo's drunken and overly eager willingness to strip tease as a sign that they should most probably call it a day, and after calling a cab for Ryo and bidding Yamapi a short good night, Jin drives back to his apartment at almost three in the morning. He nearly trips over the elevated edge of the genkan on his way in, but he catches himself just in time and thanks all the gods for it because that would have been nasty and also, does not at all help his I-am-a-responsible-adult defense.
He pads towards his fridge to get a glass of water for the potted carnations (mineral water for the plants just sounds better in Jin's opinion, maybe they'd grow prettier that way), crosses the living room, and opens the sliding door towards his balcony. There's a sudden gust of wind and almost immediately he regrets taking off his jacket and-OH MY GOD THERE'S SOMEONE SITTING ON THE RAILINGS.
“Hey.” he greets, and Jin knows him.
“I told you to stay away from me!” Jin sputters, backing away in small, frightened steps, “How did you even get in, this is breaking and entering, I will fucking call the police on you-and what are you doing sitting there this is the sixth floor you psychotic bastard!” He ends up roaring in a complicated mix of fear and worry, “Get down from there, stay, don't move, so I can send you to jail god fucking dammit-” He starts clumsily fumbling for his phone with his free hand.
“You're not even gonna ask who I am?” The man wonders, leaning over and placing his elbows onto his knees, “That's kind of offensive.”
Offensive-just what the fuck, does this guy not know that unauthorized entry in another person's house is, on many levels, much more offensive? Thankfully he has the police station on speed dial (fans can be aggressively scary sometimes and anti-fans just endanger his life in general) which would get him talking to an officer a couple of minutes faster.
“Come on.” The stranger challenges, smirking from where he is dangerously tittering over the edge of Jin's balcony, “Ask me my name.”
Jin is blowing hot air out of his nose. “You stop playing games with me. I am serious. I will have you arrested-”
The other rolls his eyes. “You need my name for the police.”
Jin glares at him good. “I do not need your name for the police.” He hisses, his eyes narrowed like he has taken offence in being corrected by the very trespasser to his home, “They have records; it's their fucking job to know who you are-”
He just smiles knowingly, “Oh. They won't have records of me, I assure you.”
“Fine!” Jin explodes, the ringing from the other line still echoing in his ear, “What's your name?!”
The stranger just smirks again, “Spring.”
“Are you-you just-just stop talking.” Jin seethes, and finally there's a voice answering his call. “Hello? There is a man in my apartment right now, he's-”
“I told you.” The man says, and now he is twirling his finger; there's a strong gust of wind billowing his curtains. A trail of cherry blossom petals suddenly materializes from thin air, and with one flick the mass of pink tangles with his hand, sweeps the phone away from his grasp and out of his reach. Jin could feel his jaw growing slack as he hears the static-filled hellos pounding through the minuscule speakers of his phone.
“I'm Spring.”
Jin's mouth runs dry as he watches his phone suspended in mid air, softly tossing and tumbling in its place, pieces of sakura petals floating along with it. “Y-you can't be,” he has begun blabbing again, but now it's partnered with a slight panic attack where he hopes he remembers how to breath right, “Spring's a season; flowers and trees and plants-you're a person and a bitchy one at that so you can't be spring, it's physically impossible for you to be spring, and if by some god forsaken chance you are it should be a fucking crime because you're so snarky it hurts-”
His phone moves away and lands onto the other's awaiting palm. The petals melt away. “I see you've met Kei?” He taps his nose knowingly. “And gave him his ball back.”
Jin's gaze snaps quickly at him. “How'd you know?” he almost stammers, “Y-you knew I was going to meet him, and my plants too, you knew about them. You're stalking me?”
“Don't flatter yourself.” he laughs, his dainty eyes crinkling in mirth. “I'm a season, of course I'd know.” he says like it's the most obvious thing in the world, “The wind,” he puffs a soft breath from his lips and suddenly there's a breeze sweeping through the balcony, combing imaginary fingers through their hair, “Carries a lot of things. Leaves. Flowers. Conversations.”
Jin fists his fingers and takes a brave step forward. “Get out of my apartment.”
“Akanishi, let me tell you something.” he lightly says as he hops off the railings and onto the balcony floor, “A story before I leave.”
“You know my name.” he blurts out.
“It's hard to miss.” Spring shrugs, slipping both hands into his pockets, “With your name in the paper every other day.”
Jin isn't sure, but he feels as if his cheeks were burning like the pits of hell. He clears his throat instead. “Go ahead then. Your story. Then out of my place, immediately.”
Spring smiles, the most genuine one Jin has seen on him so far, and he remembers how pleasantly nice it looks. “When nature created things, they had form. Trees, mountains, water, the sky-they're the lucky ones. You can't imagine how much people love them, those things. Some, however, were born faceless. The wind, sound, and us-the seasons.”
