Fandom: KAT-TUN
Characters: Kame, Jin, Koki. Also Yamapi, Maru, Junno, and other JE idols.
Pairings: Akame
Genre: Humour
Rating: R, yaoi, rps
Status: Complete
A/N: Written for Nano. Thank you to
becroberts and
darkgloom for the great beta jobs.
Jin sighed tiredly as he closed the door after Koki’s departure and leaned against it. Koki had been so incensed at Jin that he’d forgotten about the reason he came to see him, which meant that he’d had to come up to Jin’s door again after he had stormed away in disgust. Which had the effect, of course, of Jin freaking out all over again and hoping to God that
the hot assassin would just stay in his bedroom and let Koki rant at him in peace.
Jin had uncharacteristically held his tongue, defending himself minimally, earning himself a suspicious look and a gritted warning of exactly what Koki would do if he spotted Jin downstairs that evening, regardless of whether he had on the heels and the wig or any of the other ridiculously sparkly disguises he was so fond of wearing. Jin had nodded dutifully, being completely honest when he assured Koki about not having the urge to wander down that evening in the slightest.
Jin had been so relieved at the absence of any hot assassins that he hadn’t even batted an eye when Koki outlined Johnny-san’s request of sluttier dancing and less soulful singing and just nodded furiously, desperate to get Koki out of his rooms.
Koki had looked long and hard at him, suspicious of the lack of his usual whining and complaining, but left without too much talking, flinging his arms upwards in exasperation and muttering about idiot singers and their screwed up priorities.
The trouble he went to, Jin thought, sighing in a put-upon manner, to get himself laid. He rubbed his forehead wearily as he rounded the corner and neared the closet in which he had pushed his would-be killer in.
Wait. He stopped walking when a thought intruded in his head. The hot guy had said no to sleeping with him. He’d said no. He frowned unhappily. Did that mean that he’d put himself through all that for nothing?
Apart from the trivial fact of his and Koki’s lives being in danger, the sole logical voice of reason in his brain pointed out, and was soundly ignored in favour of more pressing concerns.
The absolute nerve of it, he fumed, his forehead crinkling into a deep frown. That jerk should be grateful that someone as awesome and pretty and talented as Jin would ever consent, would even deign to acknowledge his paltry existence, much less offer to actually go to bed with him.
He had built himself a nice head of steam by the time he stepped in front of the closet. The complete gall of the guy, no matter how hot he was, he thought furiously, to refuse him - him! And what’s more, not even being even vaguely excited or even apologetic at the offer. How dare he?
He was Akanishi Jin, dammit, and most people would cry in joy if he even so much as looked at them. No-one refused him, okay, no-one, even if they were drunk out of their asses at the club. Especially if they were drunk out of their asses, the stupid shits. His eyes flashed with determination as he gripped the door of the closet.
“I don’t care what you say, you are…” Jin’s voice petered out as the closet door slid open. He stopped talking abruptly when he realized that the closet was, in fact, completely devoid of any men, whether hot or not.
“What the…” Jin trailed off as he slid the closet door open fully and peered inside. No, there was absolutely no sign of the man Jin had left in there at all. He slowly slid the door shut, breathing in deeply as he turned around, his eyes searching the room. He hadn’t even been gone that long, where had the guy vanished to-
“Are you looking for me?”
Jin gasped when he felt a cold finger poke the back of his neck. He whirled around, and then the finger was trailing over his collarbones. Jin screamed and jumped backwards, his arms flailing like a windmill.
When he could finally get his breathing under control, he glared at the man facing him. “Don’t do that!”
“Sensitive spot?” the other asked, smirking wickedly, eyes glinting with something that Jin refused to put a name to on the grounds that it made him feel weak in the knees, and an expression that looked suspiciously like he was trying to hold back laughter.
“No,” Jin refused emphatically.
“Really? Then you wouldn’t mind if I touched you there again-”
Jin backed away hastily, palms held up in front of him. “No that’s quite okay, really.”
Kame grinned and walked forward slowly, eyes fixed on Jin. Jin gulped and walked backwards, only stopping when his back hit something hard and unyielding. He glanced once to the side. The balcony door.
“I should thank you for not telling your bodyguard about me,” Kame murmured, stepping towards Jin. “I do so hate unnecessary bloodshed. Especially when I'm wearing my vintage suit, you know,” he explained in an earnest voice.
Jin eyed the man for a minute. “It does look very nice," he said honestly, and was rewarded with a brilliant smile. The guy was so cute it was unfair. He sighed. "Would you really have killed him?” he asked in the end, morbidly curious.
Kame pursed his lips, thinking. “I would probably have killed you both.”
“Oh.” Jin replied in a small voice, eyes falling to the floor. “And now?”
“Now,” Kame mused, his gaze trailing over the tense figure silhouetted against the glass of the balcony doors, “I have to decide what to do with you.”
