let's play a game.
survivors
victims
lilmatchgirl007
darkgloom
soundczech
acchikocchi
spurious
yamapea
unrequitedangst
panpipe
tretton
sollasollew11
razberrycreme
spiritdream
misao-duo
tinybars
pithetaphish
maya_morning
becroberts
anamuan
superlover
final word count: 12,321
next target: --
deadline: --
00. sakameko
Rain drums upon the roof of the car in accompaniment to the swish of windshield wipers, all rhythm and beat and the radio skipping from station to station. Jin shuffles through them mindlessly, hardly paying attention to the snatches of music or voices that start and stop and start again with each press of the button.
"Jin," Kame says in a tone that matches his tight grip on the wheel. This time of the year is always the hardest; concert preparation seems to bring out the worst in everyone. Planning sessions are tedious on good days and downright ugly on bad days. Rehearsals can be hellish-whenever a change is made to the choreography it takes fifty billion repetitions for everyone to get it down, and then it's changed again. It drives them all a little insane.
Jin sighs loudly before leaving the radio alone and switching the device to CD. He lets his back hit the seat while the light changes ahead, glowing green, and traffic rolls forward through the rain-slicked streets. The player whirs and Jin waits to find out what Kame has been listening to, half hoping for something embarrassing that he can tease him about. The intro that drifts through the speakers is instantly recognizable, and the embarrassment Jin was aiming for is reversed back upon him.
He slouches down and turns towards the window, seeing his reflection superimposed over the buildings and people outside. "Don't we listen to this album enough at work?" Practicing routines over and over, the same few bars for those same few steps that no one can get right.
"Turn it off then."
But Jin wants background noise of some kind so he lets it be. "Whatever," he says as the familiar chords of 'Care' fill the silence, although it's more awkward than reassuring. Crazy fangirls and their stupid demands...
"Kame?" Jin asks suddenly as the car splashes through a puddle by the curb. "Do you think I should have put a different song on the album?"
"What?" From the corner of his eye he sees a smile flit across Kame's lips. "Why? The fans love this old song."
"I know the fans love it." Jin rolls his eyes and scuffs his feet over the floor of the car, for some reason taking offense at the comment. Maybe the 'old' part. Or the flippancy. "And I know why. So do you."
"Then what's your problem with it?"
"I don't have a problem with it!" Jin twists around so he can glare properly at Kame's profile, getting warmed up. "But you-"
"Don't," Kame starts to say, but Jin talks over him because it's what he always does and finally Kame pins him with a fierce look. "Jin, I-"
And all of a sudden there are horns blaring and tires screeching and a bright light flooding their faces, washing out the hard, harsh lines of Kame's expression, and Jin reaches out instinctively while sight, sound, metal, and glass crash all around.
continued below...