[KAT-TUN] The Sun and the Air - part 1, PG, General/Romance, Akame
For among_the_lost because I missed her while she was in China and she's my own BNF in my little corner of fandom. ^.~ Feel better, Sarah. I am sorry you are sick.
The Sun and the Air [part 1]
KAT-TUN, Akame, PG, 2998 words
In which people say "hey" a lot, Jin reflects on friendship, and Kame goes shopping.
The Sun and the Air
by meitachi
one // ima sugu
“So,” said Ryo as sprawled across his king-size bed on his stomach, chin propped up on his folded arms. Dark eyes peered up through his long bangs, pinning Jin with a knowing, unapologetic stare, designed and successfully tested to make one Akanishi Jin squirm; it did no less today and Jin never knew whether or not he should be grateful or annoyed.
Annoyed, he thought, would be the way to go. “Stop that,” he said, throwing the pillow beside him at Ryo. He was cross-legged on the floor of Ryo’s bedroom, dressed down in a black long-sleeved shirt and a pair of comfortable, well-worn jeans. The uncomfortable, slightly guilty feeling that crawled from his stomach at his friend’s look was unsettling and not what Jin was looking for on one of his rare days off. Well, it had really been more like an afternoon off than an entire day, to be honest, but he took what he could get nowadays.
“You’re an idiot,” Ryo announced with a loud sigh as he rolled over onto his back. “I don’t know why I’m friends with such a moron.”
Jin scowled. “Shut up, Ryo.” He cast about for another pillow and settled for one of the tight-fitting, glittery shirts Ryo had strewn across his room haphazardly. The material was soft but scratchy and Jin watched in satisfaction as it arced through the air and landed neatly on Ryo’s face, prompting an undignified yelp.
“Bastard.”
“Asshole.”
“Why don’t you talk to him, you complete and utter girl?”
Jin kicked his feet out before him as he slumped against the wall, staring at his legs. His feet were bare and his toenails were still painted black and blue from the last photo shoot. Kame’s had been the same. They were a pair, always, in all the ways that management and photographers could arrange it without sparking untoward speculation from the reporters. There was a fine line between selling sex and fantasy to their target audience and calling upon the condemnation of a conservative government.
“We have nothing to say,” Jin said finally, letting his fingers move absently over the smooth hardwood of Ryo’s bedroom floor. “I’ve tried, Ryo. You know that. He’s just-this complete ass. He’s totally distant.” His gaze rested on some faraway spot just outside of Ryo’s bedroom window, lost in the gray city sunlight. “We’re different now.”
Ryo tucked his hands beneath his head, still on his back and staring at the vaulted ceiling of his small but pricey studio apartment. “Then what do you want, Jin?” he asked quietly.
The corner of Jin’s mouth quirked, something sad fading into his eyes as he turned to look at his friend. “…something that disappeared when we grew up.”
--
Jin remembered the way Kame used to laugh with him, obnoxiously, over something only stupid teenage boys would find funny. He remembered becoming fast friends-special and different somehow, even amidst all the other friendships they had forged in the Juniors. With so many young boys running around, it was nearly impossible not to make allies and make enemies, staging private wars and competitions away from the eyes of the higher-ups, but things had always been different with Kame.
Being with Kame had made it all easy, which was not something Jin would easily admit to these days. It had taken him-all of them-years of hard work to get where they were now, past a debut too long in coming but on the crest of success that they all knew was well-deserved, and any form of “easy” as a description for the hell they had gone through seemed cheapening. But the laughter had carried him through, and the secrets and the trust; the sense of camaraderie that he had never felt with anyone before, not even his own brother. It was friendship, and it had been the truest, brightest one Jin had known, and it had shattered so achingly slowly that it had been painful to watch.
Filming Gokusen had been one of the highlights of Jin’s life. KAT-TUN’s performances had been increasing in frequency, accompanied by louder and louder cheers and screams from more and more fans. They could all feel the promise of success in their bones, knew that it had to come soon. It was a dizzying, satisfying feeling edged with raw anticipation, and it had gone straight to his head; he had been giddy with it, teasing and flipping jokes with Kame with his eyes fever-bright. It had been glorious and beautiful and Kame had ridden that high with him, because it had been everything they’d ever dreamed of.
