Closing Time
Title: Closing Time
Pairing: Akame
Genre: Angst
Disclaimer: Not mine
Summary: Kame is a stranger, visiting their utopia for a night.
Beta:Longer author's note.
Note: Written for
2009, for acchikocchi . Originally posted here.
Kame opens his eyes, sunlight momentarily blinding him, and sees the driver looking at him through the mirror.
He smiles at him, “Airport please.”
***
As time passed, not once did Kame chance a glance back to mull over yesterday’s tears. Things, events, insignificant though they may seem initially, always happen for a reason. He believed that. He had to believe it.
***
His boots were uncomfortably snug around his feet, and he focused on the itchy, hot sensation between his toes to take his mind off things. His steps were unsure as he shuffled away from his fellow arrivals, hoping to escape the thick, sweaty crowd as soon as possible.
The way the words spill from their lips and how the sound rolls from their tongues makes him nauseous, to say the least. He closes his eyes and even out his breathing as the buzzing over his ears reaches static level. He understands them, both contextual and lexical, but comprehension fails to make him feel at completely at ease.
He lowers his shoulders the moment he steps in a clearance at the right side of the Arrivals area. He exhales - the air humid, dry, sketchy and a little bit foul, travels down, filling up his lungs and clearing his head, making his blood rush and his toes less itchy.
The grip he has on his bag tightens as his eyes travels around the crowd. He feels a heavy tug on his chest as he studies the faces of the people on the other side of the metal barrier. The way their faces change in an expression of keenness for whomever they’re waiting for makes his stomach clench. He wants to turn back on his heels and leave, but instead clutches the edge of his coat. He can do this.
He drops his bag at his side as a boy skids towards him, tumbling right before his feet, the child’s little arm elbowing his shin, making Kame double over and fall on his side, hard.
“ - Jiro! Oh dear!”
Kame snaps his eyes open upon hearing the familiar accent; the growing bruise on his arm slowly making the pain fade away.
The woman is probably around his own age. They way her eye flutters as she reaches down to him, pulling him up to stand beside her, reveals that she is able to recognize him despite all these years.
“I’m… sorry. He slipped. He’s just excited.” Her first syllables are soft and terse, observing if it’s fine to speak in their tongue.
“Seems like that.” He replies with a small smile that he hopes would make her feel that he’s just a stranger, just like her, a simple traveler standing here right as of the moment.
He feels a bit light headed when she flushes quite wildly after bowing down several times. Her fair, yellowish complexion, so typical of theirs, glows softly as the afternoon sunlight seeps through the glass window that oversees the runway.
“Sorry. Really.” And before he can ask her name, or even just decide if he has the guts to do so, she grabs the hand of the child, who had been ignored during the duration of their small chat, and walks away.
Kame stands there, muscles aching, and holds the gaze of the boy as he is being dragged away. And before he can stop himself, Kame raises a hand and waves to the wide-eyed, blinking child.
He can’t explain the soft churning he feels in the pit of his stomach when the child returns the wave, albeit stiffly.
Kame closes his eyes immediately; a soft rasping ache echoes though him. He brings his hands together, pressed together in front of his lips and breathes. He inhales through his nose and lets it out through his lips.
When he finally thinks it’s safe, he opens his eyes and realizes that they are gone.
***
He grabs his bag and moves away from his spot.
Encounters like that are happening to him more frequently. A mere look, a rough touch, a voice across the room, outside his car, a stranger, an old friend - almost anything jolts this desire of his to hold them and know them and ask them:Is it you? Are you here?
He wonders if he has finally reached that point where his sanity lies on the borderlines of mad desperation. Is his heart finally taking control from his head, making him accept the consequences of his choices?
***
He spots her first, not the other way around. She doesn’t stand out from the rest of the crowd. She’s small and almost invisible between the two men towering on either sides. But his eyes are drawn to her nonetheless. A short of animalistic instinct, he considers. Far from predator-prey - it’s purely territorial intuition.
He takes his time walking towards her. She had always interested him since day one, even before he had actually met her. Her presence there; the fact she is in the place as he is; that he is finally here - all make the anxiety attack he had seconds ago seem like a wary caution of what tonight could offer.
Hurrying people passed by him, occasionally bumping into his shoulders. Quick apologies are thrown at him; they don’t mean it and he doesn’t mind. It’s been quite sometime now and years had taken its toll on them.
He is focused on sketching her form, not in his heart, far from that, but on his mind. Intricately weaving the why, how and if together, combining memories and thoughts and assumptions.
Her forehead is creased as her eyes dart from her watch to his general direction, still not seeing him. Her attire is geometrical, brass and cold - the straight cut of her beige pants, her black, sleek blazer, her two-tone tucked-in tunic and even her shiny black pearl earrings - but the moment she turns her head, big, black eyes blinking and the way her bob cut bounces makes her look cute and fresh as her attire fails to portray her only as a no-nonsense career woman.
He knows her as someone who trails after the shiny, pretty things, but she’s not shallow. She has depth. He likes to believe she is more than that because if proven otherwise that will make what they have now as something perversely hypocritical… if it’s not yet, that is. He has no regrets. None. He doesn’t want to start now. Especially now.