“I had really hoped that we were past all this,” Jin offered earnestly. “I promise I won’t speak about you to anyone.”
“You’d best take care to keep that promise,” Kame muttered. “If you don’t want me to come back and finish what I started.” He didn’t know why he didn’t just shoot the idiot and get it over with.
Jin shuddered and nodded.
“And if you don’t,” Kame continued, arching a brow at Jin, “…there’s always next time.” Jin thought he sounded suspiciously happier at that last part.
Jin bit his lip and looked up to see the man put his hat back on. “Wait, you’re just going now?”
Kame grinned. “I hadn’t realized that you wanted me to stay.”
“I don’t,” Jin assured him hastily. “No, wait, that didn’t come out like I wanted…” he trailed off in confusion. Kame shook his head as he turned away.
“Wait,” Jin called out, latching on to the other man’s shoulder. “Will you come back? I mean, just, you know, to visit,” he explained, when the other blinked.
Kame cocked his head at him. “You’re asking me to come back?”
“Well, not if you want to kill me,” Jin corrected, breaking into a sheepish grin at the laughter that issued from the other man’s lips as he opened the door to the balcony and stepped out.
“Ooh, is that how you came in?” Jin asked, glancing outside curiously and then snapped his head towards the other, suddenly hit by a thought. “Wait!” he shouted, seeing the other stop and quirk an enquiring brow at him.
“You didn’t even tell me - I mean, I don’t even know your name,” Jin said, stepping closer and biting his lips. He inhaled sharply when the other man turned. They were so close that Jin could almost feel his breath on his lips. He let out a sigh and closed his eyes in breathy expectation.
“Kamenashi,” came the whisper. “It’s Kamenashi.”
“Kamenashi,” Jin repeated and waited for a kiss that never came. By the time he opened his eyes, there was no-one in the room and the balcony door was wide open. He shook himself out of the mental daze and ran outside, leaning over the balcony railings to peer over the edge. He didn’t see anyone.
“I’ll be waiting for you, Kame-chan!” he yelled out, confident that Kamenashi could hear him, wherever the hell he was.
---
Jin was wearing a wide smile as he bowed, and laughed breathlessly as he ran backstage. He nodded a grateful thank you to Koki, who silently handed him a towel. Koki stared at him as Jin started mopping his face with uncharacteristic vigour.
“Will you tell me what happened already, Jin? I’m dying of suspense here.”
“Hm?” Jin didn’t look up from where he was bent halfway down, towelling his sweaty hair. He finished, flung the towel over his shoulder and straightened up, blinking.
“What do you mean, what happened?” he asked absently, grabbing a bottle of water and drinking from it.
Koki made an impatient noise and gestured at the stage. “You know, it’s just… lately it seems as if you’ve just started performing on stage - you’re so into it, like an Energizer bunny on crack.”
Jin wrinkled his nose at the metaphor.
“You know what I mean,” Koki mused. “You’re so enthusiastic. Just a month ago, you were completely jaded and always whining and complaining, ready to quit at the least provocation and picking meaningless fights with the other performers here.” He leaned back against the wall patiently, waiting for Jin to finish drinking. “What changed?”
Jin looked up at Koki, blinking innocently at Koki’s question. “Nothing happened, Koki. I’ve told you that almost as many times as you asked me.”
“And you’re still as bad a liar as ever,” Koki retorted, snorting in disbelief, looking grumpily at the singer. Jin didn’t reply to the statement, merely flashed Koki a brilliant smile, bounding over to the stage just in time for his next performance.
---
It really was amazing how a near death experience could manage to rejuvenate a person so much, Jin thought dryly when he was alone at his suite after his performance that night. He had never realized just how many everyday things that he had taken for granted before he started appreciating them.
So many people had remarked on his drastic change of attitude that Jin had actually been a little bit insulted. He hadn’t been that bad before, had he? He certainly didn’t think so.
He smiled wanly when he recalled Koki’s earlier words to him as he sat at the table preparing to dig into his favourite meal of pasta.
It wasn’t like he could tell anyone, especially Koki, about his… experience, though. Jin shuddered when he imagined Koki’s and Johnny-san’s reactions if he ever revealed the truth. No, he thought with a shiver, better never to go there; that way lay madness.
He frowned when a thought occurred to him. It had been more than a month since he’d met Kamenashi, and he’d seen neither hide nor hair of the man since.
Jin chewed his pasta, deep in thought. He wondered if Kamenashi would ever come back - after all, he wasn’t obliged to, since he didn’t need to kill Jin now. Jin very much hoped he didn’t, anyway.
He didn’t like to admit it, but life had been somewhat boring before Kame had sneaked his way into his room, turning it completely topsy-turvy. He wondered when it would be that he could see Kamena- no, Kame again, or if he even would.