Jin looked at his life now, with everything he’d ever dreamed of at hand-success by the spades, raking in the millions, both in yen and in fans. Merchandise and commercials, talk shows and live performances-KAT-TUN was the biggest thing to hit the Japanese pop scene and even the world was reveling.
Jin thought about all his close friendships now, thought about all the times he’d hung out with Yamapi or gone shopping with Ryo. He thought about best friends and fans who poured out their hearts to him, about the electric thrill of performing and the smiles that Ueda gave out with increasing frequency. He thought about the way Kame held himself with sheer self-confidence, charismatic smiles, and a casual sex appeal that was infused in his every movement and each nuance of his easy banter. He thought about the way Kame spoke to him, briefly and distantly, and of his flirtatious smiles with the lady TV hosts.
He had so much to be grateful for and so much to regret, Jin thought. He told himself that he had nothing to complain about, because for everything he’d traded in and for everything he’d lost, he’d gained something just as precious.
--
Everyone was much more careful about drinking after the NEWS fiasco, but that it continued was no surprise to anyone. Not everyone was underage, after all. Koki had brought a six-pack of beer over to Ryo’s flat, Maru tagging along behind him with his button-up shirt tucked over his arm, leaving him clad in only a white tank. It had been a sweltering hot day, spent no better indoors under the hot lights of the Utawara set, and the night persisted in its mugginess.
“Yo,” said Koki in greeting, picking up a beer and sliding it down the counter to Ryo’s waiting hands.
“That’s all you brought?” Ryo answered, making a disgusted face as he popped the cap and pressed the rim of the cool bottle to his lips.
Jin grinned at Maru, rolling his eyes. They both helped themselves to a bottle and wandered over to the cluttered living room, draping themselves across the sofa. Koki followed, muttering about certain people’s ungratefulness, and Ryo brought up the rear with a bag of pretzels in his free hand.
“Catch,” he said, tossing the bag to Jin. It hit him across the face.
“Watch where you aim, asshole,” Jin said, but he was laughing. “I know you’re jealous of my looks, Ryo, but this going a bit far. Attacking me with a bag of pretzels? The press will have a field day with that.”
Ryo tsked. “So conceited, JinJin. Some of us don’t want to be fat like you. Why would I be jealous?”
“As always, great atmosphere,” Maru said, stretching and taking a long pull of his beer. He propped his feet up on the coffee table. “Can’t tell you how much I enjoy spending time with you guys.”
Jin bumped shoulders with him. “The sniping makes it fun, admit it. You just wish you and Koki could be as witty as Ryo and me.” He preened, flicking his hair and ducking with another laugh as Koki swiped his arm.
“That’s not wit, moron,” Koki said. “And if you can’t tell the difference…” He trailed off meaningfully and smirked when Jin affected an insulted look, dropping down onto the floor near Maru’s feet. He grabbed the remote from the table and flicked on the flat-screen TV, flipping through channels in a cacophony of broken phrases.
Jin wrapped his fingers around his beer and listened to the clink of his rings against the bottle. He tilted his head back and rested the bottle on his thigh, a round, cool spot dripping dampness through his jeans. “I like it when we can just be lazy like this,” he said, an indolent sort of contentedness easing its way through his muscles. Even after hectic days, a night like this, just hanging out, was pretty damned nice.
“That’s ‘cause you’re a fatass,” Ryo said promptly, and Jin could hear the wicked grin in his Osaka drawl. “All you do is sleep and eat.”
“And eat and sleep,” Maru put in.
“And occasionally sing,” Koki said thoughtfully. They all chuckled, as if this was something particularly clever, and Jin rolled his eyes.
“Why am I friends with you guys?” he complained.
“Because no one else likes you,” was the answer from three different spots in the room.
Jin sighed, tipping his chin in acknowledgment. He’d walked into that one. “Ueda likes me!” he defended himself, thinking of the conversations he’d had with his group mate recently. They had been pleasant and occasionally perceptive, on both cases, with Jin pinpointing a few of the reasons Ueda was uncomfortable around cameras-he knew, because he was just the opposite-and Ueda uncovering a few things about Kame that Jin wasn’t sure that even he’d known until then. He hoped Ueda wouldn’t say anything. But it was Ueda; of course he wouldn’t.
As if sensing his thoughts, Ryo said, a little too casually, his voice barely audible under the blaring of the TV, “Kame doesn’t.”
