Pikame fic: Part One. Sort of.
Title: Gravity Is Not The Only Thing Holding Me Back.
Fandom: JE
Pairing: Pikame
Rating: PG15
Warning: Unbeta'd. Tenses change like WHOA.
Disclaimer: Not mine, and no profit is made.
Summary: AU. Spy verse. “Because even if I could turn back time, I would totally make the same choices all over again - if only so that I would still be here, at this moment in time, standing in front of you and speaking to you.”
Part One: Yamapi | Part Two: Jin | Part Three: Kame
We can never go home
We no longer have one
(No sound but the wind - The Editors)
.
.
Fuck.
Looking back, he should’ve known it was a trap.
Nothing-nothing-has ever been easy, not ever since he set his mind to do this. So why would he think otherwise, now of all times, he very much wants to know too.
The .47 he’s holding feels heavy, and his shivering certainly doesn’t help. Two bullets left. Too bad he never believes in miracles, because he certainly could use one right now.
“Yamashita Tomohisa, the building you’re in has been surrounded. I repeat, the building you’re in has been completely surrounded. Please surrender, and we might be able to spare you the-“ Jin’s voice, sounding stern and steady even through a rusty megaphone, even from a good distance away. He wonders if he’s the only one who could hear the note of desperation in Jin’s voice.
He lets out a wry smile. Some things really never change, do they?
Barely heard noises, coming from the door - or is it exactly in the door? Someone has tripped the motion sensor in the corridor. For a unit that’s supposed to be all stealthy and smooth, they sure do not bother to keep to their image. Or maybe they just don’t bother with him.
What a way to make a target feel special.
Any moment now.
He closes his eyes for a second, takes a deep breath, and leaps.
-
Before that though, before the gun and the anti-terrorists unit and Jin’s desperate voice in a megaphone, there was Yamashita Tomohisa and Ikuta Toma, bestfriends for life and partners in crime.
“I wish you never followed me here.” Toma’s voice sounded down, sad, guilty.
Yamapi frowns. “What are you talking about?”
“This,” Toma gestured to the space around them, “Is not right. You’re a doctor, a medical expert, not some-“ he made an indiscernible noise, presumably indicating their current occupation and workplace.
“It’s not that bad, though.” He shrugged. Because of course, no matter how many times they discussed this, and despite the same results every time, Toma still felt the need to bring it up every now and again. Like he thought the more they talked about it, the higher chance Yamapi would reconsider it. Which is - delusional, really. He would never leave Toma alone-ever. “We got a lab full of equipments a public hospital could only dream about. Not to mention we also could experiment as we wish, with no restriction - at all. I mean, that’s super, right?”
Toma gave him a look. “You’re totally missing the point, here. Or are you forgetting about the ‘breaking numerous law’ and ‘illegal activities’ part of our job?”
Tilting his head slightly, he regarded the lab they were in carefully. “Well… technically, we’re only following orders, you know? If anyone’s supposed to get blamed, then it should be the mastermind, right? The boss. Our handlers. The people in charge. Or whatever they’re called these days.”
Toma snorted. “Sure. Let’s hope that the police would also get technical when they finally catch us.”
“Try not to get caught then. You’re the one constantly in the spotlight, out doing dangerous action-y things while all I’m doing is harmless baby-sitting and lab-sitting.”
“Right.” Toma snorted again. “As if serial killers and insane homicidal scientists could ever be harmless.”
“It’s all in your head, really.” Yamapi tapped his fingers disapprovingly. “Positive thinking, that’s the key.”
Toma rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure. Just don’t come crying to me when you finally got killed by those harmless patients you’ve got in your labs.”
“Ha ha. Very funny.” Yamapi deadpanned. Toma only smiled innocently. Sighing, he looked down at his worn sneakers, noting that they really needed washing. “Just… be careful, ‘kay? And come back fast.”
“I always am.” His smile widened. “And I’ll be back before you even realize I’m gone.”
Famous last words.
-
But even before that, there was Pi-chan and Bakanishi and Toma-kun, childhood friends.
“Pinky swear?” Jin said, smiling, raising his left pinky.
“Pinky swear.” Toma replied solemnly, and linked Jin’s outstretched pinky with his own. Then simultaneously, they looked expectantly at Pi.
Reluctantly, he carefully linked his pinky together with Jin and Toma’s.
“Bros before hos.” Toma began.
“All for one.” Jin said.
“One for all.” Yamapi continues on.
“Best friends forever.” They chanted together like a mantra, like an oath they wouldn’t break. Then they kept looking serious for about three seconds before bursting into laughter like stupid little kids they still were.
Then they grew up, and nothing was the same.
-
The thing is, he has always been more of a medical officer than he would ever a fighter, and a scientist before he’s a medical officer. Considering his field of expertise, this is not much of a surprise. But none has ever counted the fact that along with treating new wounds, he learns about what causing them, and - more importantly - how to cause them.
He’s a physicist, for God’s sake. He’s got a degree for calculating the most efficient way to knock something out in the most imaginary ways. Coupled with his knowledge regarding medicine and human anatomy, it’s not so much a question of if than when.
It would be foolish of them to underestimate him.
He could disassemble a C4 and reconstruct it in under two minutes. Forty seconds for magnum .44, and sixty for a Winchester rifle. Untrained he might be, but inexperienced he’s not.
He still sucks major ass at hand-in-hand combat, though. Which is why he always does everything from afar, relying on wireless technology and radio signals to do most of his jobs for him.
It can’t last. But he’s sure to enjoy it while it still does.
-
Uchi raises an eyebrow. “You certainly got a lot of nerve, coming to me-of all information brokers in town--at a time like this.”
Yamapi ignores him. “What can you tell me about Kame?”
The smile Uchi gives him is slow and deliberate and downright indecent. “Afraid you’ve got to be more specific than that, love.”
“Kamenashi Kazuya.” He spells the name out in a rush, throwing a wad of cash in Uchi’s direction-which he catches easily. “Appears to be about in his early or middle twenties.”
The informant barely spares him a curious glance as he’s counting his cash. “Twenty-four years old, lanky looking guy with sharp eyes. That your guy?” at Yamapi’s nod, Uchi continues, “The third of four brothers, although now all of his family has left Tokyo for indeterminable time. A good ol’ citizen, decent school record - basically, all those boring shit with a disappointing lack of illicit affairs on the side.” He tucks his newly acquired cash in his jeans’ back pocket, before leaning back on the alley wall. “Last known activities: working for the law force with a partner named Jin…something.”
It’s just me and my roommate, Jin, now. No family. They’re all gone.
Kame looked rather down after that that Yamapi couldn’t help changing the subject. Now he feels like an idiot. Working for the law force? And yet Kame didn’t seem to recognize his face.
Yamapi furrows his brows. Something doesn’t add up. “That’s all?”
“Unfortunately.” Hands folded over his chest, Uchi regards him with open curiosity. Then he asks casually, “Why are you using present tense?”
“What?”
“Kamenashi Kazuya’s been dead for the last two years, man.” Uchi shrugs. “One straight bullet to the head.”
“What?”
The informant looks at him oddly. “After all, that was why the whole Kamenashi family moved out.” He pauses. “You look surprise. Why’s that?” the look he gives Yamapi is measuring, assessing, a predator that has just scented a possible prey. “Or… could it be he’s still alive?”
“They ever caught the killer?” his head is spinning. Kame is--how could it even be?
“Nah. One of your Eraser did it.” Again, Yamapi’s head snaps to attention. “Supposed to look like suicide, except his partner-this Jin-person-showed up and blew the whole thing.” Another shrug. “A damn shame, if you asked me.”
Again with this Jin-named-person who works for the law force. Yamapi really, really hopes it isn’t Akanishi Jin.
“If he was as vanilla as you described him to be, then why did they even bother killing him?”
“Remember that gig in Osaka two and a half year ago?”
Yamapi nods. And what a mess it was, lots of blood and drugs with way too much evidence trails. They had to close up two main factories because of it.
“He was a loose end.” Uchi shrugs uncaringly. “Wrong place, wrong time - you know how it is.”
So what, there had been a real person named Kamenashi Kazuya before that thing assumed the name for himself? And yet Uchi doesn’t seem to know anything about it. He glances at Uchi again. The guy stays at the same position, with his back against the dirty alley wall, hands crossed over his chest, a lazy smile still playing about in his lips.
“You know, this is funny.” Uchi suddenly says. “You’re, like, the second person this week to ask about this Kamenashi Kazuya. The only difference? The other person was looking for an ex-Eraser.”
Yamapi’s blood instantly runs cold. He turns around, away from Uchi, but he knows it’s too late as he hears the informant’s gleeful cackle.
“Oh dear… I see how it is now.” He still sounds so amused, although Yamapi notes the calculating edge in his tone. He’s itching to just turn back to Uchi and tell him where he can shove his mole business, but he feels as if he’s been giving away more than he realizes and he just--
He’s really crap at this sort of thing.
So he walks away, feeling strangely like he has betrayed someone all over again.
-
The kiss, when it finally happens, is not at all what he expects.
It’s messy, for one. And awkward. And just plain embarrassing - in that it makes him feel like an inexperienced teenager all over again, all fumbling eagerness and desire without even knowing what he’s doing at all.
He thinks he likes it.
