fic: lemniscus (1/2)
Title: lemniscus
Author: prologuesized
Beta: pinkeuphoria1
Pairing: Akame, slight PiKame + Kame/OMC
Rating: R
Genre:: slight AU, Angst, Romance, Darkfic
Warning: Petting and, uh, self-branding.
Notes: My entry for reel_johnny's minireel challenge where a music video was supposed to be turned into a fic. My selected video was David Usher's Forestfire.
Years of course indicate the year when the scene occurs. Every other scene, though, without a year in the beginning is “the present”, which in this case is 2009.
Word Count: 16,200
Summary: Kame knows exactly who he is - a solitude-hating workaholic. When he loses himself, though, he discovers differently.
2005
The sound that comes from the earphone plugs attached to Jin’s portable CD player is quiet even when the volume has been turned to maximum. The song playing is a slow one for a change, lulling Kame deeper into the cosy slumber. A female singer mourns about a lost love and Jin’s breathing somewhere above his head is even and relaxing.
Kame sighs heavily, staring at the warm yellow light radiating from the lamp Jin has on his bedside drawer. It dances on his straightened hair and intensifies the tinge of orange. Somewhere in the background there’s a faint echo of raindrops coming into contact with the window, but it isn’t loud and distracting at all. Kame finds it quite soothing as he lets his eyelids fall closed and snuggles closer to the warmth of Jin’s figure beside him, curled slightly and unmoving for several minutes now. The last time he glanced at the digital alarm clock beside the lamp the numbers had informed him that it’s already past midnight - way past the time Jin’s mother would like them to stay up, and way past the time they probably should. The filming of Gokusen 2 had started early and Kame’s nearing almost an entire day awake. Jin can’t be much better off.
He can feel his jeans sliding downwards but it’s alright. They must be lower than what can be considered socially acceptable, exposing a small portion of his butt crack, but the thing is that he’s with Jin right now and that makes it automatically okay. It doesn’t feel weird or uncomfortable. Perhaps it’s a tiny bit thrilling and mischievous, flirty on the level they are, have always been. There are all kinds of strange relationships people share, Kame has perceived, and theirs is one of those. They’re the kind of friends that could be but aren’t, could maybe always have been but never were, and he finds it oddly comforting.
Jin’s right by his side and his number plate “0±1” presses against Kame’s belly. Kame fists the fabric of the older boy’s crumpled t-shirt in his hands and breathes with his lips grazing the dry fabric. He’s feeling intimate and slightly aroused and Jin’s fingers that caress some of his hair behind his ear are perfectly fitting for the situation.
His heart is beating, Kame can hear it. It’s a soft drumming and he can sort of sense it with the tip of his nose pressed against Jin’s chest. It drums a tad bit faster than his own and when Kame’s eyelids open for a crack he can see the tensed muscles of the older boy’s neck. He lets his lips curve into a tiny smile, too tired to do much else. Too far in the haze to move.
Jin’s fingers slide down Kame’s face to his chin and then the press becomes firmer, tilting his head back. The chain around Kame’s neck jingles quietly. Kame doesn’t resist Jin’s advance but looks up at him tiredly, eyes honeyed with affection he doesn’t quite feel like blocking.
It’s very silent, even with the music, drizzle and occasional rustling of clothes or creaking of bed legs. Jin’s lips are pink and parted and his gaze keeps averting, meeting but not quite meeting Kame’s. His thumb starts drawing a circle under Kame’s chin and Kame attempts to swallow the swollen feeling in his mouth away. He feels like, if he opened his mouth to say something, the words would mush together thickly. It’s an odd thought.
Then the bed sinks as Jin decides to close the distance. Kame’s dumbfounded - it isn’t supposed to go like this, Jin isn’t supposed to do that. He’s breaking Kame’s reality and trying to tie strings together the way they aren’t supposed to be tied in Kame’s opinion, in a way he doesn’t want them to go. Kame moves his head and Jin stops, his lips hovering over Kame’s forehead, barely grazing his skin.
Kame can feel Jin’s determination shrinking away. He withdraws a couple of centimetres and doesn’t say a word. Kame tries to flee the situation and focus on the background music. It grows threatening and he decides to just sit up while clutching his own number plate that hangs from the chain around his neck, hoping not to turn things awkward between them. They aren’t awkward, they’re comfortable. Jin’s his relaxation. He doesn’t want to lose that.
Besides, they’ve got a drama to film. If Jin starts brooding over his actions now they’re going to go through some serious trouble on the set. Kame knows better than to let anything come between him and a successful performance at work. They’re fragile juniors - no debut, no set futures. There are only so many second chances they’ll be given, if any.
“Kame?” Jin asks him with an alarmed tone. His voice is husky and it sounds really loud after all the silence, even though Kame does know it’s not a loud voice at all. He turns his head and smirks at Jin, prepared to sweep the moment under a rug.
“We’re friends, right?” he murmurs back at Jin and lies down again on his stomach. “You and me.”
The pained look on Jin’s face is a pity. Kame’s always thought he’s understood but now he doubts it. Jin doesn’t look like he understands at all. He looks like he’s unable to say anything anymore, unable to do anything but lie with his lips parted and breathing heavy and anxious.
Kame soothes the side of Jin’s face with his palm and peers up at him confidently, offering support. They aren’t meant to be, he isn’t silly enough to believe in vague things like that. He enjoys having a friend with whom he shares a spark with around him, but that’s all he wants. They shouldn’t be idiots.
“I’m kind of tired,” Jin finally manages to croak at him. His eyes are glossy but it’s barely detectable. Somehow he’s really withdrawn though. Kame’s mind makes a brief comparison to a shell with a pearl that snaps shut on his fingers. He gulps but keeps his calm appearance up - he can’t afford to screw this up now or they might drift apart for good.
“Sleep?” he suggests and Jin nods. Kame takes it as a cue to turn the CD player off. He removes his jeans, doing his best not to feel self-conscious all of sudden, and drops them to the floor beside the bed. The CD player ends up on Jin’s nightstand and Kame turns the lamp on with a soft click.
Jin has used the time to turn his back towards him. His body is tense and breathing hitched, and he’s really making the situation uncomfortable for Kame. Kame lies down on the bed and pulls the sheets up to his chin. Jin makes his best attempt not to let their bodies touch, even though the bed has been built for only one sleeper and extra space isn’t really something they have.
He’ll act like these last minutes never happened. They’re just friends, Jin should know that. He might start out a bit hurt and unconfident, but he’ll patch things up eventually and move on. Kame hopes that won’t take the cosy atmosphere they’ve shared for too many years now with it, though. It’s what makes their relationship so special.
The problem is that Jin’s shell stays firmly shut after that. How to lure him out again is beyond Kame’s knowledge.
The sky is veiled with dark clouds predicting rain that seems to never fall. Kame reflects back to when he last saw the sunrays penetrating the clouds and reaching towards the ground - it might’ve been three-or-so days ago when he visited his family for dinner. He isn’t entirely sure, though - he’s been stuck inside buildings for the majority of time to the point where he’s started losing track of time, never mind weather.
The world rushes past fast. People swarm all around Kame as he pushes his sunglasses better on his crooked nose - whether the weather is bad or not doesn’t matter, he’s still one of Japan’s top idols and vulnerable for recognition. The pedestrians push past him, occasionally shoving him aside with their shoulders. The large screen at the intersection is playing some news Kame pays no heed to, too busy with his merciless schedule.
He catches his reflection in the window of an expensive designer purse shop. He stills and examines it curiously, watches other people swarming past him. He hears the city - the traffic, honks, brakes, endless footsteps and chattering, the radio playing inside the shop and a commercial playing on the billboard at the nearby intersection. It’s unbelievable how much noise a single city can produce.
He pushes his sunglasses better on his nose to protect his identity and caresses the number plate hanging from a silvery chain. It reads “8”, a number he’s very fond of, a number given to him at birth. It’s special - not many people have numbers so small, so significant and beautiful in their simplicity. Not in a metropolis like Tokyo.
Someone snaps at him after colliding with him, calling him a rude old man for blocking the way. There’s plenty of space around him but Kame gives the young woman a polite bow and an apology nonetheless and decides to continue his way to work. He squeezes the number plate tenderly in his hand and smiles as he walks amidst normal pedestrians. People don’t really look at him, they’re too busy - maybe it’s for the best, Kame thinks, unwilling to get identified by a possible fan in the middle of the morning rush hour.
When he crosses the intersection, the screen is playing the news again. He ignores it, too caught up thinking about his impossible workload - drama filming, single release and negotiations concerning the upcoming album and tour, dance practices for live performances and a list of TV shows they should attend increasing daily. The news rarely matters to him, he’s noticed - he’d like to follow it, yes, but it hardly makes a difference in his life so he mainly just skims through the daily newspaper in the evening, stopping to look more closely at the sports section and that’s about it.
The sky still refuses to drizzle or pour when his eyes meet a familiar form in front of the glass double doors. Jin’s sitting down on the rocky steps with a dark frown on his face and a lit cigarette hanging between his pursed lips. He’s sealed his hands inside the sleeves of his hoodie and denim jacket.
He turns his head as Kame approaches and something flashes in his eyes, something bitter and wary, unshielded by tinted sunglasses. He’s got dark bags under his eyes and he looks sickly pale in a very worrying way. Kame knits his eyebrows together and tries to keep his composure at least seemingly intact. Jin sniffs and exhales smoke shakily, rocking gently where he sits with his gaze cast down.
When Kame gets closer, he stills and stares at Jin stupidly. Jin’s number plate, which is usually pinned to his hip in a lazy and flirty fashion, is gone. Jin flinches as he recognizes the shocked look in Kame’s eyes and his expression swifts into alarming disgust. His hand shakes as he takes the cigarette from his mouth, drops it to the ground and stomps it with his foot. He doesn’t meet Kame’s eyes anymore before he turns around coldly and slouches away, back to the streets.
He looks naked to Kame. But it doesn’t really matter. He’s not really Jin anymore, he can’t be recognized as himself without his number. It’s not Jin.
Kame flips his number plate in his hand, shrugs and walks inside the building. KAT-TUN has one member less then, he assumes worriedly, and thinks about the increasing work load. How will Johnny react? How will things proceed now?
The dressing room is eerily silent that day. No one hears from Jin since. His self probably evaporates.
2006
Kame sits in the middle of a pile of clattered magazines and newspapers. Photographs of himself and his band members are greeting him with looks from flirtatious to silly to loving to threatening, the selection varying so much it makes them all look like they’re at the very least bipolar (hell, why not octopolar). Kame’s fingers caress his own face, staring back at him with a crooked smirk dancing on his lips.
