(no subject)
For bluebirdsongs, just because. (Tori, I started this the moment we finished texting that day, but I've been busy and then it started to lose relevance.. so I just let it do this, and idek, it's late ;; but I hope you like it. or something. ;;)
If Jin could go back and redo today, he would start with ten seconds ago. If Jin could, he'd go back to this morning and those stupid passes of his finger over the smeared touchscreen; Last night, when sleep clogged his brain-to-mouth filter; Three days ago with his lips on Kame's neck and all the wrong words against his skin; Three weeks ago and the email he chose not to ignore.
"I'm sorry," Jin blurts into his left hand while his phone is in the right, still lit up from him cutting off the call. "I didn't mean.." It had just been shock. Four days until his flight and Kame on the end of the line with grave words about changes of hours, and all Jin had heard was the familiar voice of his own mind, 'it's all going wrong'.
Jin has to dab at his eyes with a sleeve before he can clearly see to hit Kame's contact details again. He's not sure any words got out - a simple 'no' - or if all Kame had heard on the other end of his call was Jin scrabbling to hang up, choking up. Fucking up, like usual. It's something of a weighted relief when Kame's phone goes unanswered.
"Kazu, I'm sorry, I didn't think-- I mean, I thought too fast, I just.. I'm so sorry," Jin blubbers, then hangs up again. Shit.
For the following three hours Jin's phone remains within reach. He remembers leaving four messages, words slower and sadder. "I'm on my way home now, Kazu. I don't know if you'll get this message, there were.. uhmm, I don't know how many I'm on now.
I'm still sorry. I shouldn't have.. I was just scared, y'know? I know that's not an excuse. You must have been, too. Ah.." Jin scrubs at his hair in frustration as he exits the building, "I've said all this stuff already. I'll.. I'll be home soon. Looks like it's going to rain.."
It's growing darker and darker as Jin stuffs his hands in his pockets and makes a dash for the subway (scuffing his shoes because he doesn't run, but he needs to run and so it's fast, stupid shuffling), his mood as dark as the clouds rolling in overhead.
Forty minutes later, outside their apartment door, Jin drops his keys. Damp has softened his hair and clings to his clothing, seeps beneath his skin into the aches at his joints, and he wants today to not be today.
"Tadaima," he calls under his breath. Silence, other than his shoes squeaking against each other as he treads and toes them off. The fact the lights are dim is promising - Kame's been alert enough to want ambiance. Jin hopes it's not the kind of ambiance in which Kame sits stern and shadowed with a glass of wine in one hand and Jin's heart squeezed in the other.
Jin steels himself before calling out again. "Ka--" he starts, but then steps further down the hallway and the Kame-shaped lump on the couch comes into view. He's under a blanket with one foot sticking clear out and an arm twisted awkwardly into a makeshift pillow; Jin wonders more from concern than cowardice if just carrying Kame to bed would be the best course of action. No long talks about how Jin's immature and overemotional (and can't actually physically technically blame hormones however much he protests) would be a bonus.
"..in?" Kame stirs, frowning. His nose is smushed into the crook of his elbow and he's not sure how long Jin's been looming over him for. Or when Jin got in. Or when that minute's rest between checking his phone and papers turned into a nap. "Must have dozed off.. How was work~?"
"Uh." Jin's been so ready for so long that the question catches him off guard. He can't remember a moment of his day that hasn't involved desperate phone calls and his stomach rolling with dread. "It.. yeah. You?"
"Mm~"
Kame doesn't seem angry or upset. Jin only worries more.
For a moment, just a moment, Jin manages to hold his tongue. He obligingly joins Kame on the couch after he's squirmed to make room, and he does the best he can to soften up and be more a pillow than a rock. Then, "I'm sorry," blurted against Kame's hair. "Earlier."
"Earlier.." Kame repeats after a pause, eyes closed and cheek mashed against Jin's shoulder. "Oh, yeah.. 's your phone ok? It sounded like you dropped it.
..Jin? 's ok.. We can get you a new one."
Jin mentally fumbles for a response beyond, 'huh?'. He settles for: "Oh." "Oh, no.. No, it's fine. I meant.. my messages, I really.."
"Ah." Kame says thoughtfully. "I wanted to talk to you about those."
Jin's stomach is in knots that only Kame's small fingers can work loose, but Kame's taking his time, agonizing moment after moment. That's right, Jin thinks woefully, and then thinks harder as to how fathomless his capacity for guilt is.
