Glass Jar
Kame goes to work the following day, clothes immaculate and hair perfect, and greets everyone with a polite smile and vacant eyes. Junno makes his usual jokes and Kame still laughs, but everything comes out a little bit more strained and T-TUN worries. But there isn’t anything they can do, because the last time Kame asked for help was before he collapsed backstage from exhaustion.
Nakamaru invites him to karaoke before they leave for work, and Kame agrees, because there is nothing waiting for him at home and somehow, Kame thinks, there never really was.
He sits between Ueda and Koki, hands in his lap as he stares into the screen, colorful words swimming by, and quietly waits. When Maru finishes, he hands the microphone to him and nods, smiling and Kame can see that he’s really trying. Kame smiles back and he hears Kizuna play. It reminds him of Gokusen and the matching ring Jin gave him, reminds him of the last time he felt Jin’s lips against his own and the last time they called each other something other than Akanishi and Kamenashi.
He wants to go back, back to Hayato and Ryu, back to Akame and spending nights on the beach and pretending they knew what they were doing, where they were going. Back to catching fireflies in glass jars that made their faces glow in the dark, quiet night. Jin’s face that glowed from the satisfaction of making Kame smile before he reached across the grass to take Kame’s hand in his own. Fingers that made him feel like he belonged, like there was no other place that he could possibly be. And it was okay that they had practice the next morning, because Jin was going to be there. It was okay because they were together.
They bid their good-byes and Kame takes a taxi back to his apartment, sliding into the leather seats and pressing his forehead against the cold window. Little clouds form on the clear glass when he breathes, and he lifts a finger to draw a big “x” and eventually rubs the whole thing away with his knuckles. The car comes to a red light and Kame stares out into the busy streets, blinded by the night lights of the stores. A group of friends pass by, laughing and telling jokes and the pit of Kame’s stomach turns and he feels very alone. Even if he has hundreds of phones numbers in his phone, none of them matter because he can’t call the one he wants, can’t text to ask how he is or what he’s doing. He’d be reminding Jin of what he purposely left behind, why he went to LA. It’s a fight he can’t win, and no matter how much he wants to tell Jin that he needs him, he can’t. He won’t.
Kame enters his apartment and slips off his shoes, stepping into the dark emptiness and sits down on the couch in the living room. He doesn’t bother switching on the lights. Maybe if it’s dark enough, he can pretend Jin is there with him, sitting next to him in baggy sweatpants and watching T.V.
“Kame~, pass me the remote,” he can almost hear him say, “And I’ve missed you.”
He closes his eyes and imagines the warm smile on Jin’s face, a genuine smile unlike any he gives the fangirls, a smile that he saves for only Kame. With eyes closed, he reaches out with trembling fingers and grasps at nothing but cold air. He stares at the empty space next to him until he feels the tears roll off his face, soon turning into sobs that he can’t control. Pulling his legs to his chest, Kame positions his eyes on his knees and feels his clothes dampen. When it subsides, he wipes messily at his nose and goes to sleep where Jin’s lap would be, clutching the pillows close and hoping they will be enough to compensate. But they never are and he knows that.
Kame wakes up knowing that it’s not normal being this tired all the time. He sits up and his entire body aches, from what he can’t say, but all he knows is that it hurts to even look around. His head is throbbing and his lips are cracked and dry. He licks at them before he reaches for his phone to call in sick. Send Johnny if they want, suddenly he doesn’t have the energy to drag himself to work and pretend everything is fine. He can’t manage and they won’t be getting any meaningless smiles from him today.
A/N
I don't know if this is another chapter of This Thing Called Love or a one short or a new story.
Nakamaru invites him to karaoke before they leave for work, and Kame agrees, because there is nothing waiting for him at home and somehow, Kame thinks, there never really was.
He sits between Ueda and Koki, hands in his lap as he stares into the screen, colorful words swimming by, and quietly waits. When Maru finishes, he hands the microphone to him and nods, smiling and Kame can see that he’s really trying. Kame smiles back and he hears Kizuna play. It reminds him of Gokusen and the matching ring Jin gave him, reminds him of the last time he felt Jin’s lips against his own and the last time they called each other something other than Akanishi and Kamenashi.
He wants to go back, back to Hayato and Ryu, back to Akame and spending nights on the beach and pretending they knew what they were doing, where they were going. Back to catching fireflies in glass jars that made their faces glow in the dark, quiet night. Jin’s face that glowed from the satisfaction of making Kame smile before he reached across the grass to take Kame’s hand in his own. Fingers that made him feel like he belonged, like there was no other place that he could possibly be. And it was okay that they had practice the next morning, because Jin was going to be there. It was okay because they were together.
They bid their good-byes and Kame takes a taxi back to his apartment, sliding into the leather seats and pressing his forehead against the cold window. Little clouds form on the clear glass when he breathes, and he lifts a finger to draw a big “x” and eventually rubs the whole thing away with his knuckles. The car comes to a red light and Kame stares out into the busy streets, blinded by the night lights of the stores. A group of friends pass by, laughing and telling jokes and the pit of Kame’s stomach turns and he feels very alone. Even if he has hundreds of phones numbers in his phone, none of them matter because he can’t call the one he wants, can’t text to ask how he is or what he’s doing. He’d be reminding Jin of what he purposely left behind, why he went to LA. It’s a fight he can’t win, and no matter how much he wants to tell Jin that he needs him, he can’t. He won’t.
Kame enters his apartment and slips off his shoes, stepping into the dark emptiness and sits down on the couch in the living room. He doesn’t bother switching on the lights. Maybe if it’s dark enough, he can pretend Jin is there with him, sitting next to him in baggy sweatpants and watching T.V.
“Kame~, pass me the remote,” he can almost hear him say, “And I’ve missed you.”
He closes his eyes and imagines the warm smile on Jin’s face, a genuine smile unlike any he gives the fangirls, a smile that he saves for only Kame. With eyes closed, he reaches out with trembling fingers and grasps at nothing but cold air. He stares at the empty space next to him until he feels the tears roll off his face, soon turning into sobs that he can’t control. Pulling his legs to his chest, Kame positions his eyes on his knees and feels his clothes dampen. When it subsides, he wipes messily at his nose and goes to sleep where Jin’s lap would be, clutching the pillows close and hoping they will be enough to compensate. But they never are and he knows that.
Kame wakes up knowing that it’s not normal being this tired all the time. He sits up and his entire body aches, from what he can’t say, but all he knows is that it hurts to even look around. His head is throbbing and his lips are cracked and dry. He licks at them before he reaches for his phone to call in sick. Send Johnny if they want, suddenly he doesn’t have the energy to drag himself to work and pretend everything is fine. He can’t manage and they won’t be getting any meaningless smiles from him today.
A/N
I don't know if this is another chapter of This Thing Called Love or a one short or a new story.