“Nature is very kind though; she gave us a choice.” Spring looks at Jin momentarily, probably checking if he's still following, “Whenever it's time for us to engulf the earth, we can remain formless and manifest ourselves through the weather of the skies and the flowers and the trees,”
“Or become human until it's time for us to go. Somehow, this time, I chose to be a person.”
“Why?” Jin finds himself asking.
“I don't know. Yet.” Spring adds the last word as an afterthought, “That's what I'll try finding out.”
“Why?”
Spring loses his calm allure and looks at Jin like he's somewhat idiotic. “I just answered that.”
“I meant why Tokyo, why that certain park, why me.” Jin pushes, rubbing his fingertips against one temple, “Japan has a shit load of other cities you could materialize at and millions of people to show yourself to. You know, there's Ryo, and Pi, and Yuu too, if you're looking for more well known others-”
The other just shrugs, “Never heard of them.”
Jin gapes at him, “They're on every newspaper in Tokyo too!”
“I just don't know, okay? God, does everything have to have answers?” Spring sighs with exasperation, meeting Jin's incredulous gaze with his own annoyed one, “You humans are all so problematically complicated; this is why all of you die early.” He grumbles, flicking away strands of hair from his nose. “And all this hair-where can I get all this shaved off?”
Jin fumes. “Out. NOW.”
“Okay, okay, calm down.” Spring holds out his hands in front of him in a coaxing manner, “How about a deal? Look, you have your concert to attend to,”
“How-”
“And you have to actually grow all these flowers and make them stay alive for the sake of your mother,”
“Hey-!”
“How about I help you?” He offers, trying for an enticing smile, “You let me live here for three months, just until my stay here ends and Fall takes over, and I make sure not one petal on these flowers ever wilt.”
“That is not how it works.” Jin says curtly, grabbing Spring by the arm and dragging him across the balcony and into the interior of his apartment. “I can take care of those plants all by myself.” They were now struggling over to the genkan and just a few feet away from the door out.
“Oh, really?” The other rolls his eyes, “Look at what you were going to water your plants with.”
“Mineral water, that's what-” Jin huffs and tauntingly waves it across Spring's face-only to realize he's holding a glass of juice. Fuck my life.
“Out, now.” Jin commands, and in seconds he has the door unbolted and wide open. “Out. Or I call the police.”
Spring stumbles through the door. “I don't know anybody else-”
Spring could have had desperation glinting in his eyes which could have swayed Jin substantially, but he had already closed the door to ever know if he did. Jin lets a tired sigh slip through his lips and he gulps down the almost half of the contents of his glass in one go. Sleep. I need sleep. Jin has already changed into his sleeping clothes and buried himself underneath his blanket when he remembers something important that somehow slipped his mind a while back. His Iphone. Still with that man. He bounds off his bed, doesn't bother with his slippers, and hastily sprints out of his room.
He curses under his breath, because of all the things he could forget, it just has to be the device that contains all the fruits of his hard-earned labor. All the demos, raw recordings, semi-final mixes of songs he penned himself-it's times like these that Jin is extremely enticed to believe Pi when he says he's an idiot of exquisite caliber. He finally leaps onto the genkan and wrenches the door open, hoping against all hope that the man has not gone far-
Jin sees him seated on the floor of his hall, his back leaning against the wall. His eyes are closed, the Iphone lying on a spot near his folded knee. Josh's name is flashing on the screen as he calls, a trial recording playing softly as a ring tone. The soft melody of the piano makes it Jin's personal favorite out of all that he has written; this one is to be called Eternal.
“It's a good song.” he says, “It's going to be your best work.”
Jin looks at him. “How do you know?”
He chuckles, “I'm a season,” he repeats those words, “Of course I'd know.”
Spring pushes himself up, encloses his fingers around the gadget on the floor, and gets to his feet. He reaches out and hands Jin the phone. “Here.” He does his best to pat his clothes clean, straightens up, and gives him a small salute, “I'm off.”
The image of Spring's back, growing smaller and smaller as he goes farther away, superimposes itself in Jin's mind and makes him feel as if there is a transgression going on. Suddenly it doesn't feel right seeing the other walk away, and there's a nagging voice that tells him abandoning a person (or season) in need is abhorrent in itself. Jin curses at his conscience-because in the next few seconds, he's going to let it get the better of him.
“You can control nature, yet you can't make yourself a decent chair, or, like, a bean bag.” Jin blabbers loudly, just as the other is about to punch the down button on the elevator controls. He coughs a little behind his hand and regains his composure, “Couch.”
He turns back slightly. “What?”
“You can stay.” Jin sighs, finding it embarrassing having to repeat his words of defeat, “You get the couch. Only three months. Make sure the plants survive. Never touch my stuff. And by the time fall comes in, you're out.” His instructions were stern.
Spring softens into a smile.
“Thank you.”
Part 2