He walked out to the balcony and looked longingly out, sighing heavily, the cool night air breezing against his skin. It seemed like the dull monotony wouldn’t be broken for at least one more day. A stronger gust of wind made his hair fluff up and his teeth chatter, the thin t-shirt he was wearing not being enough protection for the cold. Maybe he could fling himself over the balcony and climb down the building like Spiderman, he thought idly. Maybe he could even put on a disguise and go looking for the guy. He put his arms around himself tightly, staring unseeing down the twenty floors, his ideas growing crazier and more insane with each passing moment.
“Aren’t singers supposed to take care of their voices?”
Jin whipped his head to the side wildly , seeing nothing at first, his heart jumping to his throat. He whirled around so fast that he lost his balance and stumbled down to the floor, landing flat on his butt.
“Ow,” he groaned through the ringing in his ears.
“…And take care of their bodies, as well?” No doubt about it. Jin was totally being laughed at.
“Shut up.” Jin glared up in the vague direction of the voice. “I was perfectly fine until you came and gave me a mini heart attack- wait…”
Jin widened his eyes, the hand rubbing his butt going still. “You’re here! You came!”
Kame leaned against the wall. “I didn’t have anything better to do, so I thought I’d take you up on your offer.”
“My offer!” Jin’s eyes widened hopefully. “So you'll sleep with me?”
“…To visit you. Your offer of visiting you,” Kame said, deadpan.
Jin pouted and got up. “Fine, then. See if I ever ask you again.”
Kame pushed off from the wall and walked inside the door, rolling his eyes. Jin sulked along behind him.
---
Kame’s visits were few and far between, and Jin never knew when he would be coming in. One day he would turn around after showering (God, Kame was such a pervert, Jin was lucky he hadn’t broken something slipping in the bathroom), or eating, or in one memorable case, while heartily playing air guitar and listening to Hendrix. Kame would magically be there, leaning against a wall or sitting patiently in a chair.
Jin never knew how Kame could get in and out without him ever knowing, or even triggering any of the alarms that Johnny-san had painstakingly ordered to be set outside his rooms. He sometimes wondered if Kame was like that girl in X-Men, who could walk through walls. He thought it would be the coolest thing ever if that were true.
Jin kept making up elaborate fantasies when he was feeling especially bored; stupid things like Kame getting him out of the stuffy club and them running away together. Johnny-san’s thugs would never, ever catch them because they would be like Bonnie and Clyde, except with less blood and more escaping so there probably wouldn’t be as many bullets. Jin was a complete wuss when it came to blood, so he would probably ask Kame to pack his gun away or something.
Jin never really described any of his wild daydreams out loud, though; those would stay safe and locked up in his head. He didn’t want Kame to look at him like he was any more of an idiot than he already did.
He talked to Kame a lot about other things, though. Jin found himself telling Kame about his childhood, growing up in a foster home and running away and sleeping on the streets. He even told Kame about the time when he had stolen the lunch menu whiteboard from a restaurant and went to give it back when he felt bad about it, which was where he had met Johnny-san for the first time.
All Kame did most of the time was sit quietly and listen for the most part, though he did interject the occasional wayward deprecating comment and dry remark from time to time, and laugh at Jin’s ensuing outrage. For Jin, it was the first time he had had someone to talk to, someone that he could be close to without anyone specifying who and how much he was allowed to.
Jin had been more or less shut up in a glass cage for what felt like a long time, and he seized the chance to experience life with Kame with a certain gleeful abandon.
Jin really, really liked Kame. He wasn’t very comfortable with what Kame did for a living, though, so he tried really hard to forget all about it. Jin liked that Kame was (mostly) quiet, liked that he would let Jin chatter on about so many things and never tell him that he was annoying and that he should shut up, like so many other people. He liked Kame’s small, infrequent, but genuine smiles and his dry wit. And although his strange impressions of people confused Jin a lot, it never failed to send him into paroxysms of laughter, while Kame looked on, shaking his head and being long-suffering. He also really liked that Kame was so easy on the eyes, but was a bit ashamed of that part of him because it made him feel rather shallow.
But one of the things that Jin really liked about Kame was that he would never, ever disappoint Jin after a performance. Whether Jin had performed on stage, or whether he was just practising with no-one but Kame for company. If he watched it, and Jin asked for his opinion, he would give it. Kame would always speak candidly - what he liked in the performance, what he didn’t. Jin grew to appreciate his honesty, difficult to take sometimes as it was. He really, really liked that Kame, infrequent audience that he was, still appreciated his love of music much, much more than the hooting crowd of regulars he performed for almost every week.