In the first attempt, Kame’s lips miss Yamapi’s and only manage to graze the corner of his mouth instead. The second time, their noses accidentally bump each other’s, and they’re forced to retreat because, ow. The third time, they spend a few seconds silently strategizing the best way to avoid any other mishap, before slowly (and carefully) leaning forward, angling their heads slightly to avoid a repeat of nose-bumping incident, and cautiously letting their lips touch - a second, two seconds - before they had to break away again, giggling helplessly, because their breaths on each other’s noses tickle.
“Oh my God this is so not working.” Kame complains, his forehead a second away from frowning.
“Well, they do say ‘practice makes perfect.’” Yamapi says mildly.
“Maybe we should, you know, wait. For another time. Or something.”
“Maybe we should.” Yamapi agrees.
Then they go back to their respective notes and textbooks, and pretend to be absorbed in their own tasks.
They last for about, oh, thirty seconds, before Kame exclaims, “oh screw this,” and comes at Yamapi. Yamapi only has time to say, “good thinking,” before he finds Kame’s callused fingers cupping his face, thumbs over his cheekbones, hands giving pressure just enough to tilt his head to side slightly and press their lips together - close-mouthed, just dry lips over dry lips, and lasts only over a second, with a slight tremble that he could feel when Kame pulls away this time. But it’s enough - more than enough to convince him that Kame means business this time, that this no attempt at a joke.
So he puts a hand over Kame’s nape and pulls him down, returning the kiss, before he could retreat completely. He takes his time feeling out Kame’s lips with his own, still close-mouthed, before slowly letting his lips part and tasting the contour of Kame’s lips with his tongue - slow, hesitant, but insistent enough for Kame to allow him entry to his mouth and let him roam inside.
The kiss is nothing spectacular; they use too much spit, for instance. They also still couldn’t manage to regulate their breathing enough for it to be truly enjoyable. And despite all that, they also still manage to bump their noses. Again.
“Well, practice does make perfect.” Kame offers afterwards, face flushed an interesting shade of red.
“Among other things.” Yamapi agrees.
Then their eyes caught, and they instantly burst out laughing - from the absurdity of it all.
And for a moment - for a moment, Yamapi could even believe that everything’s alright with the world.
-
“Don’t move.” Yamapi aims his Glock at the person before him.
“Oh my God. Why is it you people always appear when I’m off duty? Talk about wasted opportunities.” Ryo complains, dusting his yukata off rather gracelessly.
“I said don’t-“
Ryo waves a hand dismissively, not even bothering to glance his way. “I’m on vacation right now, and I refuse to work overtime. So shoo!”
Yamapi only looks at him incredulously, his gun still pointing in Ryo’s direction. “You’re letting me go?! Just like that -- no threat, no nothing?!”
Because, really, who’s he kidding? He may have the gun right now, but they both know it won’t last should Ryo feel the need to defend himself. Yamapi’s many things, but delusional is not one of them.
Rolling his eyes, Ryo continues to ignore him. Instead, he bends down and picks up the things he dropped when he literally runs into Yamapi earlier. Yamapi notices they are mostly toiletries, towels, and a spare hotel-issued yukata. “Yes, just like that. So go away, if you know what’s best for you.”
“How can I be sure that you won’t try to disable me the moment I turn my back on you?” eyeing the trained killer in front of him, he sets the safety of his Glock off. He internally winces. It sounds loud and rather pronounced in otherwise deserted hallway.
“Don’t even try it. I won’t disable you because it would be a waste of my precious vacation time, but that doesn’t mean I can’t.” There’s an edge in his voice - a warning. “And you know I never miss.”
Yes, if only too well.
Best to back off then.
Still eyeing Ryo cautiously, he puts the safety back on and steps backward, one careful step at a time. All the while, Ryo’s busy checking out his things, not even pretending to watch Yamapi. Then when it seems he got what he’s looking for, he yawns and turns his back on Yamapi, clearly dismissing him.
Yamapi’s really torn between feeling insulted or relieved.
“My vacation ends in five days.” Ryo suddenly announces, his voice cheerfully resentful. “Do yourself a favor and disappear before then. ‘Cause when it comes down to it? My success rate is still a hundred percent.” Then he continues on his path, swaggering exaggeratedly as he goes. When he reaches the sliding door, he pauses briefly and glances slightly at Yamapi’s direction. “And try to stay away from this place.” He adds, his tone mildly annoyed.
“Why?” Yamapi’s brows crease in worry. “This place is theirs, now?” because he’s sure last time he checked, they never bother to get invested in a remote area places like this.
“No.” There’s no mistaking the irritation in Ryo’s voice, “But I’d much prefer it if my favorite holiday spot isn’t sullied by your traitorous presence. Wouldn’t want to get infected, mind you.”
Yamapi only stares at him in disbelief, barely restraining himself from stomping his foot.
He has always wondered why he and Ryo are not friends, despite the few similarity traits they have. Turns out it’s because Ryo’s a bigger asshole than Yamapi could ever hope to be.
Ryo only smirks and makes for the door.
For a few malicious seconds, Yamapi contemplates telling Ryo that his dead ex-partner, the only person Yamapi knows Ryo ever gives a damn for, is alive; that he’s living somewhere safe and happy out of Ryo’s reach. That the kid doesn’t even remember Ryo.
He imagines the surprise and the hurt and the crushed look Ryo would be sporting, and the devastation and sure destruction that would follow him in his search for the supposedly-dead kid.
It would be such an attractive sight to behold. And nothing-nothing-would ever taste sweeter.
But then he remembers Jin’s face, and the kid’s (Kame, his name is Kame now), and how content they seem to be in their current life arrangement, and he just. He just -
There’s no guarantee that Ryo wouldn’t just kill the kid himself. And should he even decide to (finally) defy orders and keep the kid, it’s almost a certainty that he would erase anybody who ever has a contact with the kid - most especially Jin.
And Yamapi’s not down with that - not at all.
So he just watches as Ryo disappears from his sight, some misplaced guilt and residual malice dancing tauntingly in his wake.
-
Of all the odd-thousands people named Jin in Japan, Kame’s so called roommate just happens to be Jin frigging Akanishi.
It’s hard to miss the irony when said irony almost kills him. Like, literally.
Because as soon as Kame’s out of the room and out of earshot, they instantly stand on the ready: Yamapi pulls out his knife lightning quick, just as Jin brandishes his gun out in a flash-with the safety off.
What the hell.
“What are you doing here?!” Jin shout-whispers, clearly not wanting Kame to hear.
“What are you doing here?!” Yamapi shout-whispers back, waving his knife threateningly. “And put that thing away, for God’s sake! We wouldn’t want anybody to turn up dead here!”
“Oh, I don’t know. Considering your status, it would save me a hell lot of trouble if it was your body which turned up dead!”
Yamapi snorts. “And what are you going to tell Kame?”
Jin’s eyes narrow as his finger pulls on the trigger a few millimeters. Whoops. Sensitive subject. Yamapi tightens his hold on his knife. “Do you even have any idea who Kame is?” Jin hisses through seemingly gritted teeth.
“Do you?” Yamapi hisses back.
They glare at each other, each willing the other to back down.
“What do you want me to say? I’m a cop; of course I know who Kame is!” Jin’s eyes widen slightly as he realizes what he’s saying. Because really, relating him to the law force is a shitty way of introducing your friend, especially if he’s your own roommate.
Might as well come out and say this is my friend. Oh btw, he used to be a criminal.
“I didn’t mean… I mean-“ Jin stammers, eyes still wide, even as his finger on the trigger doesn’t loosen even a millimeter.
There’s a loud clanking sound from the direction of the kitchen, and they both glance at it, making sure Kame’s nowhere within vicinity of the room, before going back to each other.
“If you actually know who he is, then what the hell is he doing here, in your apartment?” Yamapi says, voice nearly a whisper. While the neatness is not Jin’s style, the keepsake around the house screams Jin’s name; starting from the brightly colored wall, the oddly mismatched yet cheerful furniture, through the strange arrangement of the lamp décor in the ceiling. “What are you, an adrenaline junkie? A masochist? Or just plain stupid?” Because this is too much, even for Jin’s standard.
His eyes widen as a realization hits him. “You’re sleeping with him!”
“What?! No!!”
At his near-shout, they both turn as one to the direction of the kitchen again, waiting for a second or two, but there’s no sign of Kame approaching.
“I do not-“ Jin stops himself, and in a much lower voice says, “I’m not sleeping with him!”
When Yamapi keeps looking at him in disbelief, Jin adds, “I’m not! He’s here because it’s not like he has anywhere to go. They didn’t know what to do with him now that he lost his memories, considering there’s not enough hard evidence to send him to jail and all the witnesses are dead and why the hell am I telling you this anyway?!” Jin glares harder at him, probably just realizes that he’s been had.
They’re both breathing hard, each trying to find an opening - something.
And of course Uchi Hiroki wouldn’t know anything about it, since Witness Protection Program is not exactly his forte. At least this confirms his suspicion on why such a high-profile criminal is being let free roaming the street without supervision. The police themselves seem deluded enough to think of the kid as harmless, when he’s anything but. Which is-beyond stupid, really.
Then in a careful, calm, and even voice, Yamapi asks, “You can’t trust him, you fool. They’re trained to lie their way through the worst, and you can’t trust any of them even for a second! They will kill you the moment you turn your back on them! How could you even--”
“Because it’s been a whole year and I’m still breathing!” Jin whisper-yells. “A whole year, and he never leaves Tokyo. For the first three months, he didn’t even leave the house without me shadowing his every move!”
Yamapi grits his teeth. “You don’t know what they’re-he’s-capable of!”
