{FANFICTION} He remembers...
TITLE: He remembers…
PAIRING: Akame (Akanishi Jin x Kamenashi Kazuya)
RATING: PG
SUMMARY: It was three o’clock one hot summer morning when Jin remembered.
GENRE: Angst, fluff.
DISCLAIMER: Don't own.
It was three o’clock one hot summer morning when Jin remembered.
He remembered those late afternoons when he and Kame would sit in the park, watching ice-creams melt as the sun beat down upon them.
He remembered late-night One Piece marathons, waking up with candy popcorn stuck to his clothes and cookie crumbs in his hair, with Kame sleeping peacefully next to him.
He remembered being seventeen, laughing at the way Kame would stare at girls, as though he were only just seeing them. He thought of the way he would turn bright red, shoving Jin in the stomach before running off home. And Jin would just laugh more, before lazily getting to his feet and following him, ready to apologise.
He remembered being annoyed when Pi and Kame used to fight.
He remembered being even more annoyed when Pi and Kame started getting along.
He remembered the kid underneath those eyebrows and that hair. He remembered the way Kame’s shoulders would poke into him when they hugged; he also remembered the way Kame fit just right.
He remembered that first jolt when Kame walked in with his eyebrows done for the first time and his hair all layered, and he was all kinds of beautiful. And then Jin complained to Pi about it and Kame had overheard and they weren’t speaking to each other anymore. Then poor Pi had to try to talk to each of them separately, until Ryo got fed up and just locked them in a room together.
Jin remembered filming Gokusen, and telling Kame that he would be Hayato. He remembered that burst of happiness when Kame said he was Ryu; it was so exciting that Jin could help but pick him up and twirl him around, ignoring his yelps about how he was no girl. Jin didn’t care.
But soon there were concerts and debut singles and they had no time to spare to even scratch themselves.
With a sinking heart that no longer wanted to remember, Jin thought of Kame’s face as he told them he was leaving for those six months, Kame’s face carefully schooled into a blank expression, staring back at him from across the table.
And yet he had still come over to hand Jin a six-pack of beer and wish him good luck, even though Jin knew that smile was fake.
Jin had thought of nothing but Kame for the first few weeks in America, until he buried himself in parties and nightclubs and alcohol, and even his English homework. He was distracting himself from Kame by pretending to be Kame.
They met, once. And Jin felt those eyes go right through him. Even when Koki was punching walls and Nakamaru was holding his head in his hands and Ueda was yelling, Kame just stared. And that hurt the most.
His heart lightened again when he remembered coming home and going straight to Kame’s place, pulling him close before he had even registered who was at his door. He felt that little breath of air as Kame whispered Jin’s name against his neck, clutching the back of Jin’s shirt desperately.
He remembered lying on Kame’s bed, with Kame folded against him. He could feel Kame’s heartbeat against his own, Kame’s breaths matching his. It should have been weird, lying like this, but it wasn’t. It felt like home.
Jin remembered the way Kame suddenly felt stronger, no longer skinny and bony but muscular, and Jin found that he loved the way Kame would return his hugs with more vigour.
He and Kame always had something special.
It was then that Jin remembered confusing feelings, emotions rushing around his head too fast for him to understand. He remembered that feeling whenever Kame looked this way, whenever Kame touched him. Sometimes it was unbearable, and he would once again turn to alcohol to drown his problems. Jin had always been black and white; he always knew what he was feeling, always knew how to solve problems.
Not that time.
Jin remembered drunken conversations with Ryo, who had slung his arm around Jin’s shoulders and shouted about Jin being in love with Kame. He had then promptly thrown up all over Jin’s shoes, and Jin decided to never speak to him again. Or use those shoes.
But Ryo’s words hit something, and he couldn’t forget them.
So he decided that he was in love with Kame, and it wasn’t as terrifying as he thought it would be.
Jin remembered being on Yamapi’s balcony with beer in one hand and a pleasant buzz inside, screaming his love out for Tokyo to hear. But the only ones who heard were Yamapi and the neighbours’ cat, and he didn’t care.
He loved Kame.
It just seemed right, like it was the only thing that made sense.
Jin remembered his nervousness facing Kame again, but Kame only smiled and Jin was hitting himself because how the hell didn’t he notice he was in love before, with the way his knees went weak.
He remembered the beautiful way Kame confessed, tripping over his words which Jin knew he had written down and rehearsed. He remembered his utter disbelief at Kame’s blush as he said those words, his heartbeat racing. He couldn’t exactly remember that moment he decided to lean forward, but he had done, and he remembered their first kiss, so perfect and amazing and so them.
Nothing changed after that. They would still go drinking with Ryo and Pi, still have One Piece marathons, still fight over who got the sparkly gold controller on Jin’s Xbox.
The only thing that changed was Jin’s taste in music.