Jin tensed. Trust that bastard Ryo to never take it easy on him. Koki and Maru were eyeing him warily. They knew the history between Jin and Kame and they were more than aware of the tension that ran between them now. It was hard to miss, after all, as they were together practically seven days a week, and when they were tired, tempers were short and smiles were replaced with scowls and biting, brusque words. Jin wondered if Kame ever flinched at them the way he did, if Kame ever missed what they used to have, or if he was too busy flaunting himself in front of the cameras.
“Hey,” said Koki, softly.
Jin shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. “No, he doesn’t,” he said. He shrugged but didn’t try to fool them with a smile. “I don’t like him either,” he lied.
--
Kame was stripping his shirt off when Jin walked into the room, ducking away from the crowded backstage tripping full of people and equipment in a veritable sea of electrical cords. He stopped dead when his eyes collided with the smooth expanse of Kame’s back, muscles rippling under tanned skin as the clingy purple shirt was pulled over Kame’s head and tossed onto a nearby folding chair. Kame half-turned and caught Jin’s gaze out of the corner of his eye.
“Hey,” he said, scratching at the base of his spine.
Jin struggled to find the right words and realized that Kame had already stolen the only thing he could think of to say. He managed a smile and a half-nod, half-shrug as he moved further into the room, navigating through the scattered assortment of chairs and tables. He grabbed a water bottle from the table and seated himself as far away from Kame as he could without making it look like he was trying to do so. Warily, he unscrewed the cap and lifted the bottle to his mouth, watching his band mate scrounge through the rack of clothes in the room.
“Leaving already?” he asked after a moment, lowering his arm. He licked his lips, catching a few stray drops of lukewarm water.
Kame was slipping into a comfortable white T-shirt with English words emblazoned across the front. He looked up at Jin’s voice. “Yeah. Hiro said I could leave early. We’re done, anyway.” His hands flitted to his belt and paused there briefly as if considering, and then Kame let his hands fall away, leaving the silver studded belt around his waist. He reached behind him for his bag, hair falling into his face.
Long, Jin thought, considering. Almost as long as his now but a different shade and style. He remembered Kame, younger, with a wide smile and short hair. He remembered all the styles it had gone through, getting progressively longer as they drifted further apart. Jin shifted forward in his seat and asked, casually, “Where you going?”
Kame’s eyes lifted and met his for a long moment. Jin was a little surprised. He’d expected Kame to brush him off with a short reply, as had happened so many times before. Sometimes he didn’t know why he kept trying. It would be so much easier not to, so much easier to just let things fade and slide away at gravity’s pull...but, not quite fully understanding, a part of Jin refused to let Kame go. They had too much history.
I still care. For all that it makes me completely stupid. Jin snorted mentally. He had probably earned his “Bakanishi” nickname.
“I was gonna go home for a bit,” Kame said, voice low. He looked guarded. “Then I was going to go shopping.”
Jin almost smiled. Kame and his shopping obsession. It was never about the clothes he bought, really, just about getting out into the crowd, blending in and experiencing a different sort of hustle. Kame had loved it even years ago, though the things they’d been buying back then had been distinctly different.
Kame caught the small twitch of his lips and his eyes narrowed further.
Jin twirled the water bottle nervously in his hands and forced out a chuckle, heart pounding for some unknown reason. “Well, uh. That sounds fun!” he said. He watched Kame sling his bag over his shoulder and cross the room to the door before he blurted out, “Mind if I come?”
Kame stopped in his tracks. He turned slowly.
An awkward silence hung between them, broken by the voices and noise flooding in through the open door. Jin wanted to beat his head against the nearest wall. What had possessed him to say that? Kame didn’t want to spend time with him; he’d made that perfectly clear multiple times before by declining offers to go out, even as a group, and foraging the city streets and clubs by himself, with his own dates. Jin was such an idiot.
“If you want,” said Kame indifferently as Koki crashed through the doorway, laughing hysterically and short of breath.
“Guys, guys!” he said, between pants and laughter, “you’ll never guess what Junno just did! Man, I can’t believe-“ He broke off when Kame pushed past him without a word and Jin bounded to his feet and across the room in seconds, following. Jin flashed him a quick grin.
“Tell Hiro I’m leaving, alright? Thanks, man.” With a pat on Koki’s arm, he was gone, a single-minded gaze directed at Kame’s back, leaving Koki in confusion at the door of the room.