“And you do?” Jin sneers. He fucking sneers. “If they’re as dangerous and untrustworthy as you say they are, then what the hell are you doing, hanging out around Kame for the last two weeks?”
That shuts Yamapi up real fast.
Honestly? I’ve been asking myself the exact same question over and over.
“Yeah, I thought so.” Jin says, finally lowering his gun. Then he proceeds to take off his coat and drapes it over the back of the couch, movement so slow and deliberate Yamapi knows Jin’s whole attention is still on him.
“You believe a complete stranger over your childhood friend?” his voice is quiet, not like he means it to, but more like he can’t find the energy necessary to talk louder.
From the way Jin said it, Kame was the one who told him about those three weeks worth of not-quite-meeting. Besides, if it was one of Jin’s coworkers, then Yamapi would’ve been zapped on the second day. Which means, Kame always shares everything with Jin. His eyes flicker for a second to Jin’s right hand, where a small, simple, nondescript ring snuggles comfortably on his pinky.
The same one he always sees on Kame’s left pinky.
He counts himself lucky he never tells Kame his full name.
Jin pauses, his body halfway turned toward him. “Yes,” Jin says, “Yes. Especially when the childhood friend has become more of a stranger than the stranger himself.”
That hurts.
“You didn’t even give me a chance.” He sounds angry; why does he sound angry?
Jin eyes him then, a hard look in his gaze. “No, you didn’t give me a chance. I guess I’m tired of chasing after you two. Why don’t you go back to Toma and get the fuck off some place-where you two couldn’t hurt anyone?”
But Toma’s dead! Yamapi wants to tell him. Toma’s dead, and you’re the only one left from my past life.
Yamapi keeps his mouth shut. Willing Jin to understand, to read what’s left unsaid in his eyes, because Yamapi knows Jin’s still fluent in Yamapi’s body language. But Jin doesn’t even look at him; his body might be angling toward him, yes, but his eyes are looking anywhere but him.
“Just… stay away from him. From Kame.” Jin adds the name almost like an afterthought. As if Yamapi would actually mistake whom he refers to. “Because right now? I don’t want him to remember anything. And being with you might just trigger his memory.”
He tastes bile on the back of his mouth, threatening to choke him. Fuck if he doesn’t recognize the look on Jin’s face as he says it. And even if he doesn’t, the matching ring on Jin’s right pinky kinda explains everything.
Biting back an automatic response Jealous much? he keeps his voice even as he says, “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”
Jin’s eyes flicker. “And you do?”
At that second, Jin’s tone reminds him much of the fleeting emotion behind Kame’s response after Yamapi’s little comment regarding his name: mildly curious, bordering on casual, with that undercurrent…something that tastes almost like wonder and a certain amount of detachment. Like, like he’s-not lying, not exactly, but more like he’s holding something back. Like opening a door only to find another hundred of closed doors waiting just behind it.
It’s…oddly appropriate.
It is, isn’t it?
He wonders whether it’s only a coincidence, or whether it’s yet another thing one of them pick up from the other after living together for so long.
He blinks.
For the first time, it finally hits him: he’s really, really alone.
There’s a reason why he never tries to find Jin before-despite knowing where he works and how to find him. There’s a reason, and for a long time he convinces himself it’s because it would be inappropriate for a convicted criminal and suspected terrorist to visit a friend who works for law force. That it would cause suspicion and all other complicated stuff.
But the truth is-but the truth is. He’s-
Afraid of being rejected.
Hearing excited footsteps coming down toward them, he instantly straightens up. He lifts his head just in time to see Kame appear on the door, grinning widely and waving a spatula about.
“Dinner’s almost ready. Why don’t you help me set the plate?” then he shifts his attention to Yamapi and adds, “You’re, like, totally staying. Right?”
“Sure-“ Yamapi replies, just as Jin says, “No he’s not.”
Yamapi looks at Jin amusedly, an eyebrow raised.
Kame blinks.
“He’s not.” Jin repeats, looking Yamapi right in the eye. Don’t you dare, his eyes say. “He’s got…things to take care of.”
“Really?” Kame says, not bothering to hide his disappointment. Considering how he’s always been extra careful to layer any negative feelings he may have around Yamapi before, this is a huge improvement, and he thinks to contradict Jin just for that alone.
Only, you know, taking into account the mighty scowl Jin directs at him just out of Kame’s line of sight, the plan is a big no no.
“Yeah, unfortunately. Sorry.” He smiles up at Kame winningly. Just because he can. And because he knows it pisses Jin off. “Maybe another time?”
“Sure.” Kame shrugs, forcing up an answering smile.
That almost makes him run up to Kame and try to make it all better, except. Well. A mighty scowl is mighty, and he knows he’s being let off easy, considering he’s a wanted man and Jin’s a police detective and all. So flee it is.
He retreats without another word.
-
Screw Jin.
For that little act alone, Yamapi vows to never stay away from Kame.
-
When he gets back from the bathroom, he’s too busy drying his wet hair with his towel to realize something’s off. It takes his brain a few precious seconds to recognize the tell-tale sound of the safety of a gun being clicked off. It takes him another second to slowly lift his head and finding the source of the sound. Another few seconds still to process the sight in front of him.
Standing in the middle of the room, fingering the trigger and pointing the business end of a gun at Yamapi’s forehead, is none other than Kame.
Tick tock.
Far in the living room, Jin’s annoying clock is ticking tick tock, tick tock, the faint sound suddenly so pronounced in this stillness.
Frozen still in his state, he keeps dripping drip drip water all over the floor, his towels a half-wet mass that offers nothing in the way of comfort or heat. He’s naked and vulnerable and what the hell he’s been thinking for letting his guard down at all?!
Once a sociopath, always a sociopath.
The bed behind Kame is unmade, covers turned, rumpled and disheveled. A stark contrast to Kame’s attire: a soft looking black turtleneck, a sharp creamy overcoat that hang over his thighs, and a pair of dark-colored jeans that compliments his slender legs well.
He looks sharp and professional and every bit the crazy sociopath killer Yamapi used to know him as except for the fact that he’s barefoot.
“Kame…?” cautious, because he doesn’t know what he’s playing at.
The cold look holds for a second, before Kame tilts his head and stretches his lips in a curve - effectively shattering the illusion. Now he’s only Kamenashi Kazuya, the nerdy kid who likes to ramble on and on and lives off sugar and caffeine.
“Hey.” Kame’s still smiling, his hand waving the gun up and about.
Yamapi tries his hardest to look at Kame’s face instead of at the gun. “Where did you get that?” his voice shook, despite his best efforts to control himself.
The other boy looks at him curiously. “Under your pillow. I didn’t know you like playing police.” The grin he flashes is light, teasing. There’s no mistaking that he thinks the gun is a toy.
“Yeah, well.” Forcing a laugh, Yamapi walks to the bed, a careful step by a careful step. “There’re so many things you don’t know about me.”
But Kame only tilts his head further, a strange look settles in on his face. “You’re afraid of me.”
It’s not a question.
Yamapi is a ball of misconnected nerves, all about appearances and wrong assumptions and nothing really matters but something obviously does. He shouldn’t have, but he did notice that when Kame said that, he meant himself, and not the gun he’s waving around carelessly. “I was surprised, is all.”
The sociopathic kid he used to know never tried that on him; never pointed a gun at his head. He liked his blade way better - all about precision and sharp edges and graceful arc. Nothing says intimacy like a blade’s eye on your skin.
He grits his teeth.
That’s neither here nor now, and he better gets to the present soon.
“Would you mind?” he addresses Kame, who only raises an eyebrow at him. “I need to get dressed.” He drops his towels pointedly.
In a heartbeat, Kame’s facing the door, away from him, but not before he notices the faint blush spreading across Kame’s cheeks. “Um. Right. Sorry. You were taking so long, so I just. Um. Wanted to make sure everything’s alright. I’ll just wait in the living room, then.” Dropping the gun hastily on the bed, he goes to do just that. The door closes behind him with a soft thud.
Yamapi stares at the abandoned gun. His heartbeats sound so loud in the silence behind Kame’s departure. Without wasting another second, he checks the gun’s compartment. But it’s still as he left it: full round, with only a bullet missing. He disassembles the gun, checking every nook with careful precision. But nothing seems out of place. The only change that he could spot is Kame’s fingerprints on the gun’s shell, and nothing else.
He releases the breaths he doesn’t realize he’s been holding.
Never has he felt more unbalanced, like -- like something’s trying to crawl out of his skin. He wipes a hand over his face, but his hand comes away cold, nearly sweaty, and he knows it’s not from the cold air. As he pulls on his jeans and shirt, he can’t help but wonder: all this time, who is he trying to fool, really?
It doesn’t matter-not anymore-whether Kame’s amnesia is genuine or not. Or-or whether he’s still working for The Syndicate, or whether he’s a double agent, or - or. It doesn’t. Because Yamapi’s-Yamapi is.
He puts his Glock on the back of his jeans, relieving in the comfort its weight gives him. His heart is thundering still under his ribcage, even as he couldn’t say it’s a surprise anymore. He’s just donning his jacket as his feet him bring him to the living room, where Kame sitting straight-backed on the couch, head tilted down, Ran held loosely on his lap.
At the sound of his approach, Kame turns and beams at him. Yamapi finds himself smile back.
It’s too late, really.
When the only thing that crosses his mind as Kame’s gun aimed at him was: at least it’s Kame.
Falling has never felt so right.