“I know who I am,” he tells himself, his voice echoing awkwardly in the empty apartment. It doesn’t matter, though. He’s certain, he’s absolutely sure he hasn’t lost track of himself. Saying it aloud only adds to his certainty and he dares to smile, starting to select pictures of himself with different expressions.
He pushes the magazines away to make space for an obsessively straight row of pictures. He eyes them warily but calms down with every passing second. He exhales in relief and caresses the number plate hanging from his neck.
Everything is alright. Nothing has changed, only minor things and that’s natural. He’s still Kamenashi Kazuya, rising star or not. He doesn’t think too highly of himself, he’s not about to let it come in the way. His life is about hard work and setting a respectable character to look up to, being that person.
He lets his eyes travel across the pictures from the newspapers. Akanishi Jin this, Akanishi Jin that, hiatus with an undetermined length, speculation whether he’s ever coming back or not and paparazzi shots. He picks up this morning’s newspaper.
Jin is already gone. Maybe he was gone a long time ago already. Kame doesn’t feel like he’s really been giving his best in the past year or so. Something’s been left hanging, even with the unimaginable talent the young man possesses.
Then again, maybe it was just around him. He can still remember Dream Boys, he can remember Jin’s choked up voice when Kizuna flowed past his lips. He wonders if Jin was certain already then. He remembers the excitingly flirty looks Jin had been throwing during the concerts, the way he had sparkled. That had been around him too.
Nothing about Jin matters, though. He knows himself and he knows what he values, and Jin has shrunken from that list with his actions and cold shoulders. Kame has been forced to place his importance somewhere further away after all the arguments and prissy behaviour, his outlets of jealousy and whatnot.
“I hope he figures it out,” he mumbles and nods slowly, looking at a picture of all six of them, posing with wide grins on their faces. “America could do some good for him. Perhaps he’ll finally mature up a little.”
He hopes Jin figures himself out. He does feel guilty sometimes for unintentionally screwing up with Jin’s identity. But if the man can patch things up again and rise from the flames, they should be fine. He needs some time for himself, time apart from Kame so that he can try.
That’s probably why he left. All the international friends and their support too, his fascination with the language, his desire to be better than them at something even though he should already know that none of them can match up to his vocals, hiprolls or adorableness. Sexiness.
But Jin’s got a fragment he’s chasing now so let him chase. It’s crucial for who he’s going to grow into.
They’re both well off. It isn’t so bad, not most of the time.
It’s finally raining, after weeks of waiting under the impending doom. It’s an unusually persistent and long downpour that floods the streets - one should’ve guessed, Kame ponders bitterly, his third cup of coffee still not waking him up enough. Traffic jams are tougher than ever, pedestrians’ umbrellas break and rip in collisions as they try to push past each other and the water reaches people’s ankles as they try to walk to work. Most of Kame’s meetings have been indefinitely postponed due to transportation difficulties. He just hopes they’ll get back to work soon enough; meanwhile, he works at home.
The television is still persistently working most of the time. Kame has it on just for company’s sake as he sits on the sofa with his knees drawn against his chest, dressed only in his boxer-briefs and covered with a soft blanket. His notebook is resting against the support of his thighs and he’s brainstorming for his upcoming solo performance, brains still feeling dangerously much like mush.
“A series of identity thefts have been reported around Tokyo,” a very serious-looking woman announcer informs with a heated voice and a serious stare towards the camera. Your ordinary drama reporter for serious issues, Kame nods approvingly, kind of looking up to the skill very different from what is asked from him. He’s entertainment. She’s not. “The authorities have received a total of ten reports within the past month. Still, the perpetrator remains a mystery to the police. The head of Tokyo’s police force, Nakamoto Jouji, encourages the citizens to take utmost care of their number plates.”
The picture changes into a bowing and very stressed and tired-looking man Kame immediately emphasizes with. He reaches for his coffee cup sitting on the low couch table and jugs down more of the bitter liquid. The policeman’s hairline is quickly receding and Kame catches his grey roots pushing the dyed black out of the way. “Right now we’re working with a few sketches of the perpetrator, drawn with the assistance of the victims. The gender, age, outlook and social status of the victims vary, so we’re hoping everyone stays alerted to possible robberies related to this case. Please refrain from unnecessarily walking outside alone in the dark or unsafe areas. We’re hoping to retrieve the missing plates for those affected by this issue as soon as possible, and we’re asking for your cooperation.”
Kame takes a brief glance at the sketch displayed on the screen and tunes the rest of the report out, scribbling notes for 1582. He wants to make justice for the hard work put into the song, and portray the right feeling on stage. It’s going to be a big fight with the budget. He’s hoping to win.
His number plate hangs safely on the chain around his neck. Everything is alright. He’s just fine.
He thinks briefly back to Jin. His pen hovers over the notebook and he feels sort of hollow as he recalls the man’s hunched posture as he last encountered him. The missing number plate. He sort of hopes Jin is alright, but…
Then the man is out of his head again - there’s a lot going on at work. Jin’s disappearance had created a sort of an uprising among fans and a scandal in the nosy media. Kame can’t recall the last time he slept for more than two hours, if even that. Too much to do, too little time - there are Dream Boys practices, PV discussions with the director and producer, homework dance lessons for both, solo performance brain storming and discussions, never mind what’s going on with the band, and then there are all the exhausting interviews asking about what it’s like with just the five of them, what are their opinions about Akanishi’s departure that they aren’t even allowed to answer with anything else other than the words and views stuffed in their mouths by Johnny (not that he’d know what to say - he barely has time to think in general). And everything’s postponed for now too, which means there’ll be a lot to do at once when the means of transport start working again.
His living room doesn’t feel quite as cosy anymore. He licks his lips nervously and thinks about the step instructions for the Dream Boys’ songs. Then he glances briefly at the clock. 7 a.m. A yawn racks through his body and he covers his mouth with his arm tiredly, feeling his eyelids drooping.
He switches the TV off and staggers to the kitchen to retrieve his dance instructions. Writing notes will just make him dose off. He doesn’t have the time for that.
2007
The first man Kame ever kisses is Yamapi. Perhaps he’s his first actual love too. He’d always been sure that no matter what comes his way, he’d never get tangled up in any romantic bundles with people from work, but Yamapi has a talent of making all of those thoughts fade away.
When Kame looks back to it, perhaps the sparkles were already there during the filming of Nobuta wo Produce. Those times were particularly dark and exhausting for him. His bandmates treated him like plague off the camera and Jin had started turning his back to him too, so he didn’t really know how to get by. Then the communication between the two of them started spiking up. Yamapi’s one of those great people who actually care a lot about their friends and he didn’t want Kame to sink his boat alone, so he hopped on and offered a hand. It’s a hand Kame likes holding.
In a sense, Yamapi and Jin are very similar. Both are quirky and dumb but filled with energy and bright smiles, and Kame thinks he might actually really like that. It’s not a miracle, though - as far as he can remember those two had hit it off well and been the best of friends, so they’re only bound to share similar qualities. Yamapi’s a lot milder though, more of a follower if anything, and Kame thinks he probably has a much better eye for people’s emotions and thoughts. Jin never was too good with that.
What Kame loves so much about Yamapi is how he opens his eyes to something very new which he had never realised about himself. Because of this, Kame spends sleepless nights trying to figure out what defines him now that so many things have changed in his reasoning and values. He had thought that this would never be something he would want. Obviously, he had been wrong.
He’s pretty sure it’s alright, though. As long as Yamapi will snuggle up with him a few times a week to watch some silly anime and have a good time. Love’s like that, probably. Feeling so much at ease there’s no one else you could possibly want.
It’s not that they’re lonely anymore, that isn’t why they’re together. Months pass and KAT-TUN’s bonds tighten and it isn’t like Yamapi doesn’t have his own band and friends to hang out with, he’s quite a social butterfly. They might’ve started out lonely and miserable after Jin’s departure. Yamapi had been really awkward about it.
After Jin’s return their previously lax relationship turns strained. There’s almost never any time, especially because Kame has to travel for concerts and Yamapi goes out more with his friends. Kame meets up with Jin a few times off work as well. He’s doing fine, stumbling a bit with his Japanese but he’s got a fine tan and he often proceeds to teach Kame some simple and dirty words and expressions people use in the city. Nothing he’d ever come across in a schoolbook.
Jin’s doing well, and they seem to be able to give their friendship another shot so Kame’s cool with his annoying attitude at times. Having Jin accompany them on stage is something euphoric and Kame feels like he sees the bright lights for the first time in his life. He can’t wipe the smile off his face as he throws an arm around Jin’s shoulders. He’s laughing too. KAT-TUN feels whole and right again, no more lonely songs like Bokura no Machi de. It’s like an end for it, except that maybe this is where it all actually starts.
There are the sudden surges of jealousy with Yamapi, though, and they escalate to the point where Kame has to admit that he spends most of his nights holding his face in his hands and crying. Yamapi dislikes Kame “feeling Jin up” and sometimes he tries to quietly bring up the subject of Kame’s feelings towards his friend and what happened between them back before Jin left. Kame’s honest with his answers but nothing seems to be enough. The subject just won’t drop itself.
One afternoon when they’re sharing a cup of coffee Kame gazes at Yamapi. He reflects back to everything and feels the steam rising from his own cup tickling his nose and then he learns something new about himself too. It’s a calm realization, no drama required.
“Let’s break up,” he suggests with a soft voice. Yamapi looks up at him and for a while they’re silent. Kame licks his lip nervously and lets out a deep sigh. Yamapi nods curtly in answer, hesitant and thoughtful but not angry or desperate.
“I guess it’s for the best, isn’t it?” Yamapi elaborates his gesture and shrugs, thumb caressing his mug. Kame nods and bows his head a bit in apology.
“This doesn’t feel right anymore. I think we can find better happiness elsewhere. I don’t feel like I’m in love with you anymore,” he explains himself, wanting to be clear about it. Yamapi nods. He’s taking it really well. Kame wonders if he’s wanted to break up with him too. He could have for quite a while.
“I did love you,” Yamapi nods and looks contemplative with his pursed lips. “We had a lot of fun, didn’t we?”
“We did,” Kame answers warmly and manages to come up with a smile. “I’m thankful for that. You taught me a lot of things.”