Jin particularly remembered the time when, thinking he was alone, he had sung his most recent composition, his voice resounding through the emptiness of the suite, the piano notes merging with the pitter-patter of the raindrops as they drizzled against the windows. He hadn’t thought Kame would come, given the weather, and had looked up in startled surprise at the sound of quiet clapping when he was done. Kame had been sitting quietly in a corner, arms around his legs and his head resting on his drawn-up knees. Jin had idly wondered how long he had been there before pouncing happily on Kame. Jin could still remember the outrage in Kame’s voice as he stoutly refuted Jin’s logic (“If you call me cute one more time, I will kill you, you ass” and “No I will not paint my gun pink, are you out of your tiny mind?”) and attempted to escape his grabby arms.
Jin didn’t know how to play the piano all that well, just knew enough to make do, so he only ever played when he thought he was alone. He was in the middle of composing a song, a maudlin song about solitude and loneliness, when Kame had appeared in the room in his usual way. He had been equal parts flattered and embarrassed about Kame seeing him, and had stuttered a “thank you”, stubbornly refusing to blush.
“Do you think of anything - or anyone while singing that?” Kame had asked curiously.
“Not particularly,” he had admitted, then continued, “but I think everyone thinks of something like that from time to time, so it wouldn’t be that hard to imagine, right?”
Kame hadn’t said anything back, merely shrugged and smiled a little, but his unsaid approval had meant more to Jin than any of the screaming, frenzied yells that normally followed all his other performances in the club.
---
Kame found that he was amused, exasperated and entertained the whole time he spent with Jin; and that, he argued with himself, was the only reason that he kept coming back. Kame had never really met anyone quite like Jin before in his life, which had been until now, smooth, perfect and completely in his control; and, he had to admit, just the slightest bit dull. He used to brush off any unnecessary feelings as a needless distraction, and kept doing his job in the best way he could, as he had been taught: perfectly and following all the rules. Until now. Until Jin.
Coming to see Jin was now one of the highlights of his life, no matter how much he wanted to deny it. Jin was the first distraction that he’d allowed himself to have, in so many years, and he approached Jin like he would a shiny new weapon - cautious, careful, but rapidly becoming addicted, no matter how much he wanted to pretend otherwise.
The latter point was illustrated to him vividly one day when he actually startled Jin so badly that Jin dropped the chocolate mousse in his hand, the one he had been drooling over for the past minute.
After the initial yelling, complaining, accusing and some extremely creative name-calling, Kame had been very befuddled when Jin picked up a spoon and got down on his knees in front of the upside-down, sorry-looking bowl of dessert on the floor. He stared as Jin carefully lifted the bowl clean off the mousse and sat cross legged right next to it, licking his lips and gripping the spoon.
Kame had asked incredulously whether Jin was actually doing what he thought he was doing. Jin had sent Kame a look and had replied that, yes, that was probably the case, why else would anyone sit down with a spoon, and sent an arch look towards Kame. Kame had muttered disparagingly about germs and cheap celebrities and Jin had retorted that it was Kame’s fault anyway for scaring the crap out of him “right when he was about to eat the most divine dessert ever”. Besides, Jin had added in a pious voice, Kame, of all people should know how he never, ever wasted food.
Jin had then used the spoon to delicately cream off and eat the mousse, starting from the top, until there was only a thin film left over where it had actually come in contact with the ground. Jin had thrown a reluctant gaze at it before wiping the floor clean with a tissue and grinned widely at Kame. Kame had looked at Jin kneeling in front of him, at his sparkling eyes and the spoon poking out of Jin’s mouth and the pink tongue peeking out to lick at the plump lips, and had to clench his fists and take deep breaths in order to not embarrass himself by throwing himself at Jin and ripping his clothes off.
---
Kame would never admit it to Jin, but he tried to catch his performances when he could. He found himself frequenting the club more often, sitting on the quiet side of the bar, inconspicuous and far away, watching Jin. Because there was always something special about Jin, some vulnerability (or idiocy, Kame liked to think in his more uncharitable days) that made him come, again and again, to watch Jin sing, to watch him move around the stage more pure and graceful than he had ever seen him, to just - watch Jin. He had more or less made peace with himself for his newfound eccentricities.
What was new was the sharp flash of unexpected anger that flared through him when he saw one of the regulars - a rich one, by the look of him - insist loudly and drunkenly to have Jin brought to his table so he could personally congratulate him on his performance. He struggled to maintain an even expression, and had to hide his face by turning away and focusing on his drink.
From the corner of his eye, he could see Johnny’s oily smile and consenting nod and Kame figured that Jin wouldn’t really have a choice in the matter. Sure enough, a visibly uncomfortable Jin soon made his way to the VIP area, looking like he was going to his execution, his bodyguard trailing behind him and Johnny striding deliberately in front of him.
Kame had seen Jin hesitate, and then walk forward at Johnny’s impatient nod. Afterward they had moved inside the rooms and Kame had lost sight of him.
That night, when he had carefully slid the balcony door open, it was to a completely dark apartment. He had quietly slipped in and determined that there was no-one in the rooms. Jin was unexpectedly nowhere to be seen.