-
They had loved different things, as kids. While Toma poured his whole attention to what was hidden beneath the earth, Jin had always been interested in the freedom the sky offered, and, by extension, the outer space, while Yamapi contended himself with what he could find on Earth - above the ground, under the sky: a world in between, something to bridge Toma’s need for limits and Jin’s call for freedom.
Hence the globe pendant.
It’s a small little thing, the pendant. No longer than an inch in diameter, with the Earth’s continents carved onto its surface, and added the Neptune’s ring surrounding it twice, the otherwise an ordinary blue ball pendant is truly a beautiful piece of art.
Not to mention also the added bonus of a small, hidden compartment on the inside. Not big enough to fit a hard candy, but certainly enough to fit in a microchip - containing enough information to bring down the syndicate’s most prominent public figures - and more.
A perfect farewell gift to Jin, if he could say so himself.
-
When he planned out everything, he hadn’t actually counted Kame’s reaction into equation.
He couldn’t decide whether that had been a mistake, or not.
Indecisiveness seems to be his permanent set of mind wheneverr he’s around Kame.
Kame doesn’t say anything when he comes by Jin’s apartment that morning. Kame doesn’t say anything when he explains how he’s got to go to settle some unfinished business. Kame doesn’t say anything when he shows him the globe pendant, and puts it around his neck. Kame doesn’t say anything when his fingers linger around his neck as he finishes clasping the straps of the necklace. Kame doesn’t say anything when he tells him to give Jin his regards.
All the time, Kame’s lips set in a thin line, shoulders tense, eyes hard with something that Yamapi doesn’t know how to describe. All in all, he looks taut as a string - one wrong move, and either he’s gonna snap, or he’s gonna break.
And Yamapi? Doesn’t know how to deal with it. So he chooses a coward’s way out: he pretends nothing is amiss, and walks out the door with a whispered good-bye on his lips. And he thinks, at least this way, he knows he has nothing to regret - should he not be back.
He couldn’t be more wrong.
He’s barely out the door when he feels something - or rather, someone - slam into him from behind, snaking their arms around his middle, and making him stumble slightly in his step.
“…Kame?”
Distinctly, he could feel the sharp outline of the globe pendant’s twin rings digging into his back, between his shoulder blades; feel Kame’s face, as the slightly shorter boy rests his forehead on Yamapi’s neck; feel the slight tremble on the tight grip Kame’s arms have around his middle.
Kame certainly feels anything but okay.
“Kame?” he tries again.
“Come by for dinner this evening.” Kame’s voice, when it finally comes, is unsteady and raspy - much like his unusually harsh breathing. “I’ll cook for you. All your favorite foods. So make sure you fit it into your busy schedule, okay?’
Yamapi hesitates. “Kame-“
“You promised, dammit!” the shout surprised Yamapi, since Kame so rarely raises his voice. Then Kame seems to get himself under control again, since his voice lowers considerably when he says, “You promised that you’d taste my cooking a long time ago, but you never did; one way or another, you got away every time I invited you. You told me you were not a liar; prove it.”
“I did promise,” Yamapi allows, “But Kame, this is hardly the time or place-“
“Have I ever asked you for something before?” Kame grounds out trough gritted teeth. “No, I haven’t; so please, just this once, choose me.”
It’s the unexpected note of desperation in those last two words that finally does him in; because, for some reason, it feels genuine and plain honest and so unlike Kame - to finally show some weakness.
Whatever he expected when he turns around, he certainly didn’t expect the naked fear in Kame’s eyes, nor did he expect the blood on Kame’s lips, as his teeth break skin.
“Don’t look at me!” At his abrupt movement, Kame immediately turns his head away and covers his face, not knowing such position makes him look even more vulnerable.
“What-what are you afraid of?”
His question is met with a harsh laugh. “Do you really want me to answer that?”
So many things left unsaid that he doesn’t even know where to begin. He’s not the only one with a secret.
He grabs either side of Kame’s face, forcing him to look at him. “Kame-Kame, look at me.” He orders, giving it everything he has. When Kame finally raises his eyes to meet Yamapi’s, he continues, still in the same hard tone, “Shh, listen, I’m not going anywhere, ok? I’ll just take care of some business, and then I’ll be back before you even realize I’m gone, you hear me? I. Will. Be. Back.”
Liar, liar, pants on fire.
Fleetingly, he wonders if this is how Toma felt when he told Yamapi the exact same words - only to have them as his last words.
“Promise me.” Kame grits out.
Softly, he presses his forehead against Kame’s, and whispers, “I promise.” And then he adds, “I do hope you’ll prepare a feast, though. Because when I’m back? I’ll be hungry as hell.”
That earns him a small laugh from Kame - even if the sound is slightly choked. “You got it.”
And then they’re looking at each other, and there’s *this* pause, and since it feels like the most logical thing to do, they kiss; dry, and only lasts for about one, two, three, four seconds, but it’s anything but chaste.
At least they get it right the first try, this time around.
-
“WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?! ARE YOU DEAF??! I TOLD YOU NOT TO SHOOT, DAMN YOU! I TOLD YOU!!!”
It’s sure loud here; the police’s siren; the general noise of people talking in the background; cars halting suddenly; harsh rain hitting grounds; somebody’s (familiar) voice angrily screaming and shouting over his head.
Too bad he couldn’t hear the words, though.
As he stares up at the far sky above him, he’s reminded of the first time he met Kame: to stare up into the sky at the face peering curiously into the traphole, to realize who that face used to belong to, and to find out the name attached to said face at the time.
He still thinks ‘turtle pear’ is a ridiculous name, but of course he would never tell Kame that. Not that he would ever get a chance to, anyway, with the way his blood keeps pouring out of his body through the impromptu bullet holes.
Jin, you fucker.
Loud footsteps approaching him in a hurry, closer and closer with no regards whatsoever to the harsh rain overhead. Then he hears the dull sound of knees hitting ground (asphalt?) beside him, as well as feels somebody lift his upper body off the ground, one hand around his shoulders.
“Oh God Pi, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry; please open your eyes, come on, open your eyes--” Jin’s voice is shaking slightly, just like the hand he uses to slap Yamapi’s cheeks shaking slightly. “Come on! Wake up, dammit, I know you can hear me!”
Not many people realize this, but the feeling of rain on your bare skin? It hurts. Seriously. Instead of water, it feels like a thousand needles raining down on you - the harsher the rain, the worse it gets. So really, it should only be expected that Yamapi would refuse to open his eyes - especially if the moment he opened his eyes, a thousand needles would rain on his unprotected eyeballs.
Then he coughs out blood from his mouth and nose, and Jin forces him into a half-sitting position, which is not as uncomfortable as his former horizontal position on the ground. This time, at least, he feels safe enough to open his eyes, so he does.
It’s rather disconcerting to see a blurry face right across your own.
“Please hang on, okay? The paramedics are on their way. Please, please, hang on for a second longer, okay?” his voice is still shaking.
He doesn’t have much time left, and they’re wasting it for trivialities; seriously, Jin should consider hiring Kame, if only so that the boy could show him how to manage his time better.
Really, Kame has always been good at it; even before he became Kamenashi Kazuya. Oh right, what was his real name, again? He frowns. He couldn’t seem to remember.
But first thing first.
Blindly gripping the back of Jin’s neck, he pulls him down until he could feel Jin’s harsh breathing across his cheek. “Lis…ten, Kame-you’ve got to…” a series of blood-coughing interrupts him. Oh, joy. Seems all the blood has finally flooded his lungs.
“What, what? What’s with Kame?”
Yamapi really, really hopes it’s only his imagination that Jin’s shaking has gotten worse at the mention of Kame’s name. He needs Jin focus, dammit.
“…for…you… i-inf-infor-at-at…” this time, as he coughs out a lungful of blood, all he could see is darkness - even as he knows he still gets his eyes wide open.
“Come on Pi! Please don’t give up on me! Dammit, Yamashita Tomohisa, you hear me?! I can’t lose you too!! You hear me?!!”
It sounds like Jin’s crying; oh God, is he crying? Over him? After all these years?
Jin, you fucker.
“…K-Kame…neck-necklace-you’ve g-got to…”
“Look, just hang on a sec, okay? The paramedics are here; just a sec, and you’ll be as good as new. You c-could even date Kame openly if you want; come on!”
Dammit Jin, still not the point! Find Kame! Find the globe necklace! Find the microchip! Don’t let my death be in vain, damn you!
“Ka-kame-“
“I’ll get him, okay? I’ll get Kame! So please, just hang on! Pi, you hear me? Pi? P-“
Please protect him. Uchi knows he’s alive, which means they know he’s alive, and they’re going to target him next - missing memories be damned.
It’s strangely quite around here. There’s no noise - only his own fading heartbeat.
He really shouldn’t have gotten close to Kame; after all, it’s his presence that alerted them that their thought-to-be-dead former Eraser is alive and well. He really, really should have stayed away.
Sorry wouldn’t be enough this time.
Because he knows, on the other side of town, away from all the excitement of police and media coverage, a boy named Kamenashi Kazuya is happily tending the kitchen, cutting veggies and roasting beef and boiling soup, with a smile on his face and humming a soft tune under his breath, imagining a family dinner later that night, not even knowing that now his imagination would always be just that-an imagination.
A corpse can’t attend a dinner, after all.
As his awareness finally leaves him completely, he could only think of one thing:
He really, really should have stayed away.
.
.
.
End.