Jin remembered how hard it had been to tell Kame that he was thinking of leaving. But Kame had just nodded, disappearing into his bedroom before reappearing with a baseball bat, which he handed to Jin. Kame had told Jin that it was for protection from Koki, who would probably throw himself at him, either to punch him or cry on him. And that was it; that was all they had said until he had told the group, until the rest of the world knew.
And Kame had held Jin that night as he cried like a scared child. And he was scared, absolutely terrified. Jin remembered that terror clutching his heart as he realised that he would be away from everything he knew. Everything would be different, and maybe he wasn’t ready; maybe he didn’t really want this; maybe he just wanted to stay here with Kame; maybe he should go back and say he was joking; maybe he should quit and become a florist.
But he knew nothing about flowers, and he remembered saying so to Kame, who had just looked at him puzzled and drew him closer. Jin didn’t remember anything after that, having fallen asleep in Kame’s lap with Kame’s fingers running through his hair.
And so he found himself here, in his stuffy apartment in L.A., all of the windows open and staring at the blank ceiling above his bed.
He missed Kame. He missed everyone, really, and no amount of tweeting about it would ebb his loneliness. Jin rolled to the side to check his phone once again, but there was still nothing from anyone. Not even Taguchi, who would text him daily, even though he never responded.
Jin missed the way Kame would look at him bleary-eyed in the mornings, his hair sticking up at all angles and his shirt falling off his shoulder. He missed the way Kame would kiss that mole next to his eye as they were falling asleep. He missed those Sunday morning sleep-ins, with Kame curled up against him and the sun lazily peeking in through their curtains.
Jin didn’t know when it had become seven thirty. He didn’t have to get up until midday, when his manager had scheduled in some music thing. Jin had lost count of all the different places he visited each day.
He stared at his phone again, wondering if he should get up, or just stay there and keep remembering things from back then. There were days, like this, when he was incredibly homesick, and all he wanted to do was fly back home and wrap his arms around Kame like he used to. But normally, he was too busy with remembering these lyrics and those dance moves and meeting important music people to think about what he was missing back home.
And then darkness fell, and he was left alone with his thoughts, without any of his American friends to distract him.
He wondered what time it was in Japan. He was never good with the times.
Suddenly his phone buzzed, and he jumped.
Hey, it read, I was just thinking about you.
Jin smiled. I was just thinking about you, too. I love you.
I love you, too, Kame wrote back. Now come and pick me up from the airport.
END.
PAIRING: Akame (Akanishi Jin x Kamenashi Kazuya)
RATING: PG
SUMMARY: It was three o’clock one hot summer morning when Jin remembered.
GENRE: Angst, fluff.
DISCLAIMER: Don't own.
It was three o’clock one hot summer morning when Jin remembered.
He remembered those late afternoons when he and Kame would sit in the park, watching ice-creams melt as the sun beat down upon them.
He remembered late-night One Piece marathons, waking up with candy popcorn stuck to his clothes and cookie crumbs in his hair, with Kame sleeping peacefully next to him.
He remembered being seventeen, laughing at the way Kame would stare at girls, as though he were only just seeing them. He thought of the way he would turn bright red, shoving Jin in the stomach before running off home. And Jin would just laugh more, before lazily getting to his feet and following him, ready to apologise.
He remembered being annoyed when Pi and Kame used to fight.
He remembered being even more annoyed when Pi and Kame started getting along.
He remembered the kid underneath those eyebrows and that hair. He remembered the way Kame’s shoulders would poke into him when they hugged; he also remembered the way Kame fit just right.
He remembered that first jolt when Kame walked in with his eyebrows done for the first time and his hair all layered, and he was all kinds of beautiful. And then Jin complained to Pi about it and Kame had overheard and they weren’t speaking to each other anymore. Then poor Pi had to try to talk to each of them separately, until Ryo got fed up and just locked them in a room together.
Jin remembered filming Gokusen, and telling Kame that he would be Hayato. He remembered that burst of happiness when Kame said he was Ryu; it was so exciting that Jin could help but pick him up and twirl him around, ignoring his yelps about how he was no girl. Jin didn’t care.
But soon there were concerts and debut singles and they had no time to spare to even scratch themselves.
With a sinking heart that no longer wanted to remember, Jin thought of Kame’s face as he told them he was leaving for those six months, Kame’s face carefully schooled into a blank expression, staring back at him from across the table.
And yet he had still come over to hand Jin a six-pack of beer and wish him good luck, even though Jin knew that smile was fake.
Jin had thought of nothing but Kame for the first few weeks in America, until he buried himself in parties and nightclubs and alcohol, and even his English homework. He was distracting himself from Kame by pretending to be Kame.
They met, once. And Jin felt those eyes go right through him. Even when Koki was punching walls and Nakamaru was holding his head in his hands and Ueda was yelling, Kame just stared. And that hurt the most.