--
Jin didn’t mean to do it but they’d spent the entire afternoon in something resembling friendliness, exchanging banter that was reminiscent to the days when they’d still be inseparable friends, and Jin could only take so much before his reserve slipped. There was too much familiarity, too much wishful thinking and nostalgia, and so much relief that maybe things weren’t as broken as he’d dreaded. Months of barely civil exchanges and a few catty comments behind each other’s backs, after smiling lies to inquiring reporters, and Jin could forgive it all for a chance to regain what had been lost. He wasn’t quite sure this was the best way to do it, but he’d missed Kame, who had once been his best friend, before either Yamapi or Ryo had stepped up to fill a widening void.
“Hey,” said Jin with a grin as his arm slid around Kame’s shoulders, his one shopping bag dangling against Kame’s right arm. His head tilted toward Kame’s, close enough that their hair brushed, dark brown and black. “I bet that girl knew who you were.”
Kame tensed under him. “Maybe,” he said, eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses.
Jin swallowed as he felt Kame’s hair tickling his bare arm. He didn’t move it. “You saw the way she was looking at you!” he said with a laugh. “She totally wanted an autograph.”
The corners of Kame’s mouth turned up. “She should’ve asked. I would’ve given it to her.”
“Egotist,” Jin accused good-naturedly.
“It’s a wonder she didn’t recognize you,” Kame said in return, his gaze scanning the crowd around them as he navigated carefully with his armful of bags. His silver jewelry caught the light of the afternoon sun, glinting, and Jin glanced down and saw a familiar ring. It hit him like a punch to the stomach, taking his breath away momentarily. He knew it was for the cameras. To prevent rumors. But-he took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
His own pinky was bare. That didn’t stop him from saying, lightly, “That’s because I also have a hat on, you know. Proper disguise! Not like your half-assed attempt.”
Kame flashed him a lazy look, mouth curled. “You don’t think that’s weirder? A beanie cap in 40 degree weather like this?”
Jin made an offended sound and the uncomfortable feeling eased slightly at the mischievous glint in Kame’s eye. “Shut up. No one recognized me,” he said just as a slightly hysterical screaming broke out to his left. He caught sight of a hyperventilating girl, clutching at her friend’s arm, and cringed. “Fuck.”
Kame was laughing.
--
part 2 » part 3 »
The Sun and the Air [part 1]
KAT-TUN, Akame, PG, 2998 words
In which people say "hey" a lot, Jin reflects on friendship, and Kame goes shopping.
The Sun and the Air
by meitachi
one // ima sugu
“So,” said Ryo as sprawled across his king-size bed on his stomach, chin propped up on his folded arms. Dark eyes peered up through his long bangs, pinning Jin with a knowing, unapologetic stare, designed and successfully tested to make one Akanishi Jin squirm; it did no less today and Jin never knew whether or not he should be grateful or annoyed.
Annoyed, he thought, would be the way to go. “Stop that,” he said, throwing the pillow beside him at Ryo. He was cross-legged on the floor of Ryo’s bedroom, dressed down in a black long-sleeved shirt and a pair of comfortable, well-worn jeans. The uncomfortable, slightly guilty feeling that crawled from his stomach at his friend’s look was unsettling and not what Jin was looking for on one of his rare days off. Well, it had really been more like an afternoon off than an entire day, to be honest, but he took what he could get nowadays.
“You’re an idiot,” Ryo announced with a loud sigh as he rolled over onto his back. “I don’t know why I’m friends with such a moron.”
Jin scowled. “Shut up, Ryo.” He cast about for another pillow and settled for one of the tight-fitting, glittery shirts Ryo had strewn across his room haphazardly. The material was soft but scratchy and Jin watched in satisfaction as it arced through the air and landed neatly on Ryo’s face, prompting an undignified yelp.
“Bastard.”
“Asshole.”
“Why don’t you talk to him, you complete and utter girl?”
Jin kicked his feet out before him as he slumped against the wall, staring at his legs. His feet were bare and his toenails were still painted black and blue from the last photo shoot. Kame’s had been the same. They were a pair, always, in all the ways that management and photographers could arrange it without sparking untoward speculation from the reporters. There was a fine line between selling sex and fantasy to their target audience and calling upon the condemnation of a conservative government.