A/N: This fic is supposed to be the first part of three-parter, with the second part and third part filling the holes in this one. Except, well, considering my history when it comes to multichapter fic, we'll see how that goes :p
Fandom: JE
Pairing: Pikame
Rating: PG15
Warning: Unbeta'd. Tenses change like WHOA.
Disclaimer: Not mine, and no profit is made.
Summary: AU. Spy verse. “Because even if I could turn back time, I would totally make the same choices all over again - if only so that I would still be here, at this moment in time, standing in front of you and speaking to you.”
Part One: Yamapi | Part Two: Jin | Part Three: Kame
We can never go home
We no longer have one
(No sound but the wind - The Editors)
.
.
Fuck.
Looking back, he should’ve known it was a trap.
Nothing-nothing-has ever been easy, not ever since he set his mind to do this. So why would he think otherwise, now of all times, he very much wants to know too.
The .47 he’s holding feels heavy, and his shivering certainly doesn’t help. Two bullets left. Too bad he never believes in miracles, because he certainly could use one right now.
“Yamashita Tomohisa, the building you’re in has been surrounded. I repeat, the building you’re in has been completely surrounded. Please surrender, and we might be able to spare you the-“ Jin’s voice, sounding stern and steady even through a rusty megaphone, even from a good distance away. He wonders if he’s the only one who could hear the note of desperation in Jin’s voice.
He lets out a wry smile. Some things really never change, do they?
Barely heard noises, coming from the door - or is it exactly in the door? Someone has tripped the motion sensor in the corridor. For a unit that’s supposed to be all stealthy and smooth, they sure do not bother to keep to their image. Or maybe they just don’t bother with him.
What a way to make a target feel special.
Any moment now.
He closes his eyes for a second, takes a deep breath, and leaps.
-
Before that though, before the gun and the anti-terrorists unit and Jin’s desperate voice in a megaphone, there was Yamashita Tomohisa and Ikuta Toma, bestfriends for life and partners in crime.
“I wish you never followed me here.” Toma’s voice sounded down, sad, guilty.
Yamapi frowns. “What are you talking about?”
“This,” Toma gestured to the space around them, “Is not right. You’re a doctor, a medical expert, not some-“ he made an indiscernible noise, presumably indicating their current occupation and workplace.
“It’s not that bad, though.” He shrugged. Because of course, no matter how many times they discussed this, and despite the same results every time, Toma still felt the need to bring it up every now and again. Like he thought the more they talked about it, the higher chance Yamapi would reconsider it. Which is - delusional, really. He would never leave Toma alone-ever. “We got a lab full of equipments a public hospital could only dream about. Not to mention we also could experiment as we wish, with no restriction - at all. I mean, that’s super, right?”
Toma gave him a look. “You’re totally missing the point, here. Or are you forgetting about the ‘breaking numerous law’ and ‘illegal activities’ part of our job?”
Tilting his head slightly, he regarded the lab they were in carefully. “Well… technically, we’re only following orders, you know? If anyone’s supposed to get blamed, then it should be the mastermind, right? The boss. Our handlers. The people in charge. Or whatever they’re called these days.”
Toma snorted. “Sure. Let’s hope that the police would also get technical when they finally catch us.”
“Try not to get caught then. You’re the one constantly in the spotlight, out doing dangerous action-y things while all I’m doing is harmless baby-sitting and lab-sitting.”
“Right.” Toma snorted again. “As if serial killers and insane homicidal scientists could ever be harmless.”
“It’s all in your head, really.” Yamapi tapped his fingers disapprovingly. “Positive thinking, that’s the key.”
Toma rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure. Just don’t come crying to me when you finally got killed by those harmless patients you’ve got in your labs.”
“Ha ha. Very funny.” Yamapi deadpanned. Toma only smiled innocently. Sighing, he looked down at his worn sneakers, noting that they really needed washing. “Just… be careful, ‘kay? And come back fast.”
“I always am.” His smile widened. “And I’ll be back before you even realize I’m gone.”
Famous last words.
-
But even before that, there was Pi-chan and Bakanishi and Toma-kun, childhood friends.
“Pinky swear?” Jin said, smiling, raising his left pinky.
“Pinky swear.” Toma replied solemnly, and linked Jin’s outstretched pinky with his own. Then simultaneously, they looked expectantly at Pi.
Reluctantly, he carefully linked his pinky together with Jin and Toma’s.
“Bros before hos.” Toma began.
“All for one.” Jin said.
“One for all.” Yamapi continues on.
“Best friends forever.” They chanted together like a mantra, like an oath they wouldn’t break. Then they kept looking serious for about three seconds before bursting into laughter like stupid little kids they still were.
Then they grew up, and nothing was the same.
-
The thing is, he has always been more of a medical officer than he would ever a fighter, and a scientist before he’s a medical officer. Considering his field of expertise, this is not much of a surprise. But none has ever counted the fact that along with treating new wounds, he learns about what causing them, and - more importantly - how to cause them.
He’s a physicist, for God’s sake. He’s got a degree for calculating the most efficient way to knock something out in the most imaginary ways. Coupled with his knowledge regarding medicine and human anatomy, it’s not so much a question of if than when.
It would be foolish of them to underestimate him.
He could disassemble a C4 and reconstruct it in under two minutes. Forty seconds for magnum .44, and sixty for a Winchester rifle. Untrained he might be, but inexperienced he’s not.
He still sucks major ass at hand-in-hand combat, though. Which is why he always does everything from afar, relying on wireless technology and radio signals to do most of his jobs for him.
It can’t last. But he’s sure to enjoy it while it still does.
-
Uchi raises an eyebrow. “You certainly got a lot of nerve, coming to me-of all information brokers in town--at a time like this.”
Yamapi ignores him. “What can you tell me about Kame?”
The smile Uchi gives him is slow and deliberate and downright indecent. “Afraid you’ve got to be more specific than that, love.”
“Kamenashi Kazuya.” He spells the name out in a rush, throwing a wad of cash in Uchi’s direction-which he catches easily. “Appears to be about in his early or middle twenties.”
The informant barely spares him a curious glance as he’s counting his cash. “Twenty-four years old, lanky looking guy with sharp eyes. That your guy?” at Yamapi’s nod, Uchi continues, “The third of four brothers, although now all of his family has left Tokyo for indeterminable time. A good ol’ citizen, decent school record - basically, all those boring shit with a disappointing lack of illicit affairs on the side.” He tucks his newly acquired cash in his jeans’ back pocket, before leaning back on the alley wall. “Last known activities: working for the law force with a partner named Jin…something.”
It’s just me and my roommate, Jin, now. No family. They’re all gone.
Kame looked rather down after that that Yamapi couldn’t help changing the subject. Now he feels like an idiot. Working for the law force? And yet Kame didn’t seem to recognize his face.
Yamapi furrows his brows. Something doesn’t add up. “That’s all?”
“Unfortunately.” Hands folded over his chest, Uchi regards him with open curiosity. Then he asks casually, “Why are you using present tense?”
“What?”
“Kamenashi Kazuya’s been dead for the last two years, man.” Uchi shrugs. “One straight bullet to the head.”
“What?”
The informant looks at him oddly. “After all, that was why the whole Kamenashi family moved out.” He pauses. “You look surprise. Why’s that?” the look he gives Yamapi is measuring, assessing, a predator that has just scented a possible prey. “Or… could it be he’s still alive?”
“They ever caught the killer?” his head is spinning. Kame is--how could it even be?
“Nah. One of your Eraser did it.” Again, Yamapi’s head snaps to attention. “Supposed to look like suicide, except his partner-this Jin-person-showed up and blew the whole thing.” Another shrug. “A damn shame, if you asked me.”
Again with this Jin-named-person who works for the law force. Yamapi really, really hopes it isn’t Akanishi Jin.
“If he was as vanilla as you described him to be, then why did they even bother killing him?”
“Remember that gig in Osaka two and a half year ago?”
Yamapi nods. And what a mess it was, lots of blood and drugs with way too much evidence trails. They had to close up two main factories because of it.
“He was a loose end.” Uchi shrugs uncaringly. “Wrong place, wrong time - you know how it is.”
So what, there had been a real person named Kamenashi Kazuya before that thing assumed the name for himself? And yet Uchi doesn’t seem to know anything about it. He glances at Uchi again. The guy stays at the same position, with his back against the dirty alley wall, hands crossed over his chest, a lazy smile still playing about in his lips.
“You know, this is funny.” Uchi suddenly says. “You’re, like, the second person this week to ask about this Kamenashi Kazuya. The only difference? The other person was looking for an ex-Eraser.”
Yamapi’s blood instantly runs cold. He turns around, away from Uchi, but he knows it’s too late as he hears the informant’s gleeful cackle.
“Oh dear… I see how it is now.” He still sounds so amused, although Yamapi notes the calculating edge in his tone. He’s itching to just turn back to Uchi and tell him where he can shove his mole business, but he feels as if he’s been giving away more than he realizes and he just--
He’s really crap at this sort of thing.
So he walks away, feeling strangely like he has betrayed someone all over again.
-
The kiss, when it finally happens, is not at all what he expects.
It’s messy, for one. And awkward. And just plain embarrassing - in that it makes him feel like an inexperienced teenager all over again, all fumbling eagerness and desire without even knowing what he’s doing at all.
He thinks he likes it.
In the first attempt, Kame’s lips miss Yamapi’s and only manage to graze the corner of his mouth instead. The second time, their noses accidentally bump each other’s, and they’re forced to retreat because, ow. The third time, they spend a few seconds silently strategizing the best way to avoid any other mishap, before slowly (and carefully) leaning forward, angling their heads slightly to avoid a repeat of nose-bumping incident, and cautiously letting their lips touch - a second, two seconds - before they had to break away again, giggling helplessly, because their breaths on each other’s noses tickle.