His heart lightened again when he remembered coming home and going straight to Kame’s place, pulling him close before he had even registered who was at his door. He felt that little breath of air as Kame whispered Jin’s name against his neck, clutching the back of Jin’s shirt desperately.
He remembered lying on Kame’s bed, with Kame folded against him. He could feel Kame’s heartbeat against his own, Kame’s breaths matching his. It should have been weird, lying like this, but it wasn’t. It felt like home.
Jin remembered the way Kame suddenly felt stronger, no longer skinny and bony but muscular, and Jin found that he loved the way Kame would return his hugs with more vigour.
He and Kame always had something special.
It was then that Jin remembered confusing feelings, emotions rushing around his head too fast for him to understand. He remembered that feeling whenever Kame looked this way, whenever Kame touched him. Sometimes it was unbearable, and he would once again turn to alcohol to drown his problems. Jin had always been black and white; he always knew what he was feeling, always knew how to solve problems.
Not that time.
Jin remembered drunken conversations with Ryo, who had slung his arm around Jin’s shoulders and shouted about Jin being in love with Kame. He had then promptly thrown up all over Jin’s shoes, and Jin decided to never speak to him again. Or use those shoes.
But Ryo’s words hit something, and he couldn’t forget them.
So he decided that he was in love with Kame, and it wasn’t as terrifying as he thought it would be.
Jin remembered being on Yamapi’s balcony with beer in one hand and a pleasant buzz inside, screaming his love out for Tokyo to hear. But the only ones who heard were Yamapi and the neighbours’ cat, and he didn’t care.
He loved Kame.
It just seemed right, like it was the only thing that made sense.
Jin remembered his nervousness facing Kame again, but Kame only smiled and Jin was hitting himself because how the hell didn’t he notice he was in love before, with the way his knees went weak.
He remembered the beautiful way Kame confessed, tripping over his words which Jin knew he had written down and rehearsed. He remembered his utter disbelief at Kame’s blush as he said those words, his heartbeat racing. He couldn’t exactly remember that moment he decided to lean forward, but he had done, and he remembered their first kiss, so perfect and amazing and so them.
Nothing changed after that. They would still go drinking with Ryo and Pi, still have One Piece marathons, still fight over who got the sparkly gold controller on Jin’s Xbox.
The only thing that changed was Jin’s taste in music.
Jin remembered how hard it had been to tell Kame that he was thinking of leaving. But Kame had just nodded, disappearing into his bedroom before reappearing with a baseball bat, which he handed to Jin. Kame had told Jin that it was for protection from Koki, who would probably throw himself at him, either to punch him or cry on him. And that was it; that was all they had said until he had told the group, until the rest of the world knew.
And Kame had held Jin that night as he cried like a scared child. And he was scared, absolutely terrified. Jin remembered that terror clutching his heart as he realised that he would be away from everything he knew. Everything would be different, and maybe he wasn’t ready; maybe he didn’t really want this; maybe he just wanted to stay here with Kame; maybe he should go back and say he was joking; maybe he should quit and become a florist.
But he knew nothing about flowers, and he remembered saying so to Kame, who had just looked at him puzzled and drew him closer. Jin didn’t remember anything after that, having fallen asleep in Kame’s lap with Kame’s fingers running through his hair.
And so he found himself here, in his stuffy apartment in L.A., all of the windows open and staring at the blank ceiling above his bed.
He missed Kame. He missed everyone, really, and no amount of tweeting about it would ebb his loneliness. Jin rolled to the side to check his phone once again, but there was still nothing from anyone. Not even Taguchi, who would text him daily, even though he never responded.
Jin missed the way Kame would look at him bleary-eyed in the mornings, his hair sticking up at all angles and his shirt falling off his shoulder. He missed the way Kame would kiss that mole next to his eye as they were falling asleep. He missed those Sunday morning sleep-ins, with Kame curled up against him and the sun lazily peeking in through their curtains.
Jin didn’t know when it had become seven thirty. He didn’t have to get up until midday, when his manager had scheduled in some music thing. Jin had lost count of all the different places he visited each day.
He stared at his phone again, wondering if he should get up, or just stay there and keep remembering things from back then. There were days, like this, when he was incredibly homesick, and all he wanted to do was fly back home and wrap his arms around Kame like he used to. But normally, he was too busy with remembering these lyrics and those dance moves and meeting important music people to think about what he was missing back home.
And then darkness fell, and he was left alone with his thoughts, without any of his American friends to distract him.
He wondered what time it was in Japan. He was never good with the times.
Suddenly his phone buzzed, and he jumped.
Hey, it read, I was just thinking about you.
Jin smiled. I was just thinking about you, too. I love you.
I love you, too, Kame wrote back. Now come and pick me up from the airport.
END.