She only notices him when he was barely a foot away from her. Her face brightens and she raises an arm, “Kamenashi!”
“Erika.” He simply smiles back.
***
“I thought you were the type to own fancy Japanese cars?” Kame says as his fingers trace the leather seats.
It just feels right for him to be there, sitting on the shotgun seat when she’s barely an arm’s length away and she has that small, knowing smile that’s directed at no one. The car fragrance wafts, citrus and drops of summer, and it calms his nerves.
She laughs, shaking her head. “I am but Chrysler is surprisingly more practical and functional.”
Kame looks at her and he sees beyond the strict lines and solid colors of her attire and he sees and understands beyond that silver band on her left ring finger. “You’re very pretty, Erika,” he says because there’s no point in denying that.
She gambles one look at him. “Thanks.” She bites her lips and concentrates on driving.
Everything inside the minivan shines with stability, dependence and comfort - from the single vent suit hanging by the sliding door to the folded blanket on the back seat, from the Tootsie Roll wrappers on the dashboard to the bottle of Gatorade at the side door compartment.
Kame has the urge to hold himself tight.
The small teddy bear atop the folded blankets catches Kame’s eye when he glances at the side mirror, and he feels the rush of anticipated excitement. The cold sweat, the offbeat tempo of his heart, the slight tremors of his stomach - He isn’t numb. This is excitement not an anxiety attack, he convinces himself.
“We’re going to pick her up from school,” she says and her tone fails to reveal anything else. Kame closes his eyes. “I hope you don’t mind,” she adds.
Kame reaches up to his collar and loosens it, popping open some buttons. “Please, I’d love to.” He tries to even out his breathing. He distracts himself with the view of endless highway before them.
***
They park across the street and he follows Erika when she rushes out of the minivan. They aren’t the only ones there but the schoolyard is almost empty and the remaining cars are revving up, ready to go home.
“Mum.” A girl is leaning against a metal railing, a purple hood is over her head and red-framed glasses are almost slipping off the ridge of her nose and she seems not aware of it.
Her eyes are black and clear behind the glasses. There’s an air of rigid determination around her and yet, the restlessness of her fingers at her sides and the soft, wasp of side bangs that sticks out of her hood still manage to paint an image of a young schoolgirl rather than an impatient daughter.
She seems comfortable within her skin and knows who she is and that’s enough for Kame. Yes, that’s enough. Everything is in order. Smooth sailing and no one seems to be rocking the boat. He should just go back and forget about this. He is just a mere stranger.
The girl straightens up when Erika is within earshot. “The school bus was s -”
“Aiko.” The way Erika says her name prompts the girl to pause and blink. The stress on her name says it all.
The girl pulls the hood down and pushes her glasses back. Her stance changes as she becomes aware of his presence. Kame breathes as he sees her features clearly now - strong jaw line, a beautiful small nose and, Kame narrows his eyes, faint freckles on her cheeks. She’s young and fierce and Kame wants to cry and curl up in his bed back home.
Erika is a few steps ahead of Kame. “Sorry. I had to pick-up someone.” There is a flash of confusion on the girl’s face as Erika motions him to come over.
“This is Kamenashi Kazuya. He is a friend of Dad’s.”
Kame decides the girl deserves an equally calm demeanor from him and doesn’t need pampering and patronizing. He remains standing and resists the urge to crouch down to eye level with her.
Aiko stares at him, eyes blinking, studying him. He expects nothing less from her after all. She bites her lips before bowing, “Nice to meet you. My name is Aiko Akanishi.”
Kame gathers up all his remaining strength to smile at her. “Nice to meet you too.”
***
“You have a lovely house.” Kame says as they enter the house. It was dark and almost grim outside but inside it’s yellows and blues and shabby chic. Aiko leads the way and she’s gone up to the stairs even before Kame realizes that this isn’t Japan and this is a foyer not a genkan.
“Just change your clothes. Come down afterwards!” Erika shouts before turning back to Kame, “Ah yes. This house?” She lets out a small laugh as she continues to walk inside the house, “Mortgage is killing us but it’s worth it. Nice neighborhood.”
Kame stands just below the arch on the hallway and notes the details of cornices, wonders at the texture of the light blue cotton drape by the window, smells the potpourri in the glass bowl. He touches the wall and lets his palm relax as he feels the surface. Unable to stop himself, he then lets his palm graze the surface of the wall, tracing it lightly, ghostly, almost hypnotic. His eyes briefly flutter as he feels the tingling sensation that hits the sensitive nerves of his palm.
“The guest room is at the far end of the corridor. Please, rest while I cook. I’ll just call you down when dinner’s ready.” Her words catch him off guard. Her tone is soft, almost a whisper, and in such a manner that might fool him that what they have is something intimate, welded together by a promise.
She stands across the room, leaning against the wall before the kitchen door. One hand playing with the edge of a landscape painting that hangs just inches away from her head.
“I’ll just put my stuff there. What are you cooking? I can help.”
She laughs. “I’m insulted. I can prepare good meals, you know.”
“Didn’t imply otherwise, not even one bit.” Kame raises his hands, amused.