“Oh my God this is so not working.” Kame complains, his forehead a second away from frowning.
“Well, they do say ‘practice makes perfect.’” Yamapi says mildly.
“Maybe we should, you know, wait. For another time. Or something.”
“Maybe we should.” Yamapi agrees.
Then they go back to their respective notes and textbooks, and pretend to be absorbed in their own tasks.
They last for about, oh, thirty seconds, before Kame exclaims, “oh screw this,” and comes at Yamapi. Yamapi only has time to say, “good thinking,” before he finds Kame’s callused fingers cupping his face, thumbs over his cheekbones, hands giving pressure just enough to tilt his head to side slightly and press their lips together - close-mouthed, just dry lips over dry lips, and lasts only over a second, with a slight tremble that he could feel when Kame pulls away this time. But it’s enough - more than enough to convince him that Kame means business this time, that this no attempt at a joke.
So he puts a hand over Kame’s nape and pulls him down, returning the kiss, before he could retreat completely. He takes his time feeling out Kame’s lips with his own, still close-mouthed, before slowly letting his lips part and tasting the contour of Kame’s lips with his tongue - slow, hesitant, but insistent enough for Kame to allow him entry to his mouth and let him roam inside.
The kiss is nothing spectacular; they use too much spit, for instance. They also still couldn’t manage to regulate their breathing enough for it to be truly enjoyable. And despite all that, they also still manage to bump their noses. Again.
“Well, practice does make perfect.” Kame offers afterwards, face flushed an interesting shade of red.
“Among other things.” Yamapi agrees.
Then their eyes caught, and they instantly burst out laughing - from the absurdity of it all.
And for a moment - for a moment, Yamapi could even believe that everything’s alright with the world.
-
“Don’t move.” Yamapi aims his Glock at the person before him.
“Oh my God. Why is it you people always appear when I’m off duty? Talk about wasted opportunities.” Ryo complains, dusting his yukata off rather gracelessly.
“I said don’t-“
Ryo waves a hand dismissively, not even bothering to glance his way. “I’m on vacation right now, and I refuse to work overtime. So shoo!”
Yamapi only looks at him incredulously, his gun still pointing in Ryo’s direction. “You’re letting me go?! Just like that -- no threat, no nothing?!”
Because, really, who’s he kidding? He may have the gun right now, but they both know it won’t last should Ryo feel the need to defend himself. Yamapi’s many things, but delusional is not one of them.
Rolling his eyes, Ryo continues to ignore him. Instead, he bends down and picks up the things he dropped when he literally runs into Yamapi earlier. Yamapi notices they are mostly toiletries, towels, and a spare hotel-issued yukata. “Yes, just like that. So go away, if you know what’s best for you.”
“How can I be sure that you won’t try to disable me the moment I turn my back on you?” eyeing the trained killer in front of him, he sets the safety of his Glock off. He internally winces. It sounds loud and rather pronounced in otherwise deserted hallway.
“Don’t even try it. I won’t disable you because it would be a waste of my precious vacation time, but that doesn’t mean I can’t.” There’s an edge in his voice - a warning. “And you know I never miss.”
Yes, if only too well.
Best to back off then.
Still eyeing Ryo cautiously, he puts the safety back on and steps backward, one careful step at a time. All the while, Ryo’s busy checking out his things, not even pretending to watch Yamapi. Then when it seems he got what he’s looking for, he yawns and turns his back on Yamapi, clearly dismissing him.
Yamapi’s really torn between feeling insulted or relieved.
“My vacation ends in five days.” Ryo suddenly announces, his voice cheerfully resentful. “Do yourself a favor and disappear before then. ‘Cause when it comes down to it? My success rate is still a hundred percent.” Then he continues on his path, swaggering exaggeratedly as he goes. When he reaches the sliding door, he pauses briefly and glances slightly at Yamapi’s direction. “And try to stay away from this place.” He adds, his tone mildly annoyed.
“Why?” Yamapi’s brows crease in worry. “This place is theirs, now?” because he’s sure last time he checked, they never bother to get invested in a remote area places like this.
“No.” There’s no mistaking the irritation in Ryo’s voice, “But I’d much prefer it if my favorite holiday spot isn’t sullied by your traitorous presence. Wouldn’t want to get infected, mind you.”
Yamapi only stares at him in disbelief, barely restraining himself from stomping his foot.
He has always wondered why he and Ryo are not friends, despite the few similarity traits they have. Turns out it’s because Ryo’s a bigger asshole than Yamapi could ever hope to be.
Ryo only smirks and makes for the door.
For a few malicious seconds, Yamapi contemplates telling Ryo that his dead ex-partner, the only person Yamapi knows Ryo ever gives a damn for, is alive; that he’s living somewhere safe and happy out of Ryo’s reach. That the kid doesn’t even remember Ryo.
He imagines the surprise and the hurt and the crushed look Ryo would be sporting, and the devastation and sure destruction that would follow him in his search for the supposedly-dead kid.
It would be such an attractive sight to behold. And nothing-nothing-would ever taste sweeter.
But then he remembers Jin’s face, and the kid’s (Kame, his name is Kame now), and how content they seem to be in their current life arrangement, and he just. He just -
There’s no guarantee that Ryo wouldn’t just kill the kid himself. And should he even decide to (finally) defy orders and keep the kid, it’s almost a certainty that he would erase anybody who ever has a contact with the kid - most especially Jin.
And Yamapi’s not down with that - not at all.
So he just watches as Ryo disappears from his sight, some misplaced guilt and residual malice dancing tauntingly in his wake.
-
Of all the odd-thousands people named Jin in Japan, Kame’s so called roommate just happens to be Jin frigging Akanishi.
It’s hard to miss the irony when said irony almost kills him. Like, literally.
Because as soon as Kame’s out of the room and out of earshot, they instantly stand on the ready: Yamapi pulls out his knife lightning quick, just as Jin brandishes his gun out in a flash-with the safety off.
What the hell.
“What are you doing here?!” Jin shout-whispers, clearly not wanting Kame to hear.
“What are you doing here?!” Yamapi shout-whispers back, waving his knife threateningly. “And put that thing away, for God’s sake! We wouldn’t want anybody to turn up dead here!”
“Oh, I don’t know. Considering your status, it would save me a hell lot of trouble if it was your body which turned up dead!”
Yamapi snorts. “And what are you going to tell Kame?”
Jin’s eyes narrow as his finger pulls on the trigger a few millimeters. Whoops. Sensitive subject. Yamapi tightens his hold on his knife. “Do you even have any idea who Kame is?” Jin hisses through seemingly gritted teeth.
“Do you?” Yamapi hisses back.
They glare at each other, each willing the other to back down.
“What do you want me to say? I’m a cop; of course I know who Kame is!” Jin’s eyes widen slightly as he realizes what he’s saying. Because really, relating him to the law force is a shitty way of introducing your friend, especially if he’s your own roommate.
Might as well come out and say this is my friend. Oh btw, he used to be a criminal.
“I didn’t mean… I mean-“ Jin stammers, eyes still wide, even as his finger on the trigger doesn’t loosen even a millimeter.
There’s a loud clanking sound from the direction of the kitchen, and they both glance at it, making sure Kame’s nowhere within vicinity of the room, before going back to each other.
“If you actually know who he is, then what the hell is he doing here, in your apartment?” Yamapi says, voice nearly a whisper. While the neatness is not Jin’s style, the keepsake around the house screams Jin’s name; starting from the brightly colored wall, the oddly mismatched yet cheerful furniture, through the strange arrangement of the lamp décor in the ceiling. “What are you, an adrenaline junkie? A masochist? Or just plain stupid?” Because this is too much, even for Jin’s standard.
His eyes widen as a realization hits him. “You’re sleeping with him!”
“What?! No!!”
At his near-shout, they both turn as one to the direction of the kitchen again, waiting for a second or two, but there’s no sign of Kame approaching.
“I do not-“ Jin stops himself, and in a much lower voice says, “I’m not sleeping with him!”
When Yamapi keeps looking at him in disbelief, Jin adds, “I’m not! He’s here because it’s not like he has anywhere to go. They didn’t know what to do with him now that he lost his memories, considering there’s not enough hard evidence to send him to jail and all the witnesses are dead and why the hell am I telling you this anyway?!” Jin glares harder at him, probably just realizes that he’s been had.
They’re both breathing hard, each trying to find an opening - something.
And of course Uchi Hiroki wouldn’t know anything about it, since Witness Protection Program is not exactly his forte. At least this confirms his suspicion on why such a high-profile criminal is being let free roaming the street without supervision. The police themselves seem deluded enough to think of the kid as harmless, when he’s anything but. Which is-beyond stupid, really.
Then in a careful, calm, and even voice, Yamapi asks, “You can’t trust him, you fool. They’re trained to lie their way through the worst, and you can’t trust any of them even for a second! They will kill you the moment you turn your back on them! How could you even--”
“Because it’s been a whole year and I’m still breathing!” Jin whisper-yells. “A whole year, and he never leaves Tokyo. For the first three months, he didn’t even leave the house without me shadowing his every move!”
Yamapi grits his teeth. “You don’t know what they’re-he’s-capable of!”