Yamapi grins at him a little and empties his coffee mug. “I’ll pack my stuff then, huh?” Clothes, he means and a few accessories and everyday necessities in Kame’s bathroom cupboard. Kame nods. It’s time to start another chapter in his life.
It takes them twenty minutes to stuff Yamapi’s belongings in plastic bags and say their goodbyes with warm and awkward hugs and muffled words. Kame watches him head over to his car and hop in from his balcony, reminiscing over the good times already. He doesn’t feel regret, though.
This part of him was beautiful, and Yamapi was too. He smiles as he directs his face towards the sun and closes his eyes, leaning against the balcony rail. He feels older and more mature now, and ready to experience something alike, no matter how scary the idea is.
His thumb trails the number hanging from his neck.
Two days later he’s back to work, because JE isn’t famous for giving days off rather than because of a notable improvement in the traffic. He’s been lucky, though - a lot of people had not gotten even a few days off like he had. Not that they would’ve been “days off” per se, but still free from running around a lot anyway.
It feels good to hug Koki as a greeting and listen to his endless chiming about the puppies his current girlfriend’s dog apparently finally delivered to the world last afternoon. His story is enriched with pictures he’s managed to snatch with his mobile and Kame’s heart melts and he coos at the pictures with rosy cheeks as the hairdresser works on him with a straightening iron and a whole basket of hair products.
The day goes by in a rush and Kame forgets to eat. His stomach is churning by the time he’s walking home. A thick scent of ramen coming from a nearby restaurant makes the emptiness of his stomach unbearable and he almost wants to decide that his diet can suck it up and just go and get his own bowl but he knows better. He’ll have to jump around half-naked for Dream Boys and nothing but top-shape will do. He’ll just get home and prepare something healthier. Cooking relaxes him anyway.
He buys a ticket for the subway and makes his way to the platform drowsily. The sunglasses pressing on his nose are slowly giving him a headache. His jacket clings to his skin thanks to the drizzling weather outside. He leans against a wall and glances at the clock. Two minutes. That’s not so bad.
There’s a painful pull at his neck and something snaps. Kame gasps and cries. His hand shoots up quickly to rub the reddening skin and he looks at the man sprinting fast away from him, making his way to the escalator and pushing people away. Kame’s heart pounds in his ears.
Everyone is looking at him. For a moment he’s terrified, terrified of getting recognized and stalked home. It’s enough that people do it in secret and attempt to steal his mail and whatever, but he always feels vulnerable when there are lots of people around him. One comes, everyone comes. It can get scary, and he’s kind of too cranky and tired to keep flashing his idol smile for the next few hours.
The fellow commuters don’t do anything else but stare at him, though. When it finally sinks in that his neck is chainless and he doesn’t see his assailant anymore, he goes on panic mode and sprints his way after the man. His number 8 is way more important than a subway.
“Robbery!” he cries in sheer panic as he pushes past people who cry in annoyance and curse after him. “Stop the robber!” Surely someone has to pay attention to him, he looked suspicious at least, running away like a guilty madman… And surely there has to be some fans of his willing to lend a hand.
When he makes his way up the stairs, he sees the man rushing outside in the rain. His heart is pounding in his chest painfully - it has to be the identity thief from the news. The identity thief who’s holding his self in his hand, his number, himself. He screams at the people around him to stop the man but no one reacts - some look confused but don’t get the time to react. He feels helpless, weak and naked.
Tokyo is a large city and Kame loses sight of the man within seconds once he makes it outside. He pants as he finally stops and takes support on his bent knees. People slowly withdraw from him, eyeing him strangely. Kame looks up at them, feeling a lump in his throat. His sunglasses drop to the ground with a clash.
He feels cornered. He clasps his jacket where his number plate used to rest. The city is cold and water runs down his neck to his back, tickling him. People’s eyes avert and they start walking past him again. Some people ignore him to the point of walking into him and Kame falls to the ground, still panting. He shivers in the rain and tries to get up on his feet - the last thing he needs is paparazzi pictures right now. He has to get away.
He tries to hide the loss of his number plate, but no one seems to buy it. People look at him briefly with a superior glance and dismiss him right away. It’s painful. Nothing’s changed, he tries to tell himself as he shivers, still in panic. Everything is going to be alright. Everything is alright. Nothing’s changed. Nothing at all.
He’s still himself and no one can take that away from him. Identity isn’t something that someone can snatch just like that, it isn’t something that can be stolen. No one can copy him or be him. There isn’t a person in the world who can override everything he’s become in the 23 years of his life.
He feels hollow though, as if his self would be slipping away. He doesn’t dare to call the police before discussing the issue with Johnny - he doesn’t want the word to start circulating, he doesn’t want to cause trouble. He just wants everything to get fixed all hush-hush and get back to work.
He leans against his apartment’s door, breathing heavily. He doesn’t feel like he’s getting enough oxygen.
He slides down to the floor and trembles as Ran-chan happily pads her way to him, whining hungrily and worriedly. The dog rests her head on Kame’s neck and her cold nose sniffs Kame’s ear. The world is spinning.
For a moment he kind of does forget who he is.
2007
“What do you want from your future, Kamenashi?” Johnny asks him with a serious voice one day. Kame’s hands are sweating nervously as he sits across the old man in his showy office. It’s still early and the sky is painted with warm colours of orange, yellow and red behind the man’s back. Kame removes his stare from the window and looks at his employer, heart thumping loudly.
No matter how many years he works here or how successful he becomes, he still feels like that awkward teenaged boy sitting across this man, waiting for reproaches and important decisions about his future. Perhaps it’s part of the picture.
“What do you mean, sir?” Kame tries to avoid the question, unsure of how to answer. He thinks about the question often himself but nothing pops into his head right now. He just wants this, that he does know. This is good.
“KAT-TUN’s been very successful, hasn’t it?” Johnny tries to help him ease up a little with appraisals and a supporting smile. He’s not in trouble, then. That’s good, he can rule that out. “You too. You haven’t acted in a drama this year, though, other than that small part in Tanaka’s.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” Kame bows his head quickly, not sure if he’s getting scolded after all. He did attend auditions, he just didn’t pass them. It’s his fault. This year just wasn’t good. He’s had a lot on his mind.
“Last year was really tiring for you, wasn’t it?” Johnny continues. Kame nods, affirming. “How do you feel about acting? Do you want to focus on it in the future or is there something else you would like to pursue?”
“I love acting,” Kame admits honestly and feels a nervous shiver running up his spine. “I think it might be the thing I like doing the most. If it’s possible, I would like to keep having dramas, even with all the work with KAT-TUN.”
Johnny nods and writes something down on the paper before him. Kame gulps, starting to think comically that this whole situation reminds him of a psychiatrist’s appointment. He’s had a few of those for stress, nothing regular or necessary but still.
“But you would like to pursue KAT-TUN actively as well?” Johnny checks with him. Kame nods determinately, sure of his choices. Maybe this isn’t so difficult after all. Not if he knows himself inside out. The thought makes him quite happy. “Alright, we’ll see how the schedules go. What about Dream Boys?”
“It’s challenging,” Kame admits. “But I enjoy it greatly. The staff is always amazing and it’s very different from what I usually get to do so if it’s possible I would like to keep continuing with it for now.” He loves it. The complexity in singing, dancing and acting a part all at the same time, being flown around with wires and learning to look graceful and in control of his body. Learning to be in control of his body. It requires months of work but it’s definitely worth it.
“And your image?” Johnny prompts him while scribbling down notes. “Fanservice has proven to be very successful when it comes to you, I don’t think you should drop it. However, now that Akanishi has returned we do have to discuss this.”
Childhood memories flash in front of Kame’s eyes. Cute approaches and encounters between Jin and him on stage, all the kissy photographs and interviews where they made sure to talk warmly about each other. He swallows a lump that threatens to rise in his throat.
“I think Tanaka is fine,” Kame says with a steady voice. “Our teamwork has been very smooth and it feels comfortable. I think our images are a fascinating match too.”
“Alright,” Johnny nods and smiles up at him warmly. “So, how are things between you and Akanishi?”
“Huh?” Kame mumbles dumbly, taken aback by the question. His hands are getting sweaty again and he’s kind of scared of what Johnny means with his words. Maybe he knows that they’ve been getting this distance between them again and maybe he thinks it’ll affect their work performance. It doesn’t. They’re fine with each other, Cartoon KAT-TUN should prove it already. Nothing shows. They might sometimes struggle to work smoothly, but other than that they’re fine. Sometimes people just grow apart.
“He’s back now, it must be a relief, isn’t it? Missing a second lead vocalist put a lot of strain on you.” Yes, but it put more pressure on Ueda, Kame thinks. Everyone had to fight to make their single as good as possible back when they were working on it and Ueda got a lot more responsibility than before. He’s the one who deserves the praise. “Is he welcomed back?”
“Yes,” Kame nods. “We’re a lot better working whole again. I hope we won’t disappoint you.” He means it. It’s a little fear that keeps lurking around, one he’s very conscious of. But things really have been going well and he’s feeling positive about his career, about KAT-TUN.
“I have faith in you,” Johnny nods with a smile that makes him look a couple of decades younger. The words stir a proud feeling that swells in Kame’s chest. When he joined Johnny’s Entertainment it was because his mother had pushed him into it. He was just a boy with an immense love for baseball. He didn’t want to give up on it for way too many years, but now he’s happy about his decision. This is what he loves.
KAT-TUN might very well be the best thing that ever happened to him.
“What do you mean I don’t have access inside?” Kame mumbles disbelievingly to the doorman in front of the studio. “I’m Kamenashi Kazuya from KAT-TUN. I work here!”
“No access. I’m sorry sir, but I’m required to ask you to leave. Don’t make me call the cops on you,” the doorman bows but his expression is persistent - he isn’t going to budge. Kame feels dumbfounded. This can’t be happening.
“I come here almost every day of the week,” he whispers out weakly. “Look, I’ve got to get in. I’ve got work, we’ll both get in trouble. Just let me in.”
“No can do,” the man apologizes and motions for him to step aside. “I’d suggest you leave now. No ID, no entrance.”
“I got mugged!” Kame cries and falls on his knees to bow down deep. He doesn’t remember the last time he did this - probably in some drama, he doesn’t have a habit of getting himself in trouble where he needs to bow down this deep to apologize. “Please. Please. Just let me in, I’ll sort it out with Johnny-”
The guard is starting to look seriously pissed by now. “You’ve got five seconds to back away, sir. After that I’m required to report this to the police. This isn’t public area.”