Kame frowned in thought. The clothes that Jin had worn for the performance were lying carelessly in front of the bathroom, as were his coat and shoes; it was just Jin himself who was missing.
Kame’s mind had drawn a very unpleasant conclusion and he tightened his lips. There were all sorts of rumours about Johnny’s artistes in the street, the most well known being that they all had a price, but Kame had sincerely hoped it wasn’t true.
He had been slowly but surely falling into icy rage with every minute he spent thinking of the possibilities when he heard faint sounds coming from one corner of the bedroom.
Kame had narrowed his eyes and strained to make out the sound, walking slowly towards the source, hand moving towards his gun. He stopped abruptly when he recognised the sound of regular, deep breathing. Kame looked quizzically at the corner. There was nothing there but a chair on one side of the wall and a closet on the other - wait, a closet… Considering Jin’s strange affection for the things… He rolled his eyes as he gingerly picked his way through all the scraps of fur and glittery fabric that littered the floor of the bedroom.
Kame slid the door open gently. He didn’t see anything at first, but as his sight adjusted to the dark, he gradually made out the fuzzy figure of Jin, who seemed to be huddled in one corner of the voluminous closet, arms around his knees and head tilted against the wall, fast asleep.
He watched the scene for a long minute, feeling something in his chest loosen and ease as he reluctantly stretched a hand out to wake Jin up. He didn’t really want to, because Jin looked exhausted and probably needed the sleep, but clearly that position would not be good for him. Not to mention the fact that he was inside a closet. Kame winced when he tried to imagine the deafening shrieks that would probably be the result of Jin waking up in a cold, dark, and unfamiliar box in the morning.
“Jin,” he called out softly. “Jin, wake up.”
Jin shifted a bit, but didn’t wake. Kame shook him harder. “Jin. Wake up.”
Jin opened his eyes slowly, reluctantly. “Don’t wanna… go ‘way,” he mumbled, then tried to turn his back on whoever was cruel enough to try to wake him up then.
“Jin, you’d better get up from there if you want to be able to stand tomorrow. That position you’re in seriously looks like hell on your back.”
Jin groaned and reluctantly opened his eyes, his tired gaze trying to focus through the heaviness in his head. “What the hell…” There was an indistinct outline of someone right in front of him. “What…” he repeated, squinting his eyes.
He blinked when the blurry figure actually became clearer. “…Kame?” he croaked, voice rough with sleep.
The figure in front of him didn’t reply, just pulled softly at his shoulders.
“Kame, is that you?” Jin shook his head lightly, earning himself a small whack on the face by a strip of cloth dangling over him. Was Kame really here? He hadn’t come over for weeks and now he was trying to pull Jin towards him and wake him up, and hey, why was Kame waking him up again, wait - he froze as he remembered the events of the previous evening.
“Kame!” he half-groaned, half-shouted as he surged forward and wrapped his hands tightly around the other.
Kame blinked in surprise when he found Jin suddenly wrapped around him. “Jin?”
Jin didn’t look up, tightening his arms around Kame, and snuggling his head into his shirt instead. He noted in a corner of his mind that it smelled distinctly of Kame before shutting his eyes and trying his utmost to shut his brain down as well.
“Jin, what is it?” He shuddered at the soft hand that trailed lightly up his back and clutched at his hair. He looked up at the gentle tug on his hair and directly into Kame’s concerned gaze.
“Um,” he said intelligently. “I had a really bad dream..?” he offered. Kame didn’t even bother being concerned, he thought indignantly, he just sat there with an unimpressed look.
Jin couldn’t meet the intense eyes and looked away. “Nothing,” he replied quickly. “It’s nothing.”
“Really,” Kame murmured, sighing and settling down cross legged on the floor beside Jin.
“Yes,” Jin said uncertainly, keeping his eyes fixed on the floor and away from Kame.
“So what happened after you went up to see the rich guy with Johnny?” Kame asked softly, after a few seconds of silence.
Jin froze at the question. How did Kame know about that, unless…
“You were there?” he asked in surprise. “You saw me?”
Kame nodded, shrugging. “I was bored tonight, thought I’d come watch you.” Jin felt a tiny spark of delight and instantly suppressed it. Kame was still talking. “Just tell me, okay,” he muttered, frowning at Jin.
Jin shook his head and tried to untangle his arms from Kame, who was having none of it. Jin shot a panicked look at Kame, finally managing to shrug off his arms after a few seconds of determined struggling and retreated inside the closet. Kame made an exasperated noise and crawled over to tug at Jin, who stubbornly refused to come out.
Kame finally flung his hands up in frustration and pushed at Jin, urging him to one side and trying to make room before he climbed into the stuffy closet too. Ugh. He hated closets. He grunted when his elbow caught on something he didn’t want to know. He sat down gingerly.
