(One-shot) Complicated
It’s crazy. Crazy, Jin thinks, because nothing ever ends up the way they seem to be, because the world doesn’t give second chances.
Outside. Outside it’s humid, so fucking humid without a raindrop to spare. It reminds Jin of his life; kind of blurry and fast-paced but never the way it seems to be. And everything, everything is just messed up even more, like the smear of an entire paint palette across a canvas by his feelings.
Sometimes, he wonders. He wonders a lot, actually. The sticky heat of summer envelops him, the gray sky that hints at the relief of rain but refuses to give. He wonders, if it will rain. If his life will ever change, if he’ll ever end up breaking down anytime soon.
And then, there’s Kazuya.
It isn’t the clichéd story that spreads like wildfire across the world, nor the fact that Jin has no idea what Kazuya is to him. It’s complicated, is what it is. The way Kazuya kisses him, soft and gentle, but then walks away without looking back. The way Kazuya gazes at him like Jin is the lifejacket and he is drowning in a river, but then smiles a second later, a perfect smile as if he has found his happy ending to the fairy tale.
Jin, Jin just doesn’t get it.
As if he were psychic, and as if he had beckoned with magical powers, there’s a sudden gust of wind that blows a soft knocking to Jin’s door. He raises his head, his eyes void of feeling. “It’s open.”
There’s a tiny click before it swings open with a creak, banging too loudly in the silence against the wall and ricocheting back, but Kazuya stops it with his arm just in time.
More emotions than words can say reflect in Jin’s eyes, something ranging from hatred to confusion to more than deep love. It’s complicated, more than complicated.
“Hey,” Kazuya finally murmurs, no more than a lost whisper in the dead quiet air. There’s a pair of huge, half-face-length sunglasses perched on his head, wisps of hair falling delicately around them and framing his face. His eyes are the color of dirt, masked by the art of keeping feelings to himself for too long.
Mutely, Jin shifts on his bed, an uncertain welcome for the other to sit. Kazuya pretends not to notice, his eyes flickering the slightest, slightest bit as he shifts on his old worn sneakers.
A feeling dawns over Jin, the feeling that this, this will be the end of something. He is suddenly nervous, a cold sweat breaking over his hands as he rubs his palms flatly against the rough surface of his denim jeans. He waits, waits for something, for he doesn’t know what. Waits for Kazuya to say something to begin it, begin the end.
“This…we need to stop,” Kazuya says after a long moment, the words Jin was expecting yet dreads simultaneously.
“We do,” he agrees, the first words he’s spoken since Kazuya has entered the room.
“Yeah.”
Neither of them move, or make any attempt or implication too. Instead, they just stare, stare and glance at anything or anywhere but each other. But somehow, the room is just too small, just too dull and full of nothing. And somehow, they end up staring at each other, uncomfortable and anxious and intense.
The bed groans under Jin’s weight as he pushes himself up, standing and slowly advancing forward until he is only a few inches away from Kazuya, until Kazuya can feel their breaths mingling in the unbearably fucking humid air. He inhales sharply.
“I think we should stop. This everything-but-nothing…what we’re doing.”
Jin nods in consent, tracing his finger ever so gently down Kazuya’s cheek. The younger one’s eyes flutter closed, enjoying the moment for a split second before opening them again. “Jin,” he breathes.
The other doesn’t respond, but instead leans forward, pressing his lips against Kazuya’s in an almost desperate kiss. Kazuya doesn’t pull away; he doesn’t do anything but stand there, letting Jin pour his emotions into the lip lock before finally breaking apart.
“I love you, Kazuya.” There’s a pause.
“It won’t work, Jin.”
“I know.”
The humidity settles even heavier between them, and Kazuya reaches up, touching a finger tenderly to Jin’s lower lip and then placing the same finger on his own lips. “I love you too,” he murmurs, giving Jin the look, that look, as if this is his life he is walking away from.
And then he turns, he hesitates for a moment. He sighs, an almost inaudible breath.
Jin watches as Kazuya walks away, the receding slender figure, down the stairs and out the lobby doors, turning the corner of the street towards his own apartment building. It’s really fucking complicated, Jin thinks.
Kazuya never, ever looks back.