Kame bites his knuckles and steps away, nearing tears. This can’t be happening. He backs away to the street, eyeing the guard with a hurt and angry expression and fishes his mobile from his pocket with shaky fingers.
Before he can press the dial, someone bumps into him and makes him drop the device in a lingering pool of water. Kame nearly loses his balance but manages to keep himself on his feet. He turns around and sees -
“Koki,” he exhales in relief and jumps to hug his friend. It feels like all the weight is coming crashing down on him. “Oh god, I missed you.”
Koki backs away suspiciously - Kame has to admit he doesn’t always show his affection as openly, especially on the streets. Today just happens to be a really bad day.
“Tell the guard to let me in,” he gulps. “My number plate got stolen and I-”
Koki’s eyes drop to his chest, taking in the missing accessory. He frowns and looks up at Kame and the look in his eyes changes to pity. Kame’s heart starts drumming in his chest. But it’s Koki. Koki’s been his shoulder to lean on pretty much ever since Jin started distancing himself from him. There’d been a moment of confusion upon Jin’s return when Jin had warmed up slightly to Kame again, but then the awkwardness between them had grown back to the current norm and they’d drifted apart again. Koki stood beside him to support him all the while.
“Oh come on,” he mumbles disbelievingly. “Don’t give me that look. It’s just a number! It’s not like everybody here wouldn’t know it already!”
Koki shrugs without properly looking him in the eyes anymore and starts going up the steps to the doors. Kame doesn’t believe his eyes. The whole situation is absurdly surreal. His number is gone and now Koki’s turning his back to him as well as if he weren’t the exact same Kamenashi Kazuya he’s always been.
“Koki?!” he yells after his friend sharply. “You can’t just leave me-!”
But he does. Kame curses, picks up his phone from the pavement and tries to wipe it dry with his shirt, panic starting to take over him again. This can’t be happening. This is ridiculous. Seriously ridiculous. He doesn’t get people anymore, they can’t be such hypocrites. He wouldn’t ever have abandoned a friend, ever, the fuck…
Jin flashes in his mind. A lone figure sitting in front of the building with a cigarette clinging to his lips, pale, sickly and exhausted. A bandmate everyone abandoned in a matter of seconds, someone no one reached a hand for.
His phone doesn’t work. He shakes his head and curses before throwing the mobile on the ground in a fit of anger. The battery comes out and gets wet. He doesn’t dare to touch it anymore.
2007
Nakamaru has his hands tucked into the pockets of his woollen winter jacket. It’s been silent between them for a long while now but it isn’t entirely comfortable. Their breaths mist in the air and Kame’s hiding his face under the warmth of his scarf. Nakamaru’s nose, that everyone finds rather large, is turning red.
They make their way into an expensive restaurant for dinner. Kame’s been here before on several occasions with a scattered variety of friends but this is the first time he’s bringing Nakamaru here, because he has a feeling that the man might appreciate the food and wine selection and they might find a common interest here.
They order their appetizers and meals and let the waiter recommend them wines to go along with their selections before it’s just the two of them again. Nakamaru’s wearing one of his argyle sweaters again with his number plate neatly attached to his chest with a pin and Kame’s clad in a crisp white shirt because the restaurant is rather high-class and he doesn’t want to stand out in a bad way.
They make their way through the appetizers enjoying relaxing chitchat about work and common friends. They talk about Ueda’s boxing training and sports, mainly football and baseball although the conversations are rather one-sided, and a TV drama they’ve both been following.
They haven’t really had much free time to go out together in a long time and Kame appreciates the occasion. Sometimes the whole band goes out for dinner or drinks but other than that they hardly see each other off work. Most of them agree that it’s a good thing, though - they put up with each other enough every day already, no need to increase the amount and end up fighting most of the time. They can fight over such stupid things. Kame wonders if they somewhere along the way forgot to grow up, no matter how mature they feel every now and then.
“How are things between you and Jin?” Nakamaru asks all of a sudden when they’re halfway through their main course. Kame chews deliberately on his creamy spaghetti and lets the taste of wine in the sauce spread over his tongue.
“I don’t know,” he finally admits. People don’t really ask him this question often, sometimes people give him odd looks that concern him but he isn’t really sure why. Maybe they’re worried for the band. Sometimes he’s worried about their relationship too. They’d better not be a ticking time bomb.
“Haven’t you talked with him?” Nakamaru urges him on, guiding salad to his mouth with his fork. Kame shakes his head. No, not really, they haven’t. “Don’t you think you should talk it out?”
“I think we’re fine, there isn’t really anything to sort out,” Kame answers slowly, thinking about his answers. “We just grew apart. It happens to people. It’s not like we hate each other’s guts. Or are you hinting at something?” he chuckles with a playful smirk, fork resting teasingly on his lower lip. “You’re a close friend of his, aren’t you?”
Nakamaru sweats a little at that. “Well, that’s relative, I don’t really know with him. We do spend time off work and talk sometimes about personal things but I don’t really know how he’s with his other friends.”
“But you have talked something,” Kame notes and takes a small sip of his wine. Almost a bottle down now. It’s a good thing neither of them is driving home. “So?”
“I just think you’ve never properly talked about things,” Nakamaru says genuinely. He sounds slightly concerned and he looks Kame straight in the eyes. He’s serious then, huh. “A little talk wouldn’t hurt, would it? Going through some stuff, what you think about each other, things like that.”
“It’s not like we don’t talk,” Kame grimaces. “He could talk to me if he wanted to. But it just started becoming really awkward again, you know?” he tries to justify their separation. “We’re not alike anymore. I’ve matured, I’m not that silly child who was his best friend anymore.”
“If you just talked,” Nakamaru still tries hesitantly, a frown on his face.
“I’ve actually decided to give up on him,” Kame admits with a nod and eats neatly another forkful of his pasta. “It’s about time to let go. The memories are good but it’s about time we accepted the present situation.” He smiles a little as he looks back at Nakamaru. “We get along fine, don’t worry. It’s just that that’s it. And it’s alright.”
“If you say so,” Nakamaru sighs in defeat and reaches for his wine glass. Kame looks at the lamp hanging from the ceiling and wipes his mouth with his napkin, feeling squeamish on his seat. It’s another thing to think about it than to say it aloud. Now, though…
He feels like he can finally bid farewell to the most beautiful friendship of his youth.
Jin opens his door ajar with an apathetic look in his eyes. Kame shivers, soaked in the pouring rain. His hair clings to his forehead and his teeth clatter as he stares at Jin helplessly, eyes bloodshot and insides disgustingly hollow.
Jin’s eyes slowly trace Kame’s neck and chest, taking in the missing presence of Kame’s self. He opens the door more and lets Kame in without a further word. He looks exhausted and sad as he stands beside Kame, waiting for him to remove his shoes before leading him to the bathroom where he gives him a soft towel picturing a woman on her knees, large breasts exposed. Kame wraps it around himself thankfully and hiccups.
“I didn’t know where else to go,” he mumbles speedily. Jin nods and scratches his nose - that’s still normal. Just like always. It nearly pushes Kame into tears again. Scary.
“I’ve never felt so empty,” he whispers with a broken voice. Jin doesn’t hesitate when he wraps his arms around him and pulls him close, burying his face in the crook of Kame’s neck. He understands. Some people out there might understand too, but no one else they would know.
Jin must’ve been painfully lonely. The guilt clings to Kame like a tumour. He tries not to breathe in Jin’s overgrown hair and choke on it as he returns the embrace. He feels like a little child afraid of monsters in the dark.
“We’re never nothing,” Jin whispers to him, his fingers clenching the towel on Kame’s back. “I’ll never become nothing.” Almost reassuring. Almost.
It’s like a chime Jin has kept repeating to himself over and over again, something that has started to lose its meaning with every repeat. Jin feels nearly like nothing at all in Kame’s arms. He’s not the person he used to be, he isn’t the Jin with the billion watt smile, determination to be himself and silly teenage behaviour.
Jin is nothing, as simple as that. And, quickly, Kame is turning into nothing at all as well. He can feel it spreading like a disease, fuelled by everyone around him, KAT-TUN’s remaining members, even people he doesn’t know… everyone.
Jin’s lips press against his. Kame gasps and freezes in the man’s hold. His hands drop to his sides and he yanks his head away. Jin pants as he looks him in the eyes. Kame gulps and takes a few steps back, alarmed.
“What the fuck, Jin?” he whispers numbly and shakes his head disbelievingly.
Jin’s gaze averts. He looks away and scratches his nose again, wet splotches on his hoodie.
Kame’s thought they were over this already many, many years ago.
“Leave,” he commands and the blood in Kame’s veins freezes. What.
“Jin, the fuck,” he repeats more shortly and stares at the man, starting to grow annoyed. Jin’s eyes flash - embarrassment, fury, disappointment, whatever. It’s more than he’s shown in front of Kame for several years now. They aren’t the best friends they used to be.
He lets out a bloodcurdling scream as Jin grabs a painful hold of him and starts to wrestle him towards the foyer. Jin’s arms are strong and Kame’s struggle seems pointless and he finally changes his tactics and instead tries to cling onto the man in panic.
“You can’t do this,” he splutters in panic, voice hoarse and breathy. “You can’t fucking do this, Jin! YOU CAN’T FUCKING DO THIS!”
“Don’t come here anymore,” Jin spits at him poisonously as he throws him out the door and kicks his shoes after him. “Stay the fuck away, Kamenashi.”
“JIN!” Kame screams and makes a lunge for it, but Jin’s door is already closed. He bangs against the door with his fist and tries the handle. “Jin, I’ve got nowhere else to go! You can’t just throw me out! Open the door!”
No answer. Kame waits hopefully but no. Seconds start turning into minutes. He knocks again.
“Jin, let’s talk about this,” he tries another approach with a shaky voice. Even he himself doesn’t believe in any chances of lulling Jin out of his shell anymore. “Jin, please. We’re friends. O-open the door. Please.”
Not that Jin really has any reason to open the door. Why is he even here? Why did Jin even let him in? Because they’re companions. Rejects, social outcast, even more so than anyone else. They’re each other’s last hope to hold on to anything. Last option.
“Please,” he tries again, pushing the handle down. The door remains locked. He wonders how messed up Jin is by now and the thought makes him shiver.
He admits defeat and picks up his shoes in his hands as he starts walking away in the rain. The towel had dropped sometime during the struggle - no use of that either then. He’s wet and cold and alone as he makes his way to the streets.
What now? He doesn’t know.
He wishes he did. Not knowing makes him wonder if he knows himself at all anymore.