“Kame, what the hell do you think you are doing-” Jin hissed. Kame paid no attention to him, instead focusing on carefully untangling a ribbon of tinsel from his shirt button.
“Well, you wouldn’t come out,” he replied in a distracted tone, then let out a satisfied hum when the tinsel was safely separated from his vintage shirt. Jin glared at him.
“This closet isn’t big enough for two,” he grumbled, when Kame showed no sign of moving. Kame stared at him expectantly. “Then let’s both get out.”
“I will not,” Jin replied with dignity. “I want to stay here.”
“ All right then,” Kame replied, unconcerned, and settled down more comfortably.
“…I hate you, Kame,” Jin muttered, feeling his irritation spike when Kame just nodded indifferently.
Both of them sat in silence for a minute, Jin shifting every two seconds, his lower lip jutting out stubbornly.
“Jin,” Kame finally sighed, when Jin had sat obstinately silent for more than five minutes. It must’ve been some sort of record.
“Nothing happened, okay,” Jin sulked, paying no attention to Kame’s disbelieving stare.
“You are a shitty liar, Akanishi.”
“Why do people keep telling me that,” he muttered in irritation, pointedly not responding to Kame’s snort. “Because it happens to be true,” Kame said sweetly, and ducked away from Jin’s half-hearted punch.
“But I’m telling the truth!” Jin spluttered. “He just, he called me up there and wanted me to sing a few bars of the ballad!”
“And that was all?” Kame raised an eyebrow. “Why are you hiding in your closet then?”
“I'm not hiding, all right,” Jin snapped. “I’m just. Relishing the quiet, that’s all.”
“Right,” Kame had a highly unimpressed expression on his face. “And?”
“And, nothing. I sang, he said he wanted me to sing again and that was it.”
Kame cocked his head. “And that was all?”
“Yes,” came the reluctant response.
“And did you?”
“Did I what?” Jin looked confused.
“Sing,” Kame said patiently.
“No,” Jin replied, and mumbled something.
Kame strained to hear it, but wasn’t very successful at it. “What was that, sorry?”
“I said, he wanted me to sing for him later.”
“…Later as in when, exactly?” Kame prompted. Getting answers from Jin was like pulling teeth, all the more frustrating when Kame usually had problems getting him to shut up.
“His, um, his birthday this weekend.”
“So he wants you to sing happy birthday for him on stage here, what’s the big deal-” Kame interjected, eyebrows knitting in a puzzled frown.
“No,” Jin interrupted, blushing so hard that Kame could feel the heat radiating from him. “He wants me to go over to his house and sing there.”
Kame stared. “He what?”
Jin shifted uncomfortably. “Shut up.”
“He, he wants you to, to…” Kame wondered why he was so surprised. He’d been expecting something like this for quite a while.
“You heard me and I’m not saying it again,” Jin mumbled, and banged his head on his knees. “Oh God, how embarrassing. I can’t imagine going there and singing for him, no matter how small the party. He’s like. Forty, and old.”
Kame said nothing for a long minute. When he spoke, his voice was deliberately dispassionate. “Let me get this straight. He told you he wants you to go to his house for his birthday, and that it’s going to be a. A small… party… and you believe that he wants you to. Sing. For him.”
Jin blinked, puzzled. “Well, yes. That’s what he told me. Johnny-san said I should and everything. I mean, what else would he want me to do, I’m a singer, you know. Besides,” he added, nodding; “I would totally suck if he wanted me to be a waiter or something. Ueda, the bartender, says it’s a good thing I can sing because if I had to work with glassware and things, I’d kill myself,” Jin grinned. “Uebo’s nice, though,” he said as an afterthought. “He lets me have free drinks sometimes.”
Kame continued to stare at Jin blankly.
“I don’t want to go,” Jin whined. “It’s going to be so boring and I hate birthday parties when they’re not my own. Stupid Matsumoto’s gonna make fun of me all season, I swear. Oh God, how awful. And fuck, I’m supposed to sing whatever he wants because Johnny-san said so and it’ll be so strange singing like, stupid Dean Martin or something, in front of someone I barely know and they’re all going to just stare at me, Kame!”
“What’s his name?” Kame asked finally.
“Oh, I don’t know, Fujioka something. Why?”
“Isn’t that the industrialist who divorced his wife recently and is rumored to be gay?” Kame asked.
“Probably,” Jin yawned. “What does that have to do with anything - wait, never mind, it doesn’t matter. I don’t discriminate.”
Kame stared down at Jin, who was clutching at his shirt and nodding off to sleep and wondered how he could possibly actually like the company of anyone who was quite this dim.
---
A week later, when Jin was despondently trying to choose what to wear for the ‘oldy party’, as he had dubbed it in his head, he heard three knocks at the door and Koki’s loud voice following it.
“You’ll never guess what happened,” Koki grinned as he sauntered in, whistling a cheerful tune.