“We have nothing to say,” Jin said finally, letting his fingers move absently over the smooth hardwood of Ryo’s bedroom floor. “I’ve tried, Ryo. You know that. He’s just-this complete ass. He’s totally distant.” His gaze rested on some faraway spot just outside of Ryo’s bedroom window, lost in the gray city sunlight. “We’re different now.”
Ryo tucked his hands beneath his head, still on his back and staring at the vaulted ceiling of his small but pricey studio apartment. “Then what do you want, Jin?” he asked quietly.
The corner of Jin’s mouth quirked, something sad fading into his eyes as he turned to look at his friend. “…something that disappeared when we grew up.”
--
Jin remembered the way Kame used to laugh with him, obnoxiously, over something only stupid teenage boys would find funny. He remembered becoming fast friends-special and different somehow, even amidst all the other friendships they had forged in the Juniors. With so many young boys running around, it was nearly impossible not to make allies and make enemies, staging private wars and competitions away from the eyes of the higher-ups, but things had always been different with Kame.
Being with Kame had made it all easy, which was not something Jin would easily admit to these days. It had taken him-all of them-years of hard work to get where they were now, past a debut too long in coming but on the crest of success that they all knew was well-deserved, and any form of “easy” as a description for the hell they had gone through seemed cheapening. But the laughter had carried him through, and the secrets and the trust; the sense of camaraderie that he had never felt with anyone before, not even his own brother. It was friendship, and it had been the truest, brightest one Jin had known, and it had shattered so achingly slowly that it had been painful to watch.
Filming Gokusen had been one of the highlights of Jin’s life. KAT-TUN’s performances had been increasing in frequency, accompanied by louder and louder cheers and screams from more and more fans. They could all feel the promise of success in their bones, knew that it had to come soon. It was a dizzying, satisfying feeling edged with raw anticipation, and it had gone straight to his head; he had been giddy with it, teasing and flipping jokes with Kame with his eyes fever-bright. It had been glorious and beautiful and Kame had ridden that high with him, because it had been everything they’d ever dreamed of.
Jin looked at his life now, with everything he’d ever dreamed of at hand-success by the spades, raking in the millions, both in yen and in fans. Merchandise and commercials, talk shows and live performances-KAT-TUN was the biggest thing to hit the Japanese pop scene and even the world was reveling.
Jin thought about all his close friendships now, thought about all the times he’d hung out with Yamapi or gone shopping with Ryo. He thought about best friends and fans who poured out their hearts to him, about the electric thrill of performing and the smiles that Ueda gave out with increasing frequency. He thought about the way Kame held himself with sheer self-confidence, charismatic smiles, and a casual sex appeal that was infused in his every movement and each nuance of his easy banter. He thought about the way Kame spoke to him, briefly and distantly, and of his flirtatious smiles with the lady TV hosts.
He had so much to be grateful for and so much to regret, Jin thought. He told himself that he had nothing to complain about, because for everything he’d traded in and for everything he’d lost, he’d gained something just as precious.
--
Everyone was much more careful about drinking after the NEWS fiasco, but that it continued was no surprise to anyone. Not everyone was underage, after all. Koki had brought a six-pack of beer over to Ryo’s flat, Maru tagging along behind him with his button-up shirt tucked over his arm, leaving him clad in only a white tank. It had been a sweltering hot day, spent no better indoors under the hot lights of the Utawara set, and the night persisted in its mugginess.
“Yo,” said Koki in greeting, picking up a beer and sliding it down the counter to Ryo’s waiting hands.
“That’s all you brought?” Ryo answered, making a disgusted face as he popped the cap and pressed the rim of the cool bottle to his lips.
Jin grinned at Maru, rolling his eyes. They both helped themselves to a bottle and wandered over to the cluttered living room, draping themselves across the sofa. Koki followed, muttering about certain people’s ungratefulness, and Ryo brought up the rear with a bag of pretzels in his free hand.
“Catch,” he said, tossing the bag to Jin. It hit him across the face.
“Watch where you aim, asshole,” Jin said, but he was laughing. “I know you’re jealous of my looks, Ryo, but this going a bit far. Attacking me with a bag of pretzels? The press will have a field day with that.”
Ryo tsked. “So conceited, JinJin. Some of us don’t want to be fat like you. Why would I be jealous?”
“As always, great atmosphere,” Maru said, stretching and taking a long pull of his beer. He propped his feet up on the coffee table. “Can’t tell you how much I enjoy spending time with you guys.”