“And you do?” Jin sneers. He fucking sneers. “If they’re as dangerous and untrustworthy as you say they are, then what the hell are you doing, hanging out around Kame for the last two weeks?”
That shuts Yamapi up real fast.
Honestly? I’ve been asking myself the exact same question over and over.
“Yeah, I thought so.” Jin says, finally lowering his gun. Then he proceeds to take off his coat and drapes it over the back of the couch, movement so slow and deliberate Yamapi knows Jin’s whole attention is still on him.
“You believe a complete stranger over your childhood friend?” his voice is quiet, not like he means it to, but more like he can’t find the energy necessary to talk louder.
From the way Jin said it, Kame was the one who told him about those three weeks worth of not-quite-meeting. Besides, if it was one of Jin’s coworkers, then Yamapi would’ve been zapped on the second day. Which means, Kame always shares everything with Jin. His eyes flicker for a second to Jin’s right hand, where a small, simple, nondescript ring snuggles comfortably on his pinky.
The same one he always sees on Kame’s left pinky.
He counts himself lucky he never tells Kame his full name.
Jin pauses, his body halfway turned toward him. “Yes,” Jin says, “Yes. Especially when the childhood friend has become more of a stranger than the stranger himself.”
That hurts.
“You didn’t even give me a chance.” He sounds angry; why does he sound angry?
Jin eyes him then, a hard look in his gaze. “No, you didn’t give me a chance. I guess I’m tired of chasing after you two. Why don’t you go back to Toma and get the fuck off some place-where you two couldn’t hurt anyone?”
But Toma’s dead! Yamapi wants to tell him. Toma’s dead, and you’re the only one left from my past life.
Yamapi keeps his mouth shut. Willing Jin to understand, to read what’s left unsaid in his eyes, because Yamapi knows Jin’s still fluent in Yamapi’s body language. But Jin doesn’t even look at him; his body might be angling toward him, yes, but his eyes are looking anywhere but him.
“Just… stay away from him. From Kame.” Jin adds the name almost like an afterthought. As if Yamapi would actually mistake whom he refers to. “Because right now? I don’t want him to remember anything. And being with you might just trigger his memory.”
He tastes bile on the back of his mouth, threatening to choke him. Fuck if he doesn’t recognize the look on Jin’s face as he says it. And even if he doesn’t, the matching ring on Jin’s right pinky kinda explains everything.
Biting back an automatic response Jealous much? he keeps his voice even as he says, “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”
Jin’s eyes flicker. “And you do?”
At that second, Jin’s tone reminds him much of the fleeting emotion behind Kame’s response after Yamapi’s little comment regarding his name: mildly curious, bordering on casual, with that undercurrent…something that tastes almost like wonder and a certain amount of detachment. Like, like he’s-not lying, not exactly, but more like he’s holding something back. Like opening a door only to find another hundred of closed doors waiting just behind it.
It’s…oddly appropriate.
It is, isn’t it?
He wonders whether it’s only a coincidence, or whether it’s yet another thing one of them pick up from the other after living together for so long.
He blinks.
For the first time, it finally hits him: he’s really, really alone.
There’s a reason why he never tries to find Jin before-despite knowing where he works and how to find him. There’s a reason, and for a long time he convinces himself it’s because it would be inappropriate for a convicted criminal and suspected terrorist to visit a friend who works for law force. That it would cause suspicion and all other complicated stuff.
But the truth is-but the truth is. He’s-
Afraid of being rejected.
Hearing excited footsteps coming down toward them, he instantly straightens up. He lifts his head just in time to see Kame appear on the door, grinning widely and waving a spatula about.
“Dinner’s almost ready. Why don’t you help me set the plate?” then he shifts his attention to Yamapi and adds, “You’re, like, totally staying. Right?”
“Sure-“ Yamapi replies, just as Jin says, “No he’s not.”
Yamapi looks at Jin amusedly, an eyebrow raised.
Kame blinks.
“He’s not.” Jin repeats, looking Yamapi right in the eye. Don’t you dare, his eyes say. “He’s got…things to take care of.”
“Really?” Kame says, not bothering to hide his disappointment. Considering how he’s always been extra careful to layer any negative feelings he may have around Yamapi before, this is a huge improvement, and he thinks to contradict Jin just for that alone.
Only, you know, taking into account the mighty scowl Jin directs at him just out of Kame’s line of sight, the plan is a big no no.
“Yeah, unfortunately. Sorry.” He smiles up at Kame winningly. Just because he can. And because he knows it pisses Jin off. “Maybe another time?”
“Sure.” Kame shrugs, forcing up an answering smile.
That almost makes him run up to Kame and try to make it all better, except. Well. A mighty scowl is mighty, and he knows he’s being let off easy, considering he’s a wanted man and Jin’s a police detective and all. So flee it is.
He retreats without another word.
-
Screw Jin.
For that little act alone, Yamapi vows to never stay away from Kame.
-
When he gets back from the bathroom, he’s too busy drying his wet hair with his towel to realize something’s off. It takes his brain a few precious seconds to recognize the tell-tale sound of the safety of a gun being clicked off. It takes him another second to slowly lift his head and finding the source of the sound. Another few seconds still to process the sight in front of him.
Standing in the middle of the room, fingering the trigger and pointing the business end of a gun at Yamapi’s forehead, is none other than Kame.
Tick tock.
Far in the living room, Jin’s annoying clock is ticking tick tock, tick tock, the faint sound suddenly so pronounced in this stillness.
Frozen still in his state, he keeps dripping drip drip water all over the floor, his towels a half-wet mass that offers nothing in the way of comfort or heat. He’s naked and vulnerable and what the hell he’s been thinking for letting his guard down at all?!
Once a sociopath, always a sociopath.
The bed behind Kame is unmade, covers turned, rumpled and disheveled. A stark contrast to Kame’s attire: a soft looking black turtleneck, a sharp creamy overcoat that hang over his thighs, and a pair of dark-colored jeans that compliments his slender legs well.
He looks sharp and professional and every bit the crazy sociopath killer Yamapi used to know him as except for the fact that he’s barefoot.
“Kame…?” cautious, because he doesn’t know what he’s playing at.
The cold look holds for a second, before Kame tilts his head and stretches his lips in a curve - effectively shattering the illusion. Now he’s only Kamenashi Kazuya, the nerdy kid who likes to ramble on and on and lives off sugar and caffeine.
“Hey.” Kame’s still smiling, his hand waving the gun up and about.
Yamapi tries his hardest to look at Kame’s face instead of at the gun. “Where did you get that?” his voice shook, despite his best efforts to control himself.
The other boy looks at him curiously. “Under your pillow. I didn’t know you like playing police.” The grin he flashes is light, teasing. There’s no mistaking that he thinks the gun is a toy.
“Yeah, well.” Forcing a laugh, Yamapi walks to the bed, a careful step by a careful step. “There’re so many things you don’t know about me.”
But Kame only tilts his head further, a strange look settles in on his face. “You’re afraid of me.”
It’s not a question.
Yamapi is a ball of misconnected nerves, all about appearances and wrong assumptions and nothing really matters but something obviously does. He shouldn’t have, but he did notice that when Kame said that, he meant himself, and not the gun he’s waving around carelessly. “I was surprised, is all.”
The sociopathic kid he used to know never tried that on him; never pointed a gun at his head. He liked his blade way better - all about precision and sharp edges and graceful arc. Nothing says intimacy like a blade’s eye on your skin.
He grits his teeth.
That’s neither here nor now, and he better gets to the present soon.
“Would you mind?” he addresses Kame, who only raises an eyebrow at him. “I need to get dressed.” He drops his towels pointedly.
In a heartbeat, Kame’s facing the door, away from him, but not before he notices the faint blush spreading across Kame’s cheeks. “Um. Right. Sorry. You were taking so long, so I just. Um. Wanted to make sure everything’s alright. I’ll just wait in the living room, then.” Dropping the gun hastily on the bed, he goes to do just that. The door closes behind him with a soft thud.
Yamapi stares at the abandoned gun. His heartbeats sound so loud in the silence behind Kame’s departure. Without wasting another second, he checks the gun’s compartment. But it’s still as he left it: full round, with only a bullet missing. He disassembles the gun, checking every nook with careful precision. But nothing seems out of place. The only change that he could spot is Kame’s fingerprints on the gun’s shell, and nothing else.
He releases the breaths he doesn’t realize he’s been holding.
Never has he felt more unbalanced, like -- like something’s trying to crawl out of his skin. He wipes a hand over his face, but his hand comes away cold, nearly sweaty, and he knows it’s not from the cold air. As he pulls on his jeans and shirt, he can’t help but wonder: all this time, who is he trying to fool, really?
It doesn’t matter-not anymore-whether Kame’s amnesia is genuine or not. Or-or whether he’s still working for The Syndicate, or whether he’s a double agent, or - or. It doesn’t. Because Yamapi’s-Yamapi is.
He puts his Glock on the back of his jeans, relieving in the comfort its weight gives him. His heart is thundering still under his ribcage, even as he couldn’t say it’s a surprise anymore. He’s just donning his jacket as his feet him bring him to the living room, where Kame sitting straight-backed on the couch, head tilted down, Ran held loosely on his lap.
At the sound of his approach, Kame turns and beams at him. Yamapi finds himself smile back.
It’s too late, really.
When the only thing that crosses his mind as Kame’s gun aimed at him was: at least it’s Kame.
Falling has never felt so right.
