so...
I don't know how many of you know this (or have likely figured it out), but I tend to write Akame (albeit badly) when I'm really stressed... Yeah. I don't know how to fix myself either.
This is literally titled "IT'S LIKE I NEVER LEARN" in my files. Also, I can't handle anything but fluff these days. SO WEAK OF HEART.
Jin still remembers the first time he kissed Kame.
He remembers leaning down to press Kame into the dressing room door, head still spinning with Kame’s smile and brash guitar riffs and black-and-white T-shirts and swirling, heady spotlights and Kame, Kame, Kame. His toes curled when Kame’s mouth fell open against his, words swallowed in the close distance between them, lips rough yet pliant, restless and tasting. He remembers shaking then, in both mirth and relief, the tension draining from his fingertips as he pulled Kame close and felt the faint beginning of baseball-strong muscles contract under his palms. He remembers dropping his head in close to the crook of Kame’s shoulder, feeling the rise and fall of Kame’s quiet whisper. Welcome home, Jin.
Jin speaks English on an almost daily basis now. He eats at Taco Bell and Gonpachi, and wears neon yellow sneakers instead of the sturdy black shoes the Jimusho has provided them with since Junior years. He listens to Nicki Minaj on the radio and hugs people on first sight.
He only wears that black-and-white T-shirt on days he spends curled up in the studio, face unshaven and sweatpants slung low as he taps his feet on the drum pedestal. He only sings Real Face when he’s tipsy enough to sway into the armrest of a couch in the karaoke room. He only, if ever, stars on the same stage with five people in his dreams.
He seemingly never talks about Kame.
When he returns to the dressing room, Kame is waiting, with a tiny, quirked smile. Jin has babbled nonsense for nearly half an hour, mostly in a language Kame just barely comprehends (apart from an unwavering infatuation for the red-and-white Union Jack). There’s sweat framing his brow and soaking the rim of his hat, and his legs feel droopy, like he’s a giant punching bag with the air pummeled out of him. Like if he relaxes, his knees will merely buckle underneath him and he’ll heap onto the ground in a pile of mush.
But Jin relaxes anyway, because there are baseball-strong muscles to hold him steady. He feels the press of lips against his own, familiar and open, and he lets his arms drop to close the push and pull of distance between them. He’s trembling with the thrill of a new year and maybe something more, and it’ll never be Sendai, nor will it ever be their first.
But Jin’s toes will always curl. And he’ll always wait for the words, whether breathed out or inaudible, Welcome home.
....Nothing else to see here. HAVE A GOOD WEEK.
ETA: unlocked for Saya. even though I'm embarrassed (refer to mood theme) T__________T
♥
This is literally titled "IT'S LIKE I NEVER LEARN" in my files. Also, I can't handle anything but fluff these days. SO WEAK OF HEART.
Jin still remembers the first time he kissed Kame.
He remembers leaning down to press Kame into the dressing room door, head still spinning with Kame’s smile and brash guitar riffs and black-and-white T-shirts and swirling, heady spotlights and Kame, Kame, Kame. His toes curled when Kame’s mouth fell open against his, words swallowed in the close distance between them, lips rough yet pliant, restless and tasting. He remembers shaking then, in both mirth and relief, the tension draining from his fingertips as he pulled Kame close and felt the faint beginning of baseball-strong muscles contract under his palms. He remembers dropping his head in close to the crook of Kame’s shoulder, feeling the rise and fall of Kame’s quiet whisper. Welcome home, Jin.
Jin speaks English on an almost daily basis now. He eats at Taco Bell and Gonpachi, and wears neon yellow sneakers instead of the sturdy black shoes the Jimusho has provided them with since Junior years. He listens to Nicki Minaj on the radio and hugs people on first sight.
He only wears that black-and-white T-shirt on days he spends curled up in the studio, face unshaven and sweatpants slung low as he taps his feet on the drum pedestal. He only sings Real Face when he’s tipsy enough to sway into the armrest of a couch in the karaoke room. He only, if ever, stars on the same stage with five people in his dreams.
He seemingly never talks about Kame.
When he returns to the dressing room, Kame is waiting, with a tiny, quirked smile. Jin has babbled nonsense for nearly half an hour, mostly in a language Kame just barely comprehends (apart from an unwavering infatuation for the red-and-white Union Jack). There’s sweat framing his brow and soaking the rim of his hat, and his legs feel droopy, like he’s a giant punching bag with the air pummeled out of him. Like if he relaxes, his knees will merely buckle underneath him and he’ll heap onto the ground in a pile of mush.
But Jin relaxes anyway, because there are baseball-strong muscles to hold him steady. He feels the press of lips against his own, familiar and open, and he lets his arms drop to close the push and pull of distance between them. He’s trembling with the thrill of a new year and maybe something more, and it’ll never be Sendai, nor will it ever be their first.
But Jin’s toes will always curl. And he’ll always wait for the words, whether breathed out or inaudible, Welcome home.
....Nothing else to see here. HAVE A GOOD WEEK.
ETA: unlocked for Saya. even though I'm embarrassed (refer to mood theme) T__________T
♥