Jin bumped shoulders with him. “The sniping makes it fun, admit it. You just wish you and Koki could be as witty as Ryo and me.” He preened, flicking his hair and ducking with another laugh as Koki swiped his arm.
“That’s not wit, moron,” Koki said. “And if you can’t tell the difference…” He trailed off meaningfully and smirked when Jin affected an insulted look, dropping down onto the floor near Maru’s feet. He grabbed the remote from the table and flicked on the flat-screen TV, flipping through channels in a cacophony of broken phrases.
Jin wrapped his fingers around his beer and listened to the clink of his rings against the bottle. He tilted his head back and rested the bottle on his thigh, a round, cool spot dripping dampness through his jeans. “I like it when we can just be lazy like this,” he said, an indolent sort of contentedness easing its way through his muscles. Even after hectic days, a night like this, just hanging out, was pretty damned nice.
“That’s ‘cause you’re a fatass,” Ryo said promptly, and Jin could hear the wicked grin in his Osaka drawl. “All you do is sleep and eat.”
“And eat and sleep,” Maru put in.
“And occasionally sing,” Koki said thoughtfully. They all chuckled, as if this was something particularly clever, and Jin rolled his eyes.
“Why am I friends with you guys?” he complained.
“Because no one else likes you,” was the answer from three different spots in the room.
Jin sighed, tipping his chin in acknowledgment. He’d walked into that one. “Ueda likes me!” he defended himself, thinking of the conversations he’d had with his group mate recently. They had been pleasant and occasionally perceptive, on both cases, with Jin pinpointing a few of the reasons Ueda was uncomfortable around cameras-he knew, because he was just the opposite-and Ueda uncovering a few things about Kame that Jin wasn’t sure that even he’d known until then. He hoped Ueda wouldn’t say anything. But it was Ueda; of course he wouldn’t.
As if sensing his thoughts, Ryo said, a little too casually, his voice barely audible under the blaring of the TV, “Kame doesn’t.”
Jin tensed. Trust that bastard Ryo to never take it easy on him. Koki and Maru were eyeing him warily. They knew the history between Jin and Kame and they were more than aware of the tension that ran between them now. It was hard to miss, after all, as they were together practically seven days a week, and when they were tired, tempers were short and smiles were replaced with scowls and biting, brusque words. Jin wondered if Kame ever flinched at them the way he did, if Kame ever missed what they used to have, or if he was too busy flaunting himself in front of the cameras.
“Hey,” said Koki, softly.
Jin shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. “No, he doesn’t,” he said. He shrugged but didn’t try to fool them with a smile. “I don’t like him either,” he lied.
--
Kame was stripping his shirt off when Jin walked into the room, ducking away from the crowded backstage tripping full of people and equipment in a veritable sea of electrical cords. He stopped dead when his eyes collided with the smooth expanse of Kame’s back, muscles rippling under tanned skin as the clingy purple shirt was pulled over Kame’s head and tossed onto a nearby folding chair. Kame half-turned and caught Jin’s gaze out of the corner of his eye.
“Hey,” he said, scratching at the base of his spine.
Jin struggled to find the right words and realized that Kame had already stolen the only thing he could think of to say. He managed a smile and a half-nod, half-shrug as he moved further into the room, navigating through the scattered assortment of chairs and tables. He grabbed a water bottle from the table and seated himself as far away from Kame as he could without making it look like he was trying to do so. Warily, he unscrewed the cap and lifted the bottle to his mouth, watching his band mate scrounge through the rack of clothes in the room.
“Leaving already?” he asked after a moment, lowering his arm. He licked his lips, catching a few stray drops of lukewarm water.
Kame was slipping into a comfortable white T-shirt with English words emblazoned across the front. He looked up at Jin’s voice. “Yeah. Hiro said I could leave early. We’re done, anyway.” His hands flitted to his belt and paused there briefly as if considering, and then Kame let his hands fall away, leaving the silver studded belt around his waist. He reached behind him for his bag, hair falling into his face.
Long, Jin thought, considering. Almost as long as his now but a different shade and style. He remembered Kame, younger, with a wide smile and short hair. He remembered all the styles it had gone through, getting progressively longer as they drifted further apart. Jin shifted forward in his seat and asked, casually, “Where you going?”