Then Kame peels his face from Jin's shoulder, and Jin inhales sharply as their eyes meet. Kame's are drooping, full of no threat but of sleep.
"I don't know how to check my voicemail."
If Jin could go back and redo today, he would start with ten seconds ago. If Jin could, he'd go back to this morning and those stupid passes of his finger over the smeared touchscreen; Last night, when sleep clogged his brain-to-mouth filter; Three days ago with his lips on Kame's neck and all the wrong words against his skin; Three weeks ago and the email he chose not to ignore.
"I'm sorry," Jin blurts into his left hand while his phone is in the right, still lit up from him cutting off the call. "I didn't mean.." It had just been shock. Four days until his flight and Kame on the end of the line with grave words about changes of hours, and all Jin had heard was the familiar voice of his own mind, 'it's all going wrong'.
Jin has to dab at his eyes with a sleeve before he can clearly see to hit Kame's contact details again. He's not sure any words got out - a simple 'no' - or if all Kame had heard on the other end of his call was Jin scrabbling to hang up, choking up. Fucking up, like usual. It's something of a weighted relief when Kame's phone goes unanswered.
"Kazu, I'm sorry, I didn't think-- I mean, I thought too fast, I just.. I'm so sorry," Jin blubbers, then hangs up again. Shit.
For the following three hours Jin's phone remains within reach. He remembers leaving four messages, words slower and sadder. "I'm on my way home now, Kazu. I don't know if you'll get this message, there were.. uhmm, I don't know how many I'm on now.
I'm still sorry. I shouldn't have.. I was just scared, y'know? I know that's not an excuse. You must have been, too. Ah.." Jin scrubs at his hair in frustration as he exits the building, "I've said all this stuff already. I'll.. I'll be home soon. Looks like it's going to rain.."
It's growing darker and darker as Jin stuffs his hands in his pockets and makes a dash for the subway (scuffing his shoes because he doesn't run, but he needs to run and so it's fast, stupid shuffling), his mood as dark as the clouds rolling in overhead.
Forty minutes later, outside their apartment door, Jin drops his keys. Damp has softened his hair and clings to his clothing, seeps beneath his skin into the aches at his joints, and he wants today to not be today.
"Tadaima," he calls under his breath. Silence, other than his shoes squeaking against each other as he treads and toes them off. The fact the lights are dim is promising - Kame's been alert enough to want ambiance. Jin hopes it's not the kind of ambiance in which Kame sits stern and shadowed with a glass of wine in one hand and Jin's heart squeezed in the other.
Jin steels himself before calling out again. "Ka--" he starts, but then steps further down the hallway and the Kame-shaped lump on the couch comes into view. He's under a blanket with one foot sticking clear out and an arm twisted awkwardly into a makeshift pillow; Jin wonders more from concern than cowardice if just carrying Kame to bed would be the best course of action. No long talks about how Jin's immature and overemotional (and can't actually physically technically blame hormones however much he protests) would be a bonus.
"..in?" Kame stirs, frowning. His nose is smushed into the crook of his elbow and he's not sure how long Jin's been looming over him for. Or when Jin got in. Or when that minute's rest between checking his phone and papers turned into a nap. "Must have dozed off.. How was work~?"
"Uh." Jin's been so ready for so long that the question catches him off guard. He can't remember a moment of his day that hasn't involved desperate phone calls and his stomach rolling with dread. "It.. yeah. You?"
"Mm~"
Kame doesn't seem angry or upset. Jin only worries more.
For a moment, just a moment, Jin manages to hold his tongue. He obligingly joins Kame on the couch after he's squirmed to make room, and he does the best he can to soften up and be more a pillow than a rock. Then, "I'm sorry," blurted against Kame's hair. "Earlier."
"Earlier.." Kame repeats after a pause, eyes closed and cheek mashed against Jin's shoulder. "Oh, yeah.. 's your phone ok? It sounded like you dropped it.
..Jin? 's ok.. We can get you a new one."
Jin mentally fumbles for a response beyond, 'huh?'. He settles for: "Oh." "Oh, no.. No, it's fine. I meant.. my messages, I really.."
"Ah." Kame says thoughtfully. "I wanted to talk to you about those."
Jin's stomach is in knots that only Kame's small fingers can work loose, but Kame's taking his time, agonizing moment after moment. That's right, Jin thinks woefully, and then thinks harder as to how fathomless his capacity for guilt is.
Then Kame peels his face from Jin's shoulder, and Jin inhales sharply as their eyes meet. Kame's are drooping, full of no threat but of sleep.
"I don't know how to check my voicemail."