“What?” Jin asked, turning away glumly. He was supposed to leave in an hour.
“You don’t need to go tonight.”
“Okay,” Jin sighed, then stopped suddenly, his eyes slowly widening. “Hey, wait…” He whirled towards Koki. “What did you just say?”
Koki grinned widely. “That guy, Fujioka Kazuma? He was in an accident yesterday night, died early today. So you don’t need to go and, er, sing... for him anymore. Unless, of course, you’re particularly fond of funerals.” Koki sat on the edge of the couch and folded his arms.
“Oh, thank God.” Jin sank on to the couch in relief, and then opened his eyes in alarm. “No, wait, I didn’t mean it quite how it came out…”
Koki rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t blame you. He was a pervy old bastard.”
“Koki,” Jin hissed, lowering his voice and looking back and forth. “You shouldn’t say stuff like that about the recently dead, what if they’re still here?”
“You’re such a wimp,” Koki teased.
“Shut up.”
Jin was still looking nervously around when Koki left the rooms.
As Koki had predicted, Jin’s gaining popularity led to a flurry of unforgettable incidents. One night when Jin had been standing backstage prior to his performance, a crazed fan, who had managed to gain employment in the club as one of the stagehands, lost his head and ambushed him. He had pushed Jin to the floor and had managed to tear off most of Jin’s costume in fifteen seconds with a knife before Koki could get to Jin in the confusion.
When he finally did, Jin had been a shaking, shrieking mess and in absolutely no condition to go on stage. The audience had not appreciated the cancellation of Jin’s act one bit, and the only performers brave enough to replace him had been the Kinki duo.
The audience was rowdier than ever these days, and Jin soon became used to ignoring the loud demands and insinuations that inevitably followed his performances. Many of the other performers were in the same boat, although Jin’s fans seemed to be the most bold.
“Clearly as insane as their favourite singer,” Matsumoto had remarked snidely, flipping her long, black hair over her shoulder. Koki had to restrain Jin from pouncing on her and tearing her hair out.
One day it had gotten so bad that Jin had snapped and yelled out on stage that he would never have sex without love, his frustration peaking in the heat of the moment. He then had to endure all the unsympathetic teasing from all the other performers and co-workers. He had bitterly regretted saying anything in the first place, and cursed himself for being a loudmouth at least thrice a day.
Of course, that incident was mostly forgotten when one enterprising fan managed to run on stage during a performance and ardently groped a stunned Jin for a full minute before security had hurriedly removed her. The crowd had screamed its approval the whole way through.
Jin had been too busy feeling sorry for himself and complaining to see how Kame’s face changed every time he heard about yet another incident.
“Ne, did you hear?”
Jin looked up from where he had been frowning at his music notes. “What?”
Yamashita Tomohisa, the only other performer in Johnny’s that Jin actually liked, leaned closer with an air of deep mystery. “You know that one guy who molested you backstage?”
The corner of Jin’s mouth turned down in displeasure. “As if I could forget,” he said tartly. “What about him?”
“He’s kind of infamous for that incident, you know. Not every day someone gets close enough to touch the great Akanishi Jin and all.” He grinned, accompanying his words with a poke to Jin’s nose.
“Doesn’t seem like it these days,” Jin replied glumly, propping his face on his palms. “Is there a point to this conversation?”
“Yes, yes, be patient,” Yamapi huffed. “I’m taking precious time away from practicing with Takki and Tsubasa to tell you this juicy gossip so let me enjoy my moment, okay?” Yamapi glared fiercely at Jin, who just rolled his eyes. “So that guy? The word is, he got mugged and killed a couple of days ago,” he said, voice hushed.
Jin’s eyes widened. “No way. Seriously?”
Yamapi nodded. “And the thing is, he was shot.” Yamapi hugged himself, giving an exaggerated shudder. “But in both his hands and his feet, not in his head or heart at all.”
“So what does that mean, exactly?” Jin whispered back.
“That, Bakanishi, means that he got like, the worst mugging luck; he must’ve taken forever to, you know,” Yamapi waggled his eyebrows meaningfully.
Jin’s face paled in horror. “That means…”
“Must have taken him hours, the poor bastard,” Yamapi nodded. “Hours.”
“Don’t call the dead names like that, Yamapi!” Jin whispered fiercely, feeling the strangest sense of déjà-vu.
“Jin-chaaan, is that okay?”
Jin squinted up at the technician, who was currently perched precariously on top of the stage lights.
“A little more to the left,” he shouted upwards, and nodded in satisfaction when the lights were obediently moved in that direction. “Perfect, Taguchi, thanks!”
“No problem!” came the cheerful reply. Jin looked on with great interest as Taguchi climbed down the set like a monkey, finally jumping the last fifteen feet with a showy back flip.