Kame’s eyes lifted and met his for a long moment. Jin was a little surprised. He’d expected Kame to brush him off with a short reply, as had happened so many times before. Sometimes he didn’t know why he kept trying. It would be so much easier not to, so much easier to just let things fade and slide away at gravity’s pull...but, not quite fully understanding, a part of Jin refused to let Kame go. They had too much history.
I still care. For all that it makes me completely stupid. Jin snorted mentally. He had probably earned his “Bakanishi” nickname.
“I was gonna go home for a bit,” Kame said, voice low. He looked guarded. “Then I was going to go shopping.”
Jin almost smiled. Kame and his shopping obsession. It was never about the clothes he bought, really, just about getting out into the crowd, blending in and experiencing a different sort of hustle. Kame had loved it even years ago, though the things they’d been buying back then had been distinctly different.
Kame caught the small twitch of his lips and his eyes narrowed further.
Jin twirled the water bottle nervously in his hands and forced out a chuckle, heart pounding for some unknown reason. “Well, uh. That sounds fun!” he said. He watched Kame sling his bag over his shoulder and cross the room to the door before he blurted out, “Mind if I come?”
Kame stopped in his tracks. He turned slowly.
An awkward silence hung between them, broken by the voices and noise flooding in through the open door. Jin wanted to beat his head against the nearest wall. What had possessed him to say that? Kame didn’t want to spend time with him; he’d made that perfectly clear multiple times before by declining offers to go out, even as a group, and foraging the city streets and clubs by himself, with his own dates. Jin was such an idiot.
“If you want,” said Kame indifferently as Koki crashed through the doorway, laughing hysterically and short of breath.
“Guys, guys!” he said, between pants and laughter, “you’ll never guess what Junno just did! Man, I can’t believe-“ He broke off when Kame pushed past him without a word and Jin bounded to his feet and across the room in seconds, following. Jin flashed him a quick grin.
“Tell Hiro I’m leaving, alright? Thanks, man.” With a pat on Koki’s arm, he was gone, a single-minded gaze directed at Kame’s back, leaving Koki in confusion at the door of the room.
--
Jin didn’t mean to do it but they’d spent the entire afternoon in something resembling friendliness, exchanging banter that was reminiscent to the days when they’d still be inseparable friends, and Jin could only take so much before his reserve slipped. There was too much familiarity, too much wishful thinking and nostalgia, and so much relief that maybe things weren’t as broken as he’d dreaded. Months of barely civil exchanges and a few catty comments behind each other’s backs, after smiling lies to inquiring reporters, and Jin could forgive it all for a chance to regain what had been lost. He wasn’t quite sure this was the best way to do it, but he’d missed Kame, who had once been his best friend, before either Yamapi or Ryo had stepped up to fill a widening void.
“Hey,” said Jin with a grin as his arm slid around Kame’s shoulders, his one shopping bag dangling against Kame’s right arm. His head tilted toward Kame’s, close enough that their hair brushed, dark brown and black. “I bet that girl knew who you were.”
Kame tensed under him. “Maybe,” he said, eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses.
Jin swallowed as he felt Kame’s hair tickling his bare arm. He didn’t move it. “You saw the way she was looking at you!” he said with a laugh. “She totally wanted an autograph.”
The corners of Kame’s mouth turned up. “She should’ve asked. I would’ve given it to her.”
“Egotist,” Jin accused good-naturedly.
“It’s a wonder she didn’t recognize you,” Kame said in return, his gaze scanning the crowd around them as he navigated carefully with his armful of bags. His silver jewelry caught the light of the afternoon sun, glinting, and Jin glanced down and saw a familiar ring. It hit him like a punch to the stomach, taking his breath away momentarily. He knew it was for the cameras. To prevent rumors. But-he took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
His own pinky was bare. That didn’t stop him from saying, lightly, “That’s because I also have a hat on, you know. Proper disguise! Not like your half-assed attempt.”
Kame flashed him a lazy look, mouth curled. “You don’t think that’s weirder? A beanie cap in 40 degree weather like this?”
Jin made an offended sound and the uncomfortable feeling eased slightly at the mischievous glint in Kame’s eye. “Shut up. No one recognized me,” he said just as a slightly hysterical screaming broke out to his left. He caught sight of a hyperventilating girl, clutching at her friend’s arm, and cringed. “Fuck.”
Kame was laughing.
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