PART 2
Author: prologuesized
Beta: pinkeuphoria1
Pairing: Akame, slight PiKame + Kame/OMC
Rating: R
Genre:: slight AU, Angst, Romance, Darkfic
Warning: Petting and, uh, self-branding.
Notes: My entry for reel_johnny's minireel challenge where a music video was supposed to be turned into a fic. My selected video was David Usher's Forestfire.
Years of course indicate the year when the scene occurs. Every other scene, though, without a year in the beginning is “the present”, which in this case is 2009.
Word Count: 16,200
Summary: Kame knows exactly who he is - a solitude-hating workaholic. When he loses himself, though, he discovers differently.
2005
The sound that comes from the earphone plugs attached to Jin’s portable CD player is quiet even when the volume has been turned to maximum. The song playing is a slow one for a change, lulling Kame deeper into the cosy slumber. A female singer mourns about a lost love and Jin’s breathing somewhere above his head is even and relaxing.
Kame sighs heavily, staring at the warm yellow light radiating from the lamp Jin has on his bedside drawer. It dances on his straightened hair and intensifies the tinge of orange. Somewhere in the background there’s a faint echo of raindrops coming into contact with the window, but it isn’t loud and distracting at all. Kame finds it quite soothing as he lets his eyelids fall closed and snuggles closer to the warmth of Jin’s figure beside him, curled slightly and unmoving for several minutes now. The last time he glanced at the digital alarm clock beside the lamp the numbers had informed him that it’s already past midnight - way past the time Jin’s mother would like them to stay up, and way past the time they probably should. The filming of Gokusen 2 had started early and Kame’s nearing almost an entire day awake. Jin can’t be much better off.
He can feel his jeans sliding downwards but it’s alright. They must be lower than what can be considered socially acceptable, exposing a small portion of his butt crack, but the thing is that he’s with Jin right now and that makes it automatically okay. It doesn’t feel weird or uncomfortable. Perhaps it’s a tiny bit thrilling and mischievous, flirty on the level they are, have always been. There are all kinds of strange relationships people share, Kame has perceived, and theirs is one of those. They’re the kind of friends that could be but aren’t, could maybe always have been but never were, and he finds it oddly comforting.
Jin’s right by his side and his number plate “0±1” presses against Kame’s belly. Kame fists the fabric of the older boy’s crumpled t-shirt in his hands and breathes with his lips grazing the dry fabric. He’s feeling intimate and slightly aroused and Jin’s fingers that caress some of his hair behind his ear are perfectly fitting for the situation.
His heart is beating, Kame can hear it. It’s a soft drumming and he can sort of sense it with the tip of his nose pressed against Jin’s chest. It drums a tad bit faster than his own and when Kame’s eyelids open for a crack he can see the tensed muscles of the older boy’s neck. He lets his lips curve into a tiny smile, too tired to do much else. Too far in the haze to move.
Jin’s fingers slide down Kame’s face to his chin and then the press becomes firmer, tilting his head back. The chain around Kame’s neck jingles quietly. Kame doesn’t resist Jin’s advance but looks up at him tiredly, eyes honeyed with affection he doesn’t quite feel like blocking.
It’s very silent, even with the music, drizzle and occasional rustling of clothes or creaking of bed legs. Jin’s lips are pink and parted and his gaze keeps averting, meeting but not quite meeting Kame’s. His thumb starts drawing a circle under Kame’s chin and Kame attempts to swallow the swollen feeling in his mouth away. He feels like, if he opened his mouth to say something, the words would mush together thickly. It’s an odd thought.
Then the bed sinks as Jin decides to close the distance. Kame’s dumbfounded - it isn’t supposed to go like this, Jin isn’t supposed to do that. He’s breaking Kame’s reality and trying to tie strings together the way they aren’t supposed to be tied in Kame’s opinion, in a way he doesn’t want them to go. Kame moves his head and Jin stops, his lips hovering over Kame’s forehead, barely grazing his skin.
Kame can feel Jin’s determination shrinking away. He withdraws a couple of centimetres and doesn’t say a word. Kame tries to flee the situation and focus on the background music. It grows threatening and he decides to just sit up while clutching his own number plate that hangs from the chain around his neck, hoping not to turn things awkward between them. They aren’t awkward, they’re comfortable. Jin’s his relaxation. He doesn’t want to lose that.
Besides, they’ve got a drama to film. If Jin starts brooding over his actions now they’re going to go through some serious trouble on the set. Kame knows better than to let anything come between him and a successful performance at work. They’re fragile juniors - no debut, no set futures. There are only so many second chances they’ll be given, if any.
“Kame?” Jin asks him with an alarmed tone. His voice is husky and it sounds really loud after all the silence, even though Kame does know it’s not a loud voice at all. He turns his head and smirks at Jin, prepared to sweep the moment under a rug.
“We’re friends, right?” he murmurs back at Jin and lies down again on his stomach. “You and me.”
The pained look on Jin’s face is a pity. Kame’s always thought he’s understood but now he doubts it. Jin doesn’t look like he understands at all. He looks like he’s unable to say anything anymore, unable to do anything but lie with his lips parted and breathing heavy and anxious.
Kame soothes the side of Jin’s face with his palm and peers up at him confidently, offering support. They aren’t meant to be, he isn’t silly enough to believe in vague things like that. He enjoys having a friend with whom he shares a spark with around him, but that’s all he wants. They shouldn’t be idiots.
“I’m kind of tired,” Jin finally manages to croak at him. His eyes are glossy but it’s barely detectable. Somehow he’s really withdrawn though. Kame’s mind makes a brief comparison to a shell with a pearl that snaps shut on his fingers. He gulps but keeps his calm appearance up - he can’t afford to screw this up now or they might drift apart for good.
“Sleep?” he suggests and Jin nods. Kame takes it as a cue to turn the CD player off. He removes his jeans, doing his best not to feel self-conscious all of sudden, and drops them to the floor beside the bed. The CD player ends up on Jin’s nightstand and Kame turns the lamp on with a soft click.
Jin has used the time to turn his back towards him. His body is tense and breathing hitched, and he’s really making the situation uncomfortable for Kame. Kame lies down on the bed and pulls the sheets up to his chin. Jin makes his best attempt not to let their bodies touch, even though the bed has been built for only one sleeper and extra space isn’t really something they have.
He’ll act like these last minutes never happened. They’re just friends, Jin should know that. He might start out a bit hurt and unconfident, but he’ll patch things up eventually and move on. Kame hopes that won’t take the cosy atmosphere they’ve shared for too many years now with it, though. It’s what makes their relationship so special.
The problem is that Jin’s shell stays firmly shut after that. How to lure him out again is beyond Kame’s knowledge.
The sky is veiled with dark clouds predicting rain that seems to never fall. Kame reflects back to when he last saw the sunrays penetrating the clouds and reaching towards the ground - it might’ve been three-or-so days ago when he visited his family for dinner. He isn’t entirely sure, though - he’s been stuck inside buildings for the majority of time to the point where he’s started losing track of time, never mind weather.
The world rushes past fast. People swarm all around Kame as he pushes his sunglasses better on his crooked nose - whether the weather is bad or not doesn’t matter, he’s still one of Japan’s top idols and vulnerable for recognition. The pedestrians push past him, occasionally shoving him aside with their shoulders. The large screen at the intersection is playing some news Kame pays no heed to, too busy with his merciless schedule.
He catches his reflection in the window of an expensive designer purse shop. He stills and examines it curiously, watches other people swarming past him. He hears the city - the traffic, honks, brakes, endless footsteps and chattering, the radio playing inside the shop and a commercial playing on the billboard at the nearby intersection. It’s unbelievable how much noise a single city can produce.
He pushes his sunglasses better on his nose to protect his identity and caresses the number plate hanging from a silvery chain. It reads “8”, a number he’s very fond of, a number given to him at birth. It’s special - not many people have numbers so small, so significant and beautiful in their simplicity. Not in a metropolis like Tokyo.
Someone snaps at him after colliding with him, calling him a rude old man for blocking the way. There’s plenty of space around him but Kame gives the young woman a polite bow and an apology nonetheless and decides to continue his way to work. He squeezes the number plate tenderly in his hand and smiles as he walks amidst normal pedestrians. People don’t really look at him, they’re too busy - maybe it’s for the best, Kame thinks, unwilling to get identified by a possible fan in the middle of the morning rush hour.
When he crosses the intersection, the screen is playing the news again. He ignores it, too caught up thinking about his impossible workload - drama filming, single release and negotiations concerning the upcoming album and tour, dance practices for live performances and a list of TV shows they should attend increasing daily. The news rarely matters to him, he’s noticed - he’d like to follow it, yes, but it hardly makes a difference in his life so he mainly just skims through the daily newspaper in the evening, stopping to look more closely at the sports section and that’s about it.
The sky still refuses to drizzle or pour when his eyes meet a familiar form in front of the glass double doors. Jin’s sitting down on the rocky steps with a dark frown on his face and a lit cigarette hanging between his pursed lips. He’s sealed his hands inside the sleeves of his hoodie and denim jacket.
He turns his head as Kame approaches and something flashes in his eyes, something bitter and wary, unshielded by tinted sunglasses. He’s got dark bags under his eyes and he looks sickly pale in a very worrying way. Kame knits his eyebrows together and tries to keep his composure at least seemingly intact. Jin sniffs and exhales smoke shakily, rocking gently where he sits with his gaze cast down.
When Kame gets closer, he stills and stares at Jin stupidly. Jin’s number plate, which is usually pinned to his hip in a lazy and flirty fashion, is gone. Jin flinches as he recognizes the shocked look in Kame’s eyes and his expression swifts into alarming disgust. His hand shakes as he takes the cigarette from his mouth, drops it to the ground and stomps it with his foot. He doesn’t meet Kame’s eyes anymore before he turns around coldly and slouches away, back to the streets.
He looks naked to Kame. But it doesn’t really matter. He’s not really Jin anymore, he can’t be recognized as himself without his number. It’s not Jin.
Kame flips his number plate in his hand, shrugs and walks inside the building. KAT-TUN has one member less then, he assumes worriedly, and thinks about the increasing work load. How will Johnny react? How will things proceed now?
The dressing room is eerily silent that day. No one hears from Jin since. His self probably evaporates.
2006
Kame sits in the middle of a pile of clattered magazines and newspapers. Photographs of himself and his band members are greeting him with looks from flirtatious to silly to loving to threatening, the selection varying so much it makes them all look like they’re at the very least bipolar (hell, why not octopolar). Kame’s fingers caress his own face, staring back at him with a crooked smirk dancing on his lips.