“Then let me do it by myself.” She drops her hand at her sides and smiles at him.
“Don’t be so polite,” she continues with much softer tone, “…you’re not a guest. You’re family.”
Kame wants to say otherwise but decides against it. He simply nods at her as she enters the kitchen, leaving him alone in the living room.
***
By the time he steps downstairs Aiko is already settled on the couch by the window, curled around a yellow pillow and reading a book. Her black shirt and khaki shorts clash with the pastels around her. He frowns at the lack of proper lighting of the room for reading.
“What are you reading?”
“Math. Coordinate plane.” And she blinks and looks guilty. “Uh -”
“It’s alright. If you’re more comfortable speaking in English....”
She fidgets in her seat and eventually manages to sit properly. She raises her head and looks at Kame through her glasses, fringe almost covering half of her face, “But Dad wants me to speak Japanese at home.”
Kame smiles as he takes a seat on the other end of the couch. “Oh. And you don’t like that?”
She avoids looking at him and settles on burying her face back on the book.
“It’s cool. It’s fine. I’m Japanese.” She says after a stretch of silence and she gives him a side-glance, her fingers tight around the edge of the book.
Kame encourages her, “Yeah?”
“Being… uh, bilingual is… cool.” She frowns and Kame can’t help but laugh. “It’s okay. Take your time learning the language.”
She blinks, “Yeah.” And goes back to her book.
Kame leans back and just drowns himself with Aiko’s presence beside him, quietly reading. They are worlds apart but just for now Kame wants to believe they are not.
“Hey. Math is not meant to be read… by the book. You should practice it.”
She turns to him, slowly and tucks her bangs behind her ears. Her eyes are now clear, big, black and vulnerable and Kame is taken aback. He holds her gaze, wondering if he had said something wrong.
“I’m dyslexic.”
“…You are?”
She pushes her glasses up again and closed the book, “Yeah.” She inches back until she is almost curled against the armrest before hugging her knees together.
“Since when? No, I mean… since when did you -”
“I've always known. I don’t know any different.” Aiko looks at him with same air of confidence she had back in the schoolyard and he can’t figure if it is out of self-defense or not.
“Mum and Dad would take time to read with me, teach me. I always have to do things more slowly than the rest of the class.” She pauses and bites her lip, her fingers restless against her sides. “I just know. Ever since.”
“And you’re studying in a public school.” It isn’t a question; he isn’t talking to her either. Kame curls his fingers and feels a rush of emotion he hasn’t felt in years.
“Yes. Why?”
There’s a sudden flash of light from outside and they hear the tell tale sound of a car parking. Aiko jumps off the couch immediately, “Dad’s home.”
And Kame’s words are stuck at the back of his tongue, almost forgotten.
***
Kame hangs around the corner as Aiko opens the door and then there he was. Dressed in a simple long-sleeved dress shirt and pants, black jacket thrown over his shoulder, Jin looks so average and content that Kame’s heart swells.
“Hey there, sweetie.” Jin hastens to place the brown bags on the table, then crouches down to Aiko and kisses her forehead, “Where’s Mum? Where’s our guest?”
Kame almost flinches at his accent. It’s like they are back in Shibuya years ago where everything is funny and bright, where they walk with easy smiles and smelly training shoes in their bag packs, where everything is sugar-coated and shabby chic.
Kame wants to laugh, he really wants to.
“Kitchen. She’s pretending to cook.”
Jin laughs - deep yet light, easy as usual and reverberating against Kame’s ears. Nostalgia washes over him, leaving his skin dry and a bitter sting on his tongue.
Jin stands up, ready to reply to Aiko only to pause midway as he sees Kame at the end of the hallway.
“Kame.” He looks like he has seen an apparition. Maybe he is seeing one, Kame thinks.
“Hi there.” Kame greets him, not moving from where he stands, his eyes soft. Jetlag has finally caught up.
Kame shifts his weight and closes his eyes briefly. He can’t help but indulge himself, “Welcome home.” The words roll of his tongue so sweet and gentle he can’t believe so much time has passed.
“How’re you? Oh dear. Yeah.” Jin laughs a little. “Yeah - ” His smile disappears and Kame almost regret this but Jin says, “I’m home.” Kame can only curse all the gods up there, probably betting amongst themselves over their fate and its bittersweet ironies.
“I can’t believe this. You’re really here.” He walks towards him, dragging Aiko with him, their fingers intertwined.
“I am.” Kame straightens up and he waits.
Jin’s eyes glisten and Kame refuses to acknowledge the emotions he can read from the other’s gaze. Jin stops when he is right in front of Kame, the arch of the hallway over them and Aiko’s hands clutching his.
Kame’s chest tightens, static sounds echoes around him again; he feels restricted, locked inside a box, no air. Can’t breathe.
Jin raises his hand, like he’s ready to hug him but he blinks instead, bites his lower lip and taps Kame’s shoulder instead, brief and steady.
Kame sighs, almost snorting. He wants to laugh really hard.
“How was your flight?”
Kame is about to answer but he hears the kitchen door open and he glances back.
“Jin?” Erika peeks out.