“I never get tired of watching you do that,” he said in grudging admiration,, pouting enviously at Taguchi, who just smiled back.
“I wanted to join the circus when I was younger, you know.” Taguchi chuckled. “I figure sometimes working here is almost the same as that, ne?”
“True.” Jin grinned. “Thanks for fixing that.”
“No problem, it’s my job, right?” he smiled cheerfully at Jin and waved, walking off, but suddenly stopped. “Oi, Jin-chan?”
“Yes?”
Jin blinked when Taguchi turned back and walked right up to him. “Did you hear about that girl who tried to, um,” Taguchi trailed off uncomfortably and gestured backstage. “You know, that time with the, um, I mean, when you were singing and she, er-”
“Yes, I remember,” Jin said hastily, cutting off the explanation mid-way. “What about her? Wasn’t she carted off by the cops?”
Taguchi nodded in agreement. “But today, this cop came to see the manager, and apparently, in prison, that girl, she’s been-”
“Killed?” Jin asked on a whim, a growing dread filling him.
Taguchi looked relieved. “Oh, you’ve heard then.” Jin abruptly felt like running to his room and hiding under the covers.
“How did she die?” he asked reluctantly, not sure if he really wanted to know.
“What?” Taguchi was frowning in confusion.
“I mean, wasn’t she in prison?” Jin clarified, biting his lip uncertainly.
“No, she was out on bail,” Taguchi explained. “They found her near the docks yesterday evening. I heard she had been stabbed or something.”
“Heard she had been…” Jin repeated blankly.
“STABBED, KOKI, STABBED.”
Koki raised his eyebrows at the ear-splitting shriek that came from one Akanishi Jin as he paced around his living room.
“I still don’t see where you’re going with this,” he declared at last. “I mean, sure, they’re weird coincidences, but-”
“No, Koki! These can’t be coincidences!” Jin declared, rubbing his sweaty palms together. “The old man who wanted me to sing on his birthday died, the girl who groped me on stage died, the guy who tried to knife me died-"
“In case you haven’t noticed, Jin,” Koki started, trying to placate the singer. “This isn’t the safest area in town. Things like this happen, and they’re unfortunately too common.” He shrugged with a ‘what can you do’ expression, and flipped a page of his magazine.
“But-"
“Jin, you’re making this into too big a deal.” Koki rolled his eyes.
“No,” Jin refuted. “There is no other explanation.” He whirled around and put both his hands on Koki’s shoulders, his eyes manic. “Koki.”
“Yes?” the bodyguard replied warily, raising his eyebrows at the panic in Jin’s face.
“Koki, I am. A… a.”
“A what?” Koki asked, clearly bored, when Jin seemed to have trouble getting the words out.
“KOKI, I AM A JINX.”
Koki stared at Jin with the utmost bewilderment. “A what? You’re a what?”
“A jinx, Koki, it all makes sense, see, anyone who came close to me, they all like, die and oh god this is so terrible Koki, what do I dooooo?” he wailed, pulling at his hair.
“Koki, you have to help m- why are you laughing?” Jin demanded shrilly, kicking at him as Koki rolled around on the ground, banging at the floor with his fists, laughing too hard to speak.
“Oh God I can’t believe this,” Koki wheezed; “do you seriously think you’re a… a…”
“A JINX,” Jin repeated in frustration, which started Koki off on another round of deep-belly laughs.
“Dammit, Koki, I’m serious, and you should be careful, I don’t want you to die!” Jin nearly stomped his foot. Why was he never taken seriously? He was talking about life and death here! Life! And Death!
Koki gasped, his face turning red. “Jin, stop, please, no more. You’re killing me.”
Of course, this statement started Koki on another wild round of laughter which continued for a while before Koki managed to stop.
“Ko-kiiiii,” Jin whined. “Pay attention to me! They’re all dying, okay, this is serious!” Koki, at this point, had pushed his fingers in his ears and was humming very loudly to avoid hearing what Jin had to say.
“Like, all the guys who got close to me or, you know, tried to hurt me or like, kill me, they keep ending up dead in and…” Jin trailed off, and then was struck by a sudden thought, paying no attention to Koki, who was now whimpering, his arms around his stomach.
“The people who tried… to kill… me…” Jin froze. Kame had tried to kill him once. He was horrified at the thought of Kame dying and started to freak out even more.
“My stomach hurts,” Koki gasped, and curled into a fetal position, still laughing feebly. “This is all your fault,” he gasped out, addressing Jin. Jin kicked him once more just for spite and walked off in disgust.
As he walked off, he decided that maybe Koki dying wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
When Jin revealed his theory to Kame, and his subsequent fears of Kame possibly being the next one to get hurt, all he got was a long, blank stare. And then, Kame had proceeded to laugh himself sick, exactly like Koki. Jin didn’t kick him, though.
Jin privately mourned the fact that clearly, he was the only sane one left.
---