“I know who I am,” he tells himself, his voice echoing awkwardly in the empty apartment. It doesn’t matter, though. He’s certain, he’s absolutely sure he hasn’t lost track of himself. Saying it aloud only adds to his certainty and he dares to smile, starting to select pictures of himself with different expressions.
He pushes the magazines away to make space for an obsessively straight row of pictures. He eyes them warily but calms down with every passing second. He exhales in relief and caresses the number plate hanging from his neck.
Everything is alright. Nothing has changed, only minor things and that’s natural. He’s still Kamenashi Kazuya, rising star or not. He doesn’t think too highly of himself, he’s not about to let it come in the way. His life is about hard work and setting a respectable character to look up to, being that person.
He lets his eyes travel across the pictures from the newspapers. Akanishi Jin this, Akanishi Jin that, hiatus with an undetermined length, speculation whether he’s ever coming back or not and paparazzi shots. He picks up this morning’s newspaper.
Jin is already gone. Maybe he was gone a long time ago already. Kame doesn’t feel like he’s really been giving his best in the past year or so. Something’s been left hanging, even with the unimaginable talent the young man possesses.
Then again, maybe it was just around him. He can still remember Dream Boys, he can remember Jin’s choked up voice when Kizuna flowed past his lips. He wonders if Jin was certain already then. He remembers the excitingly flirty looks Jin had been throwing during the concerts, the way he had sparkled. That had been around him too.
Nothing about Jin matters, though. He knows himself and he knows what he values, and Jin has shrunken from that list with his actions and cold shoulders. Kame has been forced to place his importance somewhere further away after all the arguments and prissy behaviour, his outlets of jealousy and whatnot.
“I hope he figures it out,” he mumbles and nods slowly, looking at a picture of all six of them, posing with wide grins on their faces. “America could do some good for him. Perhaps he’ll finally mature up a little.”
He hopes Jin figures himself out. He does feel guilty sometimes for unintentionally screwing up with Jin’s identity. But if the man can patch things up again and rise from the flames, they should be fine. He needs some time for himself, time apart from Kame so that he can try.
That’s probably why he left. All the international friends and their support too, his fascination with the language, his desire to be better than them at something even though he should already know that none of them can match up to his vocals, hiprolls or adorableness. Sexiness.
But Jin’s got a fragment he’s chasing now so let him chase. It’s crucial for who he’s going to grow into.
They’re both well off. It isn’t so bad, not most of the time.
It’s finally raining, after weeks of waiting under the impending doom. It’s an unusually persistent and long downpour that floods the streets - one should’ve guessed, Kame ponders bitterly, his third cup of coffee still not waking him up enough. Traffic jams are tougher than ever, pedestrians’ umbrellas break and rip in collisions as they try to push past each other and the water reaches people’s ankles as they try to walk to work. Most of Kame’s meetings have been indefinitely postponed due to transportation difficulties. He just hopes they’ll get back to work soon enough; meanwhile, he works at home.
The television is still persistently working most of the time. Kame has it on just for company’s sake as he sits on the sofa with his knees drawn against his chest, dressed only in his boxer-briefs and covered with a soft blanket. His notebook is resting against the support of his thighs and he’s brainstorming for his upcoming solo performance, brains still feeling dangerously much like mush.
“A series of identity thefts have been reported around Tokyo,” a very serious-looking woman announcer informs with a heated voice and a serious stare towards the camera. Your ordinary drama reporter for serious issues, Kame nods approvingly, kind of looking up to the skill very different from what is asked from him. He’s entertainment. She’s not. “The authorities have received a total of ten reports within the past month. Still, the perpetrator remains a mystery to the police. The head of Tokyo’s police force, Nakamoto Jouji, encourages the citizens to take utmost care of their number plates.”
The picture changes into a bowing and very stressed and tired-looking man Kame immediately emphasizes with. He reaches for his coffee cup sitting on the low couch table and jugs down more of the bitter liquid. The policeman’s hairline is quickly receding and Kame catches his grey roots pushing the dyed black out of the way. “Right now we’re working with a few sketches of the perpetrator, drawn with the assistance of the victims. The gender, age, outlook and social status of the victims vary, so we’re hoping everyone stays alerted to possible robberies related to this case. Please refrain from unnecessarily walking outside alone in the dark or unsafe areas. We’re hoping to retrieve the missing plates for those affected by this issue as soon as possible, and we’re asking for your cooperation.”
Kame takes a brief glance at the sketch displayed on the screen and tunes the rest of the report out, scribbling notes for 1582. He wants to make justice for the hard work put into the song, and portray the right feeling on stage. It’s going to be a big fight with the budget. He’s hoping to win.
His number plate hangs safely on the chain around his neck. Everything is alright. He’s just fine.
He thinks briefly back to Jin. His pen hovers over the notebook and he feels sort of hollow as he recalls the man’s hunched posture as he last encountered him. The missing number plate. He sort of hopes Jin is alright, but…
Then the man is out of his head again - there’s a lot going on at work. Jin’s disappearance had created a sort of an uprising among fans and a scandal in the nosy media. Kame can’t recall the last time he slept for more than two hours, if even that. Too much to do, too little time - there are Dream Boys practices, PV discussions with the director and producer, homework dance lessons for both, solo performance brain storming and discussions, never mind what’s going on with the band, and then there are all the exhausting interviews asking about what it’s like with just the five of them, what are their opinions about Akanishi’s departure that they aren’t even allowed to answer with anything else other than the words and views stuffed in their mouths by Johnny (not that he’d know what to say - he barely has time to think in general). And everything’s postponed for now too, which means there’ll be a lot to do at once when the means of transport start working again.
His living room doesn’t feel quite as cosy anymore. He licks his lips nervously and thinks about the step instructions for the Dream Boys’ songs. Then he glances briefly at the clock. 7 a.m. A yawn racks through his body and he covers his mouth with his arm tiredly, feeling his eyelids drooping.
He switches the TV off and staggers to the kitchen to retrieve his dance instructions. Writing notes will just make him dose off. He doesn’t have the time for that.
2007
The first man Kame ever kisses is Yamapi. Perhaps he’s his first actual love too. He’d always been sure that no matter what comes his way, he’d never get tangled up in any romantic bundles with people from work, but Yamapi has a talent of making all of those thoughts fade away.
When Kame looks back to it, perhaps the sparkles were already there during the filming of Nobuta wo Produce. Those times were particularly dark and exhausting for him. His bandmates treated him like plague off the camera and Jin had started turning his back to him too, so he didn’t really know how to get by. Then the communication between the two of them started spiking up. Yamapi’s one of those great people who actually care a lot about their friends and he didn’t want Kame to sink his boat alone, so he hopped on and offered a hand. It’s a hand Kame likes holding.
In a sense, Yamapi and Jin are very similar. Both are quirky and dumb but filled with energy and bright smiles, and Kame thinks he might actually really like that. It’s not a miracle, though - as far as he can remember those two had hit it off well and been the best of friends, so they’re only bound to share similar qualities. Yamapi’s a lot milder though, more of a follower if anything, and Kame thinks he probably has a much better eye for people’s emotions and thoughts. Jin never was too good with that.
What Kame loves so much about Yamapi is how he opens his eyes to something very new which he had never realised about himself. Because of this, Kame spends sleepless nights trying to figure out what defines him now that so many things have changed in his reasoning and values. He had thought that this would never be something he would want. Obviously, he had been wrong.
He’s pretty sure it’s alright, though. As long as Yamapi will snuggle up with him a few times a week to watch some silly anime and have a good time. Love’s like that, probably. Feeling so much at ease there’s no one else you could possibly want.
It’s not that they’re lonely anymore, that isn’t why they’re together. Months pass and KAT-TUN’s bonds tighten and it isn’t like Yamapi doesn’t have his own band and friends to hang out with, he’s quite a social butterfly. They might’ve started out lonely and miserable after Jin’s departure. Yamapi had been really awkward about it.
After Jin’s return their previously lax relationship turns strained. There’s almost never any time, especially because Kame has to travel for concerts and Yamapi goes out more with his friends. Kame meets up with Jin a few times off work as well. He’s doing fine, stumbling a bit with his Japanese but he’s got a fine tan and he often proceeds to teach Kame some simple and dirty words and expressions people use in the city. Nothing he’d ever come across in a schoolbook.
Jin’s doing well, and they seem to be able to give their friendship another shot so Kame’s cool with his annoying attitude at times. Having Jin accompany them on stage is something euphoric and Kame feels like he sees the bright lights for the first time in his life. He can’t wipe the smile off his face as he throws an arm around Jin’s shoulders. He’s laughing too. KAT-TUN feels whole and right again, no more lonely songs like Bokura no Machi de. It’s like an end for it, except that maybe this is where it all actually starts.
There are the sudden surges of jealousy with Yamapi, though, and they escalate to the point where Kame has to admit that he spends most of his nights holding his face in his hands and crying. Yamapi dislikes Kame “feeling Jin up” and sometimes he tries to quietly bring up the subject of Kame’s feelings towards his friend and what happened between them back before Jin left. Kame’s honest with his answers but nothing seems to be enough. The subject just won’t drop itself.
One afternoon when they’re sharing a cup of coffee Kame gazes at Yamapi. He reflects back to everything and feels the steam rising from his own cup tickling his nose and then he learns something new about himself too. It’s a calm realization, no drama required.
“Let’s break up,” he suggests with a soft voice. Yamapi looks up at him and for a while they’re silent. Kame licks his lip nervously and lets out a deep sigh. Yamapi nods curtly in answer, hesitant and thoughtful but not angry or desperate.
“I guess it’s for the best, isn’t it?” Yamapi elaborates his gesture and shrugs, thumb caressing his mug. Kame nods and bows his head a bit in apology.
“This doesn’t feel right anymore. I think we can find better happiness elsewhere. I don’t feel like I’m in love with you anymore,” he explains himself, wanting to be clear about it. Yamapi nods. He’s taking it really well. Kame wonders if he’s wanted to break up with him too. He could have for quite a while.
“I did love you,” Yamapi nods and looks contemplative with his pursed lips. “We had a lot of fun, didn’t we?”
“We did,” Kame answers warmly and manages to come up with a smile. “I’m thankful for that. You taught me a lot of things.”