“Hey. Everything’s good?” Jin walks past Kame and lets go of Aiko’s hand, leaving her at one corner, observing them behind her glasses.
Erika steps out of the doorway, her yellow apron weirdly complementing her suit pants and black pearls. “Dinner’s ready,” she says before clutching the cuffs of Jin’s sleeves.
Kame doesn’t turn his head away when she kisses Jin.
“Kamenashi. Aiko. Come, let’s eat.” Her voice is clear and Kame knows.
***
“So how’s the ocular inspection so far?” Jin works with his fork like he would with a drumstick, with a rhythm and beat and music that a hungry man wouldn’t have. Jin always has the grace of a ballet dancer, even when he doesn’t try to and even when he’s drunk and beat up.
Kame pauses before smiling at him, “Anaheim is of course at the top of my list. But I might still check out others.”
“The convention center? Isn’t that bit small?” Jin scratches his nose and Kame almost forgot that they are in California and not in Tokyo, that they aren’t alone and that his wife and Aiko are in the same room.
Kame puts down his fork and wipes his mouth, “No. The Angel Stadium.”
The color of pesto blends well with the light blue bowls. The pasta is a bit over-cooked but he can live with it. For what the dinner lacks in perfection, the ambience makes up for it.
They are seated at a small circular dinning table that’s just right for the four of them. Not too cramped, just enough space to make the whole set up be as homey as it can be. For just one night, Kame can fool himself.
A small chandelier casts a soft light over the room. Kame finds himself craving for some classical music, a hammock and chamomile tea.
They have fallen into this small talk that Kame finds comfortable rather than awkward. This is what it seems customary for them to do. And it’s easy, so easy to just smile, eat good food and drink sweet wine, laugh and enjoy the night.
Kame wonders if this what they call numbness.
***
Erika has finally changed into a simple blue tee and jeans and she looks like an older sister of Aiko. She smiles aloud and laughs shyly. She darts her eyes when it’s funny and blinks when in shock. She doesn’t butt into their Jimusho talks but busies herself with telling Aiko to eat her salmon instead.
Jin kicks the leg of the table when Kame says something he remembers from back in their days in Japan, laughing loudly. His eyes are like Christmas lights, blinking with different colors and emotions, blinking alternately in split second and in great intervals.
And, Kame thinks and his heart swells, if Jin doesn’t shave soon he will look like Father Christmas too.
Aiko sits between Jin and Erika, across the table from Kame and he thinks they are indeed worlds apart. She just sits there, quietly eating her pasta and playing with her salmon, sparing the adults a glance or two every now and then, observing them; her clear eyes void of any emotion as the adults interact.
***
“How ‘bout the shows in Florida? Wine?” Jin pours him a glass even before Kame can reply.
He swirls his glass a bit, the wine has a nice color. Kame sips before continuing, “Everything’s fine there. Good to go. Kitamura was a great help. Do you remember him? Nice guy.”
“Was he the former manager of Tokio? The one with the mole?”
“Kinki Kids but yeah, he’s that one. This salmon is amazing, Erika.” Kame raises his glass to her and she raises hers in return.
“Thanks, it's my best friend’s recipe. I’m a disaster in the kitchen.” She shakes head, hiding her amused smile behind her hand.
“She is.” Jin laughs and Erika slaps his shoulder. “What? You are!” And Kame joins in the laughter.
***
“Oh by the way,” Erika puts her fork down, eyes on Kame, “I know you’re with AEG Live already but do you still need assistance with the ads? Our firm can give you a hand. We’re still a small company but we have the right connections.”
Kame blinks, for a second he’s worried but recovers. He smiles a little, “Thank you for the offer. I’d really love to but unfortunately the contract is set and blood was shed already. And I guess you know how these promoters work.”
Erika laughs, “It’s fine.” She raises her palms as she shakes her head a little. “Can’t blame me for trying my luck. Working with AEG would do us good.”
“I’ll put a good word for you. If not this one, another tour is already planned out for next year and I’ll make sure you’ll be working with us then.”
“You don’t have to do that but thank you.”
Kame glances at Jin and the other just smiles at him. He then takes that as an opportunity, “How about you? How’s work?”
Jin pushes the empty pasta bowl away from him and props his elbow over the edge of the table, and rests his chin on the pad of his knuckles, “Work’s picking up in the studio. You don’t have any idea of how many aspiring artists there are in this city alone. And oh, that reminds me,” He turns to Erika, “the school gave me two additional night classes.”
Erika tucks her hair behind her ear. “Starting when?”
“Next week. Wednesdays and Saturday nights.”
“Oh. That’s a lot of hours.” Erika blinks and pales from what Kame thinks is worry.
Kame ducks his head and diverts his attention to the salmon, taking note of the pecan crust and how nice the texture is. Baking must be Erika’s expertise.
“It’s okay,” Jin smiles and raises his thumb. “We’ll be getting a new sound technician at the studio.”
“Oh. Alright then.” Erika exhales and breaks into a lovely smile.
Kame finishes off his pesto. The mint-tangy taste of the herbs in the pesto and the sweetness of wine blends perfectly. He feels his senses heighten.
