fic: Sync

Oct 06, 2011 23:26

Title: Sync
Author: prologuesized
Beta: pinkeuphoria1
Pairing: Jin/Kame
Rating: PG
Genre: AU, Angst, General
Notes: I was bored and I wanted to do something short. Yuppie. I don’t even know.
Word count: 1,000

Summary: Jin makes a doll. The doll has emotions.


They’re going to cut the electricity this week, they warned on a formal, polite yet entirely bitchy sheet of paper filled with instructions to pay the bill online. He should probably do something about that, he contemplates absently as he twists the metal wire with his hands. The wire doesn’t resist much even though it’s the thicker type than the usual one, meant for purposes a bit tougher than children’s play. It gleams softly under the still illuminated simple round lamp attached to the ceiling. The light the lamp casts is white, very artificially so. It kind of makes things look ugly. Jin fancies things at the verge of ugly, though, so he doesn’t mind.

His creation is finally starting to resemble a human being. He’s nearly finished now, working on the basic skeleton he’s constructed out of iron wire. He’s twisting the wire in spirals to form fingers on the lonely, unmoving hand. The figure is stiff, and it wobbles helplessly when Jin touches it, unsteady on its feet. It’s a tiny bit shorter than him, a few centimetres or so, but otherwise a full-size silhouette. Jin prefers him contemporary.

He rips out a carton packet of sparklers he’d had on the floor, takes its contents all in one hand before digging out his zippo lighter from the pocket of his oversized, faded jeans. The flame flickers and burns in a warm shade of orange as he sets the sparklers going and one by one slips them inside the metal web of the figure’s chest in front of him. They should keep him warm, he hums to himself contently.

He takes the fiercely sizzling figure in his hands and carries him to his second work room, dips him gently in the large rectangular metal bucket filled with hot, molten wax and rubs his hands together nervously. The iron skeleton sinks under the liquid wax as he pushes it gently with metal sticks. He prods the knees, chest and head, feeling giddily expectant and excited.

This particular work has been in-progress for several months already. He’s been precise with the design, having sketched his plans over and over until stacks of paper had flooded his desk and he had figured out what it was that he actually wanted. Surprisingly enough, never once did he feel frustrated, though. It’s been like some odd, deep self-search. Some people take a trip to a jungle crowded with deadly beasts and reptiles to experience that kind of thing. He, on another hand, embraces inspiration.

This is why he has decided to name him Kazuya, the peaceful one. He’s found harmony when carefully embodying him, twisting wires and shaping him with his callused fingers. He’s going to breathe, Jin knows. He’s going to burn hot, warm and joyous like a firework, and engage the world.

He pays his bills and has a ready-made noodle meal from the freezer before collapsing on the couch in the wax room. Six months later he’s ready with cutting out the extra wax, smoothing the firm skin of his doll and painting its features alive, every detail added with love and care.

Kazuya blinks his eyes. He’s soft and peaceful like the name he carries as he sits on the ground with his knees bent, a sad look morphed onto his youthful face. His cheeks are full and eyes soft but narrow. His nose is crooked in a quirky way. Jin’s signature, a miniscule mole right beside his eye, like his own, makes the unfortunate doll look even sadder than what he is.

“What’s wrong?” he murmurs softly as he brushes back the dark brown hair from the doll’s face and dresses him up in comfortable clothes, a striped cardigan bringing out the cautiously painted colour of his eyes. Kazuya’s lips are pouty and his eyelids flutter slowly, more often than any real person Jin has ever come across. Jin presses a finger over the doll’s lips and hushes him, eyes half-lidded tenderly. Kazuya doesn’t speak to him.

When he presses the palm of his hand against Kazuya’s chest, Kazuya closes his eyes and leans forward to rest against the steady pressure. There’s a soft and hot tingling of the fireworks inside of him, burning away but never out. Jin smiles at him and his smile is met - imitated. Kazuya’s fingers bend as Jin examines them.

A year later, Kazuya speaks. “I’m sad,” he tells with a mournful voice as he stands next to Jin’s bedpost, peering down at his groggy form. “It’s sad being a doll.”

He climbs in on top of Jin, nuzzles against him and trembles like a lost little child. Jin threads his fingers through the dark hair in an attempt to comfort him and presses a light kiss to his forehead. Kazuya doesn’t leave that night. He loves the bedcovers over him, Jin notes absently, loves to spend days just sitting there with the duvet wrapped around him to keep him warm.

Kazuya sits still and composed as the lights flash in the gallery. He’s sharper, brighter and more withdrawn with each passing day, caged inside his metal frame. There are loud, fancying, curious and critical viewers who feel intrigued by his presence, whether it’s a positive emotion or not. Kazuya feels like a doll.

There are offers. The papers have numbers with some millions, for a strange reason. Kazuya sits beside him as he flips through the offers with a stern look on his unimpressed face. “It’s stupid how they want to buy you,” he barks at Kazuya. He’s angered, face steadily reddening from the badly suppressed outburst. “This isn’t some black market for humans.”

He rejects them all and keeps Kazuya to himself. Ten years or so later, Kazuya smiles. The paint is peeling off here and there, and he’s got a few dents as reminders of his clumsier years, but his smile flushes it all away in Jin’s eyes.

“Thank you,” Kazuya says. Jin doesn’t really know why. He wonders if he ever will, so he resorts to just mirroring the curve of the doll’s lips and nodding. Some things, he ponders, never quite have an explanation. Maybe Kazuya’s just finally found his harmony

pairing: jin/kame, genre: general, rating: pg, genre: au, format: one-shot, genre: angst

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