Yamapi grins at him a little and empties his coffee mug. “I’ll pack my stuff then, huh?” Clothes, he means and a few accessories and everyday necessities in Kame’s bathroom cupboard. Kame nods. It’s time to start another chapter in his life.
It takes them twenty minutes to stuff Yamapi’s belongings in plastic bags and say their goodbyes with warm and awkward hugs and muffled words. Kame watches him head over to his car and hop in from his balcony, reminiscing over the good times already. He doesn’t feel regret, though.
This part of him was beautiful, and Yamapi was too. He smiles as he directs his face towards the sun and closes his eyes, leaning against the balcony rail. He feels older and more mature now, and ready to experience something alike, no matter how scary the idea is.
His thumb trails the number hanging from his neck.
Two days later he’s back to work, because JE isn’t famous for giving days off rather than because of a notable improvement in the traffic. He’s been lucky, though - a lot of people had not gotten even a few days off like he had. Not that they would’ve been “days off” per se, but still free from running around a lot anyway.
It feels good to hug Koki as a greeting and listen to his endless chiming about the puppies his current girlfriend’s dog apparently finally delivered to the world last afternoon. His story is enriched with pictures he’s managed to snatch with his mobile and Kame’s heart melts and he coos at the pictures with rosy cheeks as the hairdresser works on him with a straightening iron and a whole basket of hair products.
The day goes by in a rush and Kame forgets to eat. His stomach is churning by the time he’s walking home. A thick scent of ramen coming from a nearby restaurant makes the emptiness of his stomach unbearable and he almost wants to decide that his diet can suck it up and just go and get his own bowl but he knows better. He’ll have to jump around half-naked for Dream Boys and nothing but top-shape will do. He’ll just get home and prepare something healthier. Cooking relaxes him anyway.
He buys a ticket for the subway and makes his way to the platform drowsily. The sunglasses pressing on his nose are slowly giving him a headache. His jacket clings to his skin thanks to the drizzling weather outside. He leans against a wall and glances at the clock. Two minutes. That’s not so bad.
There’s a painful pull at his neck and something snaps. Kame gasps and cries. His hand shoots up quickly to rub the reddening skin and he looks at the man sprinting fast away from him, making his way to the escalator and pushing people away. Kame’s heart pounds in his ears.
Everyone is looking at him. For a moment he’s terrified, terrified of getting recognized and stalked home. It’s enough that people do it in secret and attempt to steal his mail and whatever, but he always feels vulnerable when there are lots of people around him. One comes, everyone comes. It can get scary, and he’s kind of too cranky and tired to keep flashing his idol smile for the next few hours.
The fellow commuters don’t do anything else but stare at him, though. When it finally sinks in that his neck is chainless and he doesn’t see his assailant anymore, he goes on panic mode and sprints his way after the man. His number 8 is way more important than a subway.
“Robbery!” he cries in sheer panic as he pushes past people who cry in annoyance and curse after him. “Stop the robber!” Surely someone has to pay attention to him, he looked suspicious at least, running away like a guilty madman… And surely there has to be some fans of his willing to lend a hand.
When he makes his way up the stairs, he sees the man rushing outside in the rain. His heart is pounding in his chest painfully - it has to be the identity thief from the news. The identity thief who’s holding his self in his hand, his number, himself. He screams at the people around him to stop the man but no one reacts - some look confused but don’t get the time to react. He feels helpless, weak and naked.
Tokyo is a large city and Kame loses sight of the man within seconds once he makes it outside. He pants as he finally stops and takes support on his bent knees. People slowly withdraw from him, eyeing him strangely. Kame looks up at them, feeling a lump in his throat. His sunglasses drop to the ground with a clash.
He feels cornered. He clasps his jacket where his number plate used to rest. The city is cold and water runs down his neck to his back, tickling him. People’s eyes avert and they start walking past him again. Some people ignore him to the point of walking into him and Kame falls to the ground, still panting. He shivers in the rain and tries to get up on his feet - the last thing he needs is paparazzi pictures right now. He has to get away.
He tries to hide the loss of his number plate, but no one seems to buy it. People look at him briefly with a superior glance and dismiss him right away. It’s painful. Nothing’s changed, he tries to tell himself as he shivers, still in panic. Everything is going to be alright. Everything is alright. Nothing’s changed. Nothing at all.
He’s still himself and no one can take that away from him. Identity isn’t something that someone can snatch just like that, it isn’t something that can be stolen. No one can copy him or be him. There isn’t a person in the world who can override everything he’s become in the 23 years of his life.
He feels hollow though, as if his self would be slipping away. He doesn’t dare to call the police before discussing the issue with Johnny - he doesn’t want the word to start circulating, he doesn’t want to cause trouble. He just wants everything to get fixed all hush-hush and get back to work.
He leans against his apartment’s door, breathing heavily. He doesn’t feel like he’s getting enough oxygen.
He slides down to the floor and trembles as Ran-chan happily pads her way to him, whining hungrily and worriedly. The dog rests her head on Kame’s neck and her cold nose sniffs Kame’s ear. The world is spinning.
For a moment he kind of does forget who he is.
2007
“What do you want from your future, Kamenashi?” Johnny asks him with a serious voice one day. Kame’s hands are sweating nervously as he sits across the old man in his showy office. It’s still early and the sky is painted with warm colours of orange, yellow and red behind the man’s back. Kame removes his stare from the window and looks at his employer, heart thumping loudly.
No matter how many years he works here or how successful he becomes, he still feels like that awkward teenaged boy sitting across this man, waiting for reproaches and important decisions about his future. Perhaps it’s part of the picture.
“What do you mean, sir?” Kame tries to avoid the question, unsure of how to answer. He thinks about the question often himself but nothing pops into his head right now. He just wants this, that he does know. This is good.
“KAT-TUN’s been very successful, hasn’t it?” Johnny tries to help him ease up a little with appraisals and a supporting smile. He’s not in trouble, then. That’s good, he can rule that out. “You too. You haven’t acted in a drama this year, though, other than that small part in Tanaka’s.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” Kame bows his head quickly, not sure if he’s getting scolded after all. He did attend auditions, he just didn’t pass them. It’s his fault. This year just wasn’t good. He’s had a lot on his mind.
“Last year was really tiring for you, wasn’t it?” Johnny continues. Kame nods, affirming. “How do you feel about acting? Do you want to focus on it in the future or is there something else you would like to pursue?”
“I love acting,” Kame admits honestly and feels a nervous shiver running up his spine. “I think it might be the thing I like doing the most. If it’s possible, I would like to keep having dramas, even with all the work with KAT-TUN.”
Johnny nods and writes something down on the paper before him. Kame gulps, starting to think comically that this whole situation reminds him of a psychiatrist’s appointment. He’s had a few of those for stress, nothing regular or necessary but still.
“But you would like to pursue KAT-TUN actively as well?” Johnny checks with him. Kame nods determinately, sure of his choices. Maybe this isn’t so difficult after all. Not if he knows himself inside out. The thought makes him quite happy. “Alright, we’ll see how the schedules go. What about Dream Boys?”
“It’s challenging,” Kame admits. “But I enjoy it greatly. The staff is always amazing and it’s very different from what I usually get to do so if it’s possible I would like to keep continuing with it for now.” He loves it. The complexity in singing, dancing and acting a part all at the same time, being flown around with wires and learning to look graceful and in control of his body. Learning to be in control of his body. It requires months of work but it’s definitely worth it.
“And your image?” Johnny prompts him while scribbling down notes. “Fanservice has proven to be very successful when it comes to you, I don’t think you should drop it. However, now that Akanishi has returned we do have to discuss this.”
Childhood memories flash in front of Kame’s eyes. Cute approaches and encounters between Jin and him on stage, all the kissy photographs and interviews where they made sure to talk warmly about each other. He swallows a lump that threatens to rise in his throat.
“I think Tanaka is fine,” Kame says with a steady voice. “Our teamwork has been very smooth and it feels comfortable. I think our images are a fascinating match too.”
“Alright,” Johnny nods and smiles up at him warmly. “So, how are things between you and Akanishi?”
“Huh?” Kame mumbles dumbly, taken aback by the question. His hands are getting sweaty again and he’s kind of scared of what Johnny means with his words. Maybe he knows that they’ve been getting this distance between them again and maybe he thinks it’ll affect their work performance. It doesn’t. They’re fine with each other, Cartoon KAT-TUN should prove it already. Nothing shows. They might sometimes struggle to work smoothly, but other than that they’re fine. Sometimes people just grow apart.
“He’s back now, it must be a relief, isn’t it? Missing a second lead vocalist put a lot of strain on you.” Yes, but it put more pressure on Ueda, Kame thinks. Everyone had to fight to make their single as good as possible back when they were working on it and Ueda got a lot more responsibility than before. He’s the one who deserves the praise. “Is he welcomed back?”
“Yes,” Kame nods. “We’re a lot better working whole again. I hope we won’t disappoint you.” He means it. It’s a little fear that keeps lurking around, one he’s very conscious of. But things really have been going well and he’s feeling positive about his career, about KAT-TUN.
“I have faith in you,” Johnny nods with a smile that makes him look a couple of decades younger. The words stir a proud feeling that swells in Kame’s chest. When he joined Johnny’s Entertainment it was because his mother had pushed him into it. He was just a boy with an immense love for baseball. He didn’t want to give up on it for way too many years, but now he’s happy about his decision. This is what he loves.
KAT-TUN might very well be the best thing that ever happened to him.
“What do you mean I don’t have access inside?” Kame mumbles disbelievingly to the doorman in front of the studio. “I’m Kamenashi Kazuya from KAT-TUN. I work here!”
“No access. I’m sorry sir, but I’m required to ask you to leave. Don’t make me call the cops on you,” the doorman bows but his expression is persistent - he isn’t going to budge. Kame feels dumbfounded. This can’t be happening.
“I come here almost every day of the week,” he whispers out weakly. “Look, I’ve got to get in. I’ve got work, we’ll both get in trouble. Just let me in.”
“No can do,” the man apologizes and motions for him to step aside. “I’d suggest you leave now. No ID, no entrance.”
“I got mugged!” Kame cries and falls on his knees to bow down deep. He doesn’t remember the last time he did this - probably in some drama, he doesn’t have a habit of getting himself in trouble where he needs to bow down this deep to apologize. “Please. Please. Just let me in, I’ll sort it out with Johnny-”
The guard is starting to look seriously pissed by now. “You’ve got five seconds to back away, sir. After that I’m required to report this to the police. This isn’t public area.”
Kame bites his knuckles and steps away, nearing tears. This can’t be happening. He backs away to the street, eyeing the guard with a hurt and angry expression and fishes his mobile from his pocket with shaky fingers.
Before he can press the dial, someone bumps into him and makes him drop the device in a lingering pool of water. Kame nearly loses his balance but manages to keep himself on his feet. He turns around and sees -
“Koki,” he exhales in relief and jumps to hug his friend. It feels like all the weight is coming crashing down on him. “Oh god, I missed you.”
Koki backs away suspiciously - Kame has to admit he doesn’t always show his affection as openly, especially on the streets. Today just happens to be a really bad day.
“Tell the guard to let me in,” he gulps. “My number plate got stolen and I-”
Koki’s eyes drop to his chest, taking in the missing accessory. He frowns and looks up at Kame and the look in his eyes changes to pity. Kame’s heart starts drumming in his chest. But it’s Koki. Koki’s been his shoulder to lean on pretty much ever since Jin started distancing himself from him. There’d been a moment of confusion upon Jin’s return when Jin had warmed up slightly to Kame again, but then the awkwardness between them had grown back to the current norm and they’d drifted apart again. Koki stood beside him to support him all the while.
“Oh come on,” he mumbles disbelievingly. “Don’t give me that look. It’s just a number! It’s not like everybody here wouldn’t know it already!”
Koki shrugs without properly looking him in the eyes anymore and starts going up the steps to the doors. Kame doesn’t believe his eyes. The whole situation is absurdly surreal. His number is gone and now Koki’s turning his back to him as well as if he weren’t the exact same Kamenashi Kazuya he’s always been.
“Koki?!” he yells after his friend sharply. “You can’t just leave me-!”
But he does. Kame curses, picks up his phone from the pavement and tries to wipe it dry with his shirt, panic starting to take over him again. This can’t be happening. This is ridiculous. Seriously ridiculous. He doesn’t get people anymore, they can’t be such hypocrites. He wouldn’t ever have abandoned a friend, ever, the fuck…
Jin flashes in his mind. A lone figure sitting in front of the building with a cigarette clinging to his lips, pale, sickly and exhausted. A bandmate everyone abandoned in a matter of seconds, someone no one reached a hand for.
His phone doesn’t work. He shakes his head and curses before throwing the mobile on the ground in a fit of anger. The battery comes out and gets wet. He doesn’t dare to touch it anymore.
2007
Nakamaru has his hands tucked into the pockets of his woollen winter jacket. It’s been silent between them for a long while now but it isn’t entirely comfortable. Their breaths mist in the air and Kame’s hiding his face under the warmth of his scarf. Nakamaru’s nose, that everyone finds rather large, is turning red.
They make their way into an expensive restaurant for dinner. Kame’s been here before on several occasions with a scattered variety of friends but this is the first time he’s bringing Nakamaru here, because he has a feeling that the man might appreciate the food and wine selection and they might find a common interest here.
They order their appetizers and meals and let the waiter recommend them wines to go along with their selections before it’s just the two of them again. Nakamaru’s wearing one of his argyle sweaters again with his number plate neatly attached to his chest with a pin and Kame’s clad in a crisp white shirt because the restaurant is rather high-class and he doesn’t want to stand out in a bad way.
They make their way through the appetizers enjoying relaxing chitchat about work and common friends. They talk about Ueda’s boxing training and sports, mainly football and baseball although the conversations are rather one-sided, and a TV drama they’ve both been following.
They haven’t really had much free time to go out together in a long time and Kame appreciates the occasion. Sometimes the whole band goes out for dinner or drinks but other than that they hardly see each other off work. Most of them agree that it’s a good thing, though - they put up with each other enough every day already, no need to increase the amount and end up fighting most of the time. They can fight over such stupid things. Kame wonders if they somewhere along the way forgot to grow up, no matter how mature they feel every now and then.
“How are things between you and Jin?” Nakamaru asks all of a sudden when they’re halfway through their main course. Kame chews deliberately on his creamy spaghetti and lets the taste of wine in the sauce spread over his tongue.
“I don’t know,” he finally admits. People don’t really ask him this question often, sometimes people give him odd looks that concern him but he isn’t really sure why. Maybe they’re worried for the band. Sometimes he’s worried about their relationship too. They’d better not be a ticking time bomb.
“Haven’t you talked with him?” Nakamaru urges him on, guiding salad to his mouth with his fork. Kame shakes his head. No, not really, they haven’t. “Don’t you think you should talk it out?”
“I think we’re fine, there isn’t really anything to sort out,” Kame answers slowly, thinking about his answers. “We just grew apart. It happens to people. It’s not like we hate each other’s guts. Or are you hinting at something?” he chuckles with a playful smirk, fork resting teasingly on his lower lip. “You’re a close friend of his, aren’t you?”
Nakamaru sweats a little at that. “Well, that’s relative, I don’t really know with him. We do spend time off work and talk sometimes about personal things but I don’t really know how he’s with his other friends.”
“But you have talked something,” Kame notes and takes a small sip of his wine. Almost a bottle down now. It’s a good thing neither of them is driving home. “So?”
“I just think you’ve never properly talked about things,” Nakamaru says genuinely. He sounds slightly concerned and he looks Kame straight in the eyes. He’s serious then, huh. “A little talk wouldn’t hurt, would it? Going through some stuff, what you think about each other, things like that.”
“It’s not like we don’t talk,” Kame grimaces. “He could talk to me if he wanted to. But it just started becoming really awkward again, you know?” he tries to justify their separation. “We’re not alike anymore. I’ve matured, I’m not that silly child who was his best friend anymore.”
“If you just talked,” Nakamaru still tries hesitantly, a frown on his face.
“I’ve actually decided to give up on him,” Kame admits with a nod and eats neatly another forkful of his pasta. “It’s about time to let go. The memories are good but it’s about time we accepted the present situation.” He smiles a little as he looks back at Nakamaru. “We get along fine, don’t worry. It’s just that that’s it. And it’s alright.”
“If you say so,” Nakamaru sighs in defeat and reaches for his wine glass. Kame looks at the lamp hanging from the ceiling and wipes his mouth with his napkin, feeling squeamish on his seat. It’s another thing to think about it than to say it aloud. Now, though…
He feels like he can finally bid farewell to the most beautiful friendship of his youth.
Jin opens his door ajar with an apathetic look in his eyes. Kame shivers, soaked in the pouring rain. His hair clings to his forehead and his teeth clatter as he stares at Jin helplessly, eyes bloodshot and insides disgustingly hollow.
Jin’s eyes slowly trace Kame’s neck and chest, taking in the missing presence of Kame’s self. He opens the door more and lets Kame in without a further word. He looks exhausted and sad as he stands beside Kame, waiting for him to remove his shoes before leading him to the bathroom where he gives him a soft towel picturing a woman on her knees, large breasts exposed. Kame wraps it around himself thankfully and hiccups.
“I didn’t know where else to go,” he mumbles speedily. Jin nods and scratches his nose - that’s still normal. Just like always. It nearly pushes Kame into tears again. Scary.
“I’ve never felt so empty,” he whispers with a broken voice. Jin doesn’t hesitate when he wraps his arms around him and pulls him close, burying his face in the crook of Kame’s neck. He understands. Some people out there might understand too, but no one else they would know.
Jin must’ve been painfully lonely. The guilt clings to Kame like a tumour. He tries not to breathe in Jin’s overgrown hair and choke on it as he returns the embrace. He feels like a little child afraid of monsters in the dark.
“We’re never nothing,” Jin whispers to him, his fingers clenching the towel on Kame’s back. “I’ll never become nothing.” Almost reassuring. Almost.
It’s like a chime Jin has kept repeating to himself over and over again, something that has started to lose its meaning with every repeat. Jin feels nearly like nothing at all in Kame’s arms. He’s not the person he used to be, he isn’t the Jin with the billion watt smile, determination to be himself and silly teenage behaviour.
Jin is nothing, as simple as that. And, quickly, Kame is turning into nothing at all as well. He can feel it spreading like a disease, fuelled by everyone around him, KAT-TUN’s remaining members, even people he doesn’t know… everyone.
Jin’s lips press against his. Kame gasps and freezes in the man’s hold. His hands drop to his sides and he yanks his head away. Jin pants as he looks him in the eyes. Kame gulps and takes a few steps back, alarmed.
“What the fuck, Jin?” he whispers numbly and shakes his head disbelievingly.
Jin’s gaze averts. He looks away and scratches his nose again, wet splotches on his hoodie.
Kame’s thought they were over this already many, many years ago.
“Leave,” he commands and the blood in Kame’s veins freezes. What.
“Jin, the fuck,” he repeats more shortly and stares at the man, starting to grow annoyed. Jin’s eyes flash - embarrassment, fury, disappointment, whatever. It’s more than he’s shown in front of Kame for several years now. They aren’t the best friends they used to be.
He lets out a bloodcurdling scream as Jin grabs a painful hold of him and starts to wrestle him towards the foyer. Jin’s arms are strong and Kame’s struggle seems pointless and he finally changes his tactics and instead tries to cling onto the man in panic.
“You can’t do this,” he splutters in panic, voice hoarse and breathy. “You can’t fucking do this, Jin! YOU CAN’T FUCKING DO THIS!”
“Don’t come here anymore,” Jin spits at him poisonously as he throws him out the door and kicks his shoes after him. “Stay the fuck away, Kamenashi.”
“JIN!” Kame screams and makes a lunge for it, but Jin’s door is already closed. He bangs against the door with his fist and tries the handle. “Jin, I’ve got nowhere else to go! You can’t just throw me out! Open the door!”
No answer. Kame waits hopefully but no. Seconds start turning into minutes. He knocks again.
“Jin, let’s talk about this,” he tries another approach with a shaky voice. Even he himself doesn’t believe in any chances of lulling Jin out of his shell anymore. “Jin, please. We’re friends. O-open the door. Please.”
Not that Jin really has any reason to open the door. Why is he even here? Why did Jin even let him in? Because they’re companions. Rejects, social outcast, even more so than anyone else. They’re each other’s last hope to hold on to anything. Last option.
“Please,” he tries again, pushing the handle down. The door remains locked. He wonders how messed up Jin is by now and the thought makes him shiver.
He admits defeat and picks up his shoes in his hands as he starts walking away in the rain. The towel had dropped sometime during the struggle - no use of that either then. He’s wet and cold and alone as he makes his way to the streets.
What now? He doesn’t know.
He wishes he did. Not knowing makes him wonder if he knows himself at all anymore.
PART 2