He wipes his mouth and finally looks up; he hopes his tone won’t betray him. “You both have fulltime jobs, Jin even has two. I hope you’re not stressing yourselves.”
Jin looks at him. Christmas lights blinking, bursting in technicolor. “I love what I’m doing. Writing music, helping people do their music. Doesn’t pay much but I love it. So is teaching,” He laughs a bit, almost like giggle, hiding his amused red face behind his palms, “Never thought I’d be teacher but hey, I like it. Japanese is cool. People like to learn our language. And that pays well.”
Erika lowers her head and smiles at herself, “Thanks for worrying about us but we’re fine.” She raises her head and looks at Kame, her heart on her sleeve - stitched with red thread, details in bold and Kame understands.
“I love what I’m doing too. I can’t stand being at home and doing nothing. I want to be in the office, working, dealing with clients. Sounds weird, but I like getting tired because I like the feeling of wanting to go home and be with my family.”
Kame wants to tap his foot, loud and strong. He rakes his fingers through his hair instead, letting his stress untangle too. He smiles at Jin. He smiles at Erika. He props his elbow on the table and rests his head on his hand. “I understand. I know. You two look happy.”
He feels light and restless at the same time. He wants to argue but he cannot and should not. Everything looks, smells and even tastes nice. It is not his place to....
“I agree with Kamenashi-san.” Aiko cold voice cuts through the atmosphere.
“Mum, you’re pregnant. You shouldn’t work much anymore.”
Kame tries to meet Erika’s eyes, tries to even out his voice, to not croak, to speak with as much confidence as he can muster, to not cry and bleed. His hands tremble when he grabs the napkin and clutches it hard. “…You are?”
Erika pales further, avoiding Kame’s eyes too. “I - ”
“She is.” Jin answers, a visibly tense hand massaging the ridge of his nose. “She is.”
She is. She is. Kame repeats it in his head, thinking that maybe the implication would die down as he gets used to the idea. He remains smiling as he tries to breathe normally and tries not to think much.
Kame runs his hands over his thighs, over the rough texture of his jeans. He wants to feel that tingling sensation over his palms again, to lose himself with the drop of pleasure he gets from it. He runs his palms over his jeans, searching for friction and warmth.
Aiko blinks and just observes the three of them.
After a moment of silence, Kame finally presses his hands together under the table and smiles at them. “Congratulations then.”
Erika raises her head to meet his eyes, she opens her mouth, hesitation flashes across her face and eventually she closes her mouth but keeps her eyes fixed on him.
“Well, you have to listen to Aiko. Don’t stress too much, Erika.” He smiles and doesn’t say anything anymore.
Aiko finishes off her salmon and frowns. Kame catches her gaze and he smiles at her, his heart is heavy and ready to burst, and she smiles back, a bit hesitant and stiff but the act itself is enough for Kame and he doesn’t regret this. He doesn't.
***
The whole house is quiet and the lights are out but Kame’s up. He’s standing by Aiko’s open door, watching her sleep and his cold hands are buried in his pockets.
Her room isn’t pink, yellow or baby blue; it’s white with green curtains, mismatched furniture and it’s a bit messy and with so much character. She sleeps on the top bunk; red-checkered duvet covers pulled up to her chin. The bottom bunk is full of books and teddy bears and other trinkets.
She has a red lava lamp and Kame thinks she’s too mature for a nine year old.
Kame doesn’t move when he hears footsteps and doesn’t say anything when he feels someone standing behind him.
“We were going to tell you. I’m sorry you have to know it from Aiko,” she pauses, “…from all people. ” Erika voice sounds so small he thinks she’ll break soon.
Kame refuse to face her, instead he rests his head against the doorframe. “…what do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know,” she whispers.
Kame wants to sleep, curl up in bed and dream. He sighs softly. He feels cold; he trembles. He doesn’t take his eyes off the sleeping form of Aiko.
“Please don’t take her away.” Erika whispers again, and her tone tugs at Kame’s heartstrings.
He finally turns to her.
He sees her big, dark eyes that say a thousand words. She’s strong or at least trying to be. She’s a mother. She has to do it and Kame understands where she’s coming from.
“We love Aiko. I love her. She’s my daughter.” She finally breaks but she wipes her tears immediately. “Please,” she pleads.
Truth to be told, Kame wants to cry with her. Everything is just as painful and confusing as it was years ago. There is a heavy, almost unbearable tug on his chest and his thoughts are running, overlapping, blurring. He thought it had been the right decision, the right choice, the only thing to do, and now... now he was not sure.
His head feels light, it’s like he’s floating and there’s fog everywhere. Everything seems to be a dream, and the promise of morning seems to be farfetched.
There is a sudden movement at the end of the corridor. Kame looks past her and sees Jin walking towards them.
Kame stands straight and glances back at Erika, smiling. “Don’t be like this. Stress won’t do anything good to the baby.”
“Erika, go back to our room. Go and sleep.” Jin touches her shoulder.
“But - ”
Jin squeezes her shoulder, “Just go. This is between the two of us.”
Jin raises his head and Kame stares back.
“No. Aiko’s my daughter too.” She moves forward. “She’s my daughter.” She repeats, her eyes narrowing as she looks at Kame, fists trembling slightly.
Kame shakes his head, closes his eyes again. He feels the tension, it threads through the air, weaving such an ominous atmosphere. It’s too much.
He looks at the both of them, unblinking. “We’ll wake her up if we stay here.” He bites his inner cheek as he walks past them.
***
Wicker chairs are more comfortable than what Kame had initially thought. He curls up in one and closes his eyes. This is a really nice neighborhood. Barely a minute past midnight but the street is still and quiet already.
He’s on the deck at the back of the house. The wood isn’t creaking and seats are clean and neat. It overlooks a small backyard. The sky is clear and Kame thinks this is a good place to have barbeques.
Kame intends to sleep, to just shut off then and there, to shut out the world, to forget about everything for the meantime and deal with it tomorrow. Tomorrow when he might have the strength to do what he has to do.
Unfortunately, the slide door opens and consciousness suddenly kicks in.
“Kame?” Jin’s voice has always been that raspy during the night because he tends to overuse it during the day. Kame weakens as memories that are supposed to be buried and locked away are slowly coming back to life before him.
With a great effort, he slowly opens his eyes but doesn’t move from his chair.
“Are you awake?”
“…Yeah.”
Jin walks towards the railing in front of Kame and leans against it. “Talk to me.”
Kame squints. He can’t see his face. The other is standing against the faint moonlight, his silhouette is soft and he seems like a ghost, something intangible. Something unreachable; like he has always been.
Kame smiles as he turns his head sideways and murmurs against the cushion, “I’m sleepy. But the bed is too soft. I want a futon.” Kame moves a bit and tucks his legs under him. He touches his hair and remembers he didn’t bring his shampoo with him. Kame grunts softly, and for a second he wants to go back to Japan so bad.
“Kame.” Jin repeats and Kame can almost feel Jin’s pain.
Kame frowns as he forces himself to sit straight. He likes the tranquility from a while ago, but now, it suffocates him. “What do you want me to say?”
Jin lets a small growl as he rubs his hands on his face, hard. He then slumps against the railing and Kame cringes when Jin hits the floor. The other leans his head against the railing, his eyes on the sky. Even with such a dejected, mournful look, Jin is still achingly beautiful. Still. That is another thing that has never changed.
Kame feels his resolution dying and his defense of calm indifference is crumbling down, one brick at a time. No amount of cement can make him blind and numb.
“Don’t do this Kame.” Jin’s voice is strained.
“Do what? I’m not even talking.”
“Look,” Jin sits straight, eyes on Kame, “We really planned to tell you. We never stopped trying to have a baby. Never stop seeing doctors. And see, it finally pays off. Erika’s three months pregnant. And we’re happy. Don’t get us wrong. We love Aiko. Aiko is our daughter. We… just want to have our own.”
“She’s my daughter too, Jin.” Kame stops himself, fights to keep the words inside him. He can’t do this. He covers his eyes with his palm.
“No. Kame, no. She isn’t yours anymore. You’ve signed the papers. She’s ours.”
Kame laughs - bitter, light and painful in the cheeks, “What is she, a thing? And we’re simply arguing about who owns her?” He grips the armrest hard as he heaves deep.
“Aiko is not thing, not a possession Jin. She’s my daughter. She’s your daughter.”
“But we broke up!” Jin is shaking but not from anger; he is pale and trembling.
“Yes we did.” Kame starts out, slowly. He evens out his breathing, his emotions blurring the edge of his logic. “And you found yourself a very lovely wife and you married her. But Erika can’t have kids. Well,” he snorts, hurt taking over, ‘Well, at least at that the time she can’t.” Jin groans at that but Kame ignores him, “And you called me up and said you want to be happy. You asked me. So I signed the papers.”
Jin spat, “Don’t make it look like you’re the one who sacrificed everything.”
Kame laughs again, high pitched and scornful. He narrows his eyes at the other and that says it all. Sacrificed everything, Jin? Who sacrificed everything they held dear? Which of the two of us has what they dreamed of?
Jin shakes his head in exasperation. “God, Kame. I knew that you coming here for a visit won’t do any good.”
“Is it so bad to want to check on my daughter once in a while?”
Jin keeps silent, eyes still closed; a small sigh escapes from his pale lips.
Kame leans back, tense fingers making circular motions on the armrest, “Of course, it’s a bad idea,” Kame snorts, “You forgot to tell me that Erika can have kids now.” He eyes shot daggers at Jin shining with other unsaid accusations as his nerves pulled taut.
Jin springs up, and strides forward until he is mere inches from the wicker chair. “No. Don’t ruin us. Her. She’s nine years old already! Don’t ruin our family.”
Hot. The air has gotten thicker and Kame can’t breathe. Jin stares at him and the way his eyes accuse him of so much pain and so many mistakes in the past slices through the air - a jagged cut that severs through the heavy atmosphere and makes Kame’s chest tighten. It hurts to hear Jin claim a family that does not include him, even though he logically knows he has one.
“She doesn’t know she’s adopted. What’ll you do? Drag her back to Japan? Tell her that her Dad’s gay? That she was adopted by her Dad and his ex-boyfriend?”
Kame closes his eyes for moment, hands playing with edge of his shirt, a small wry smile on his face. Silence stretches on before he raises his head and meets the eyes of the other, “You regret that? You’re ashamed of that? You’re ashamed of us?”
Jin shakes his head as he steps backward. “God. I can’t do this, Kame. I really can’t.” Jin covers his eyes with his arm as he stands there.
Kame continues playing with the edge of his shirt, tracing his fingers at the seams, noting it’s rough texture. “Why didn’t you tell me that she’s dyslexic?” he whispers and he hears his own voice shaking.
Jin lowers his arm and looks at him. Jin blinks, as if trying to collect his thoughts, looking for common ground between them. “We were settled here already when she was diagnosed.”
“When?”
“Preschool.”
Kame bends over and buries his head in his hands.
Jin sits down on the other wicker chair. “We thought she was just a slow reader. Her teacher thought otherwise.”
Kame straightens up and turns to the man at his side, eyes on Jin. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Kame asks quietly.
“We’re settled here then. And for what?”
“Shit, Jin. Preschool? That’s just a year after you moved here. And for Christ’s sake, signed papers or not, she’s my daughter.” Kame grips the armrests tight, his knuckles white.
Kame stares at him, waiting for a bitter rebuttal but Jin just leans back and remains silent.
“I could have helped if you’re having money problems.”
“What?” Kame is hurt to see such a disgusted look on Jin’s face. “We don’t need your money. I can properly provide for my family. I might not be as well-off as before but I - ”
“Bullshit, Jin. Bullshit. Aiko has dyslexia! And she’s studying in a public school! She doesn’t even have a tutor! I saw her reading her math book!”
“She’s good. She’s not behind her class. Erika and I are helping her. She doesn’t need a stranger to help her!”
“You two work fulltime. She needs professional help. Why can’t you just admit that you can’t afford it? Your pride will not do you any good!”
Jin stands up and kicks the wicker chair backwards. Kame flinches at that. He looks up, only to see Jin look away and bury his face in his palms. “I’m sorry about that.” Jin murmurs.
He paces for a good minute and Kame just watches him. The calm, blissful Jin he saw earlier that evening is gone. This is the man he left years ago. This is the pained, broken man he never wants to see ever again. This is the pained, broken man who had been the reason behind his choice to stay behind, to stay apart, to let him go, to set him free. This was the man who should no longer be able to exist. This man... his heart aches at the unfairness.
Kame stays in the wicker chair and tries so hard to tune out from the world, to be numb and drift off and never come back.
“We have money. Aiko has a trust fund.”
His desire is short-lived. Kame removes himself from his cocoon and before he can stop himself, he laughs. He hears the bitterness in his voice, but Jin does not.
“Yeah, of course you have. You have enough to make your house over in matching yellows and blues. To have fresh flowers on your dining table every day. To go to the doctors every week so that your wife can become pregnant.”
Jin stops pacing. “Don’t you dare talk about Erika like that! You don’t know her!”
Kame lets out a loud tsk, “I’ve nothing against Erika. All I care about is Aiko.”
“No.” Jin seethes but Kame doesn’t flinches. “I won’t let you take her away from us.”
“Jin! Are you listening to me? Do you ever?” Kame cannot take it anymore. He rises and walks past the other. “You always jump to conclusion.” He leans against the railing - weight shifting, balancing, eyes a bit blurry and almost dizzy - as he faces the other again, “Did I ever say I’ll take her to Japan?”
Jin rakes his hand through his hair, wariness apparent. “God, Kame. I’m so tired.”
Kame closes his eyes. “Enroll her in a special school next term.”
“I don’t need your help. Don’t order me around.”
“Shit, Jin. Shut up. I’m not doing this for you.” Kame grips the railing to stop himself from hurling himself at the other, the urge to lessen internal pain through violence mounting inside him.
“I will put her in a nice, fancy school, but I don’t need your money.”
Kame turns his back to Jin and leans over the railing again. A small sigh escapes from him as he stretches, arms above his head.
Kame smiles. That will do. Jin’s stubbornness has died down a little over the years.
There is a sudden breeze and Kame feels lightheaded. His skin tingles and he unconsciously hugs himself, his rough palms rubbing his arms. He hears Jin sigh softly and the tension is gone.
Kame is gathering his thoughts, calming his nerves and weighing his options as he drowns himself in the smell of the grass and cool night air. Jin lingers at the other end of the deck and Kame tries to tune out. He fancies himself alone in his apartment and not here, across the world with a decade’s worth of pain slowly sketching it’s ugly form before him.
“Why did you come?” He feels Jin standing behind him. He can’t delude himself that they are back in Japan, standing in the veranda of their little apartment. The air here is light, almost chilling. No nostalgia. Nothing familiar. It almost irritates him.
“I wanted to see Aiko.”
“Do you regret it?”
Kame faces Jin, genuinely confused, “Regret what?”
“Breaking up with me?”
Kame laughs, short and sharp, “We’re not going there, Jin. It’s been years.”
“You started this. You asked this first. So you do regret.”
“Jin, no. Stop. We will not talk about that.” Static noise buzzing in his ears, he feels his throat burning. He wants to scratch his skin hard, leaving red, angry marks to keep himself focused, to not drift off and lose himself within the waves of emotions.
“Why are you running away? Just admit that you regret breaking up with me. You said it yourself. You deserve happiness. That means you’re not happy. That’s it, right?
“No, Jin. No. You’re wrong. I don’t regret it. Look at us right now. Arguing and fighting. It’s always like this. Always.” Kame clicks his tongue. He tastes bitterness. “Why are we even talking about this?”
“So you regret loving me?” Jin looks so tired and weary, roughed up by life. Jin has lost the raw, innocent optimism that Kame fell in love with.
“Never. I don’t regret breaking up with you and at the same time I will never, ever regret loving you and sharing my life with you. I loved you. And I really did.” He pauses, his expression tired, “Can we end this conversation? I’ll go to sleep now.”
He has his eyes closed when he walks past Jin. A second longer and he knows he’ll say things he shouldn’t. He doesn’t regret things and he doesn’t want to do or say anything he is positive he will regret when the morning comes and reality rises from the dark pit between them.
“Why did we have to break up then?”
And with that question alone, spoken in such a wounded manner, with that raspy voice that tells years of woven memories, tales of great loves and missed chances, Kame gives up and lets his mask wither away. “What is this all about Jin?”
Kame chokes as he sees Jin so small and broken. The other’s eyes glisten with unshed tears and overlapping emotions. Jin has always been transparent and Kame wants to whimper. He doesn’t want Jin to be like this. Jin is strong and doesn’t plead. Jin has his pride.
“I - Just say it. Just say you want me again. I can leave all of this Kame. I - ”
“No. You have a wife.” He strides towards him and closes the gap.
“You love her.” Kame says softly, each word leaving a bruise behind as he forces them out. “I saw it. I felt it. When you both came to talk to me about Aiko, I saw it - I… you two are meant for each other. Even now, she’s lovely Jin.”
Jin steps back and looks away, fists at his sides.
“Erika is beautiful and smart. She has the stability that you need. I cannot and will never be able to provide that sense of stability.” Kame bites his lip and he feels his blood rushing through him but his palms remain cold.
“And she’s pregnant.” The words spill so naturally without the bitter taste he’s expecting. “You will have beautiful children. Aren’t you happy with Erika?”
“I am. I love her. But you’re different.” Jin smiles at him, such a sad smile that pierces Kame, wounding him in various depths that even Kame isn’t aware he has.
“You’re Kazuya. My Kame. I never stopped believing in us. I loved you, Kame - No, love. Until now. Even now. You don’t believe that?”
There’s not a drop of hesitation on Jin’s voice and that makes it worse.
“I do. Aiko’s the proof of that. One point of our life, we sincerely believed that we could build our own family. That love is all we need. During that time, it was real. And I had never been happier.” He looks at Jin and, just once he’ll admit it to himself, he wants to embrace the other and just remember what it feels to be his again.
“But that’s not enough. We can go on forever loving each other but we cannot be together. We are simply not meant for each other. It’s too much. Too strong. We can’t balance out. We suffocate each other. We go crazy. We lose ourselves. We just can’t, Jin.”
“I don’t understand you.”
“I don’t either. We are not supposed to understand these things. But I know you understand where I’m coming from. We had been together for such a long time and we just always end up hurting each other. Over and over and over again. We’re better off this way. Look at you. You look so happy and satisfied with your life here. And seeing you again made me realize that letting you go is one of the best decisions I ever made.”
Jin turns his head away and immediately wipes a lone teardrop. Kame aches for him, for them.
They stand there, a foot away from each other. Jin’s eyes are downcast while Kame looses himself with the view of the endless clear night sky.
They let the silence comfort their broken selves.
“And you?”
“I’m happy. Satisfied with everything.” Kame smiles at him.
“I don’t believe you but I don’t want to argue with you anymore.” Jin massages the ridge of his nose as he heaves a sigh, “You always manage to stir me up. I - ”
“Enough, Jin. Please.”
Jin looks at him and Kame holds his gaze. Words remain unsaid and emotions are set aside permanently, too deeply felt to be acknowledged.
“What time is your flight tomorrow? I’ll drive you to the airport.”
“No need. I’ll call a cab.”
“Good night, Kame.” Jin doesn’t say anything more. He walks away, leaving Kame alone in the deck.
“Good night, Jin.” Kame whispers to the dark.
***
It didn’t rain last night but as the air breeze through the open door, it seems like it did as Kame can feel the soft morning dew on his skin. The air is cold, tingling almost, and he feels light, ready to face the world.
“You’re going already?”
Kame turns around and sees Aiko at the bottom of the stairs, still in her pajamas, hands rubbing her eyes. It’s a scene pulled out of a TV drama and with the morning breeze's gentle touch, Kame knows that this will be great day.
“Yeah. I have an early flight.” Kame drops his bag at the floor and walks towards her.
Aiko frowns as she meets him half-way, “