-
They had loved different things, as kids. While Toma poured his whole attention to what was hidden beneath the earth, Jin had always been interested in the freedom the sky offered, and, by extension, the outer space, while Yamapi contended himself with what he could find on Earth - above the ground, under the sky: a world in between, something to bridge Toma’s need for limits and Jin’s call for freedom.
Hence the globe pendant.
It’s a small little thing, the pendant. No longer than an inch in diameter, with the Earth’s continents carved onto its surface, and added the Neptune’s ring surrounding it twice, the otherwise an ordinary blue ball pendant is truly a beautiful piece of art.
Not to mention also the added bonus of a small, hidden compartment on the inside. Not big enough to fit a hard candy, but certainly enough to fit in a microchip - containing enough information to bring down the syndicate’s most prominent public figures - and more.
A perfect farewell gift to Jin, if he could say so himself.
-
When he planned out everything, he hadn’t actually counted Kame’s reaction into equation.
He couldn’t decide whether that had been a mistake, or not.
Indecisiveness seems to be his permanent set of mind wheneverr he’s around Kame.
Kame doesn’t say anything when he comes by Jin’s apartment that morning. Kame doesn’t say anything when he explains how he’s got to go to settle some unfinished business. Kame doesn’t say anything when he shows him the globe pendant, and puts it around his neck. Kame doesn’t say anything when his fingers linger around his neck as he finishes clasping the straps of the necklace. Kame doesn’t say anything when he tells him to give Jin his regards.
All the time, Kame’s lips set in a thin line, shoulders tense, eyes hard with something that Yamapi doesn’t know how to describe. All in all, he looks taut as a string - one wrong move, and either he’s gonna snap, or he’s gonna break.
And Yamapi? Doesn’t know how to deal with it. So he chooses a coward’s way out: he pretends nothing is amiss, and walks out the door with a whispered good-bye on his lips. And he thinks, at least this way, he knows he has nothing to regret - should he not be back.
He couldn’t be more wrong.
He’s barely out the door when he feels something - or rather, someone - slam into him from behind, snaking their arms around his middle, and making him stumble slightly in his step.
“…Kame?”
Distinctly, he could feel the sharp outline of the globe pendant’s twin rings digging into his back, between his shoulder blades; feel Kame’s face, as the slightly shorter boy rests his forehead on Yamapi’s neck; feel the slight tremble on the tight grip Kame’s arms have around his middle.
Kame certainly feels anything but okay.
“Kame?” he tries again.
“Come by for dinner this evening.” Kame’s voice, when it finally comes, is unsteady and raspy - much like his unusually harsh breathing. “I’ll cook for you. All your favorite foods. So make sure you fit it into your busy schedule, okay?’
Yamapi hesitates. “Kame-“
“You promised, dammit!” the shout surprised Yamapi, since Kame so rarely raises his voice. Then Kame seems to get himself under control again, since his voice lowers considerably when he says, “You promised that you’d taste my cooking a long time ago, but you never did; one way or another, you got away every time I invited you. You told me you were not a liar; prove it.”
“I did promise,” Yamapi allows, “But Kame, this is hardly the time or place-“
“Have I ever asked you for something before?” Kame grounds out trough gritted teeth. “No, I haven’t; so please, just this once, choose me.”
It’s the unexpected note of desperation in those last two words that finally does him in; because, for some reason, it feels genuine and plain honest and so unlike Kame - to finally show some weakness.
Whatever he expected when he turns around, he certainly didn’t expect the naked fear in Kame’s eyes, nor did he expect the blood on Kame’s lips, as his teeth break skin.
“Don’t look at me!” At his abrupt movement, Kame immediately turns his head away and covers his face, not knowing such position makes him look even more vulnerable.
“What-what are you afraid of?”
His question is met with a harsh laugh. “Do you really want me to answer that?”
So many things left unsaid that he doesn’t even know where to begin. He’s not the only one with a secret.
He grabs either side of Kame’s face, forcing him to look at him. “Kame-Kame, look at me.” He orders, giving it everything he has. When Kame finally raises his eyes to meet Yamapi’s, he continues, still in the same hard tone, “Shh, listen, I’m not going anywhere, ok? I’ll just take care of some business, and then I’ll be back before you even realize I’m gone, you hear me? I. Will. Be. Back.”
Liar, liar, pants on fire.
Fleetingly, he wonders if this is how Toma felt when he told Yamapi the exact same words - only to have them as his last words.
“Promise me.” Kame grits out.
Softly, he presses his forehead against Kame’s, and whispers, “I promise.” And then he adds, “I do hope you’ll prepare a feast, though. Because when I’m back? I’ll be hungry as hell.”
That earns him a small laugh from Kame - even if the sound is slightly choked. “You got it.”
And then they’re looking at each other, and there’s *this* pause, and since it feels like the most logical thing to do, they kiss; dry, and only lasts for about one, two, three, four seconds, but it’s anything but chaste.
At least they get it right the first try, this time around.
-
“WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?! ARE YOU DEAF??! I TOLD YOU NOT TO SHOOT, DAMN YOU! I TOLD YOU!!!”
It’s sure loud here; the police’s siren; the general noise of people talking in the background; cars halting suddenly; harsh rain hitting grounds; somebody’s (familiar) voice angrily screaming and shouting over his head.
Too bad he couldn’t hear the words, though.
As he stares up at the far sky above him, he’s reminded of the first time he met Kame: to stare up into the sky at the face peering curiously into the traphole, to realize who that face used to belong to, and to find out the name attached to said face at the time.
He still thinks ‘turtle pear’ is a ridiculous name, but of course he would never tell Kame that. Not that he would ever get a chance to, anyway, with the way his blood keeps pouring out of his body through the impromptu bullet holes.
Jin, you fucker.
Loud footsteps approaching him in a hurry, closer and closer with no regards whatsoever to the harsh rain overhead. Then he hears the dull sound of knees hitting ground (asphalt?) beside him, as well as feels somebody lift his upper body off the ground, one hand around his shoulders.
“Oh God Pi, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry; please open your eyes, come on, open your eyes--” Jin’s voice is shaking slightly, just like the hand he uses to slap Yamapi’s cheeks shaking slightly. “Come on! Wake up, dammit, I know you can hear me!”
Not many people realize this, but the feeling of rain on your bare skin? It hurts. Seriously. Instead of water, it feels like a thousand needles raining down on you - the harsher the rain, the worse it gets. So really, it should only be expected that Yamapi would refuse to open his eyes - especially if the moment he opened his eyes, a thousand needles would rain on his unprotected eyeballs.
Then he coughs out blood from his mouth and nose, and Jin forces him into a half-sitting position, which is not as uncomfortable as his former horizontal position on the ground. This time, at least, he feels safe enough to open his eyes, so he does.
It’s rather disconcerting to see a blurry face right across your own.
“Please hang on, okay? The paramedics are on their way. Please, please, hang on for a second longer, okay?” his voice is still shaking.
He doesn’t have much time left, and they’re wasting it for trivialities; seriously, Jin should consider hiring Kame, if only so that the boy could show him how to manage his time better.
Really, Kame has always been good at it; even before he became Kamenashi Kazuya. Oh right, what was his real name, again? He frowns. He couldn’t seem to remember.
But first thing first.
Blindly gripping the back of Jin’s neck, he pulls him down until he could feel Jin’s harsh breathing across his cheek. “Lis…ten, Kame-you’ve got to…” a series of blood-coughing interrupts him. Oh, joy. Seems all the blood has finally flooded his lungs.
“What, what? What’s with Kame?”
Yamapi really, really hopes it’s only his imagination that Jin’s shaking has gotten worse at the mention of Kame’s name. He needs Jin focus, dammit.
“…for…you… i-inf-infor-at-at…” this time, as he coughs out a lungful of blood, all he could see is darkness - even as he knows he still gets his eyes wide open.
“Come on Pi! Please don’t give up on me! Dammit, Yamashita Tomohisa, you hear me?! I can’t lose you too!! You hear me?!!”
It sounds like Jin’s crying; oh God, is he crying? Over him? After all these years?
Jin, you fucker.
“…K-Kame…neck-necklace-you’ve g-got to…”
“Look, just hang on a sec, okay? The paramedics are here; just a sec, and you’ll be as good as new. You c-could even date Kame openly if you want; come on!”
Dammit Jin, still not the point! Find Kame! Find the globe necklace! Find the microchip! Don’t let my death be in vain, damn you!
“Ka-kame-“
“I’ll get him, okay? I’ll get Kame! So please, just hang on! Pi, you hear me? Pi? P-“
Please protect him. Uchi knows he’s alive, which means they know he’s alive, and they’re going to target him next - missing memories be damned.
It’s strangely quite around here. There’s no noise - only his own fading heartbeat.
He really shouldn’t have gotten close to Kame; after all, it’s his presence that alerted them that their thought-to-be-dead former Eraser is alive and well. He really, really should have stayed away.
Sorry wouldn’t be enough this time.
Because he knows, on the other side of town, away from all the excitement of police and media coverage, a boy named Kamenashi Kazuya is happily tending the kitchen, cutting veggies and roasting beef and boiling soup, with a smile on his face and humming a soft tune under his breath, imagining a family dinner later that night, not even knowing that now his imagination would always be just that-an imagination.
A corpse can’t attend a dinner, after all.
As his awareness finally leaves him completely, he could only think of one thing:
He really, really should have stayed away.
.
.
.
End.
A/N: This fic is supposed to be the first part of three-parter, with the second part and third part filling the holes in this one. Except, well, considering my history when it comes to multichapter fic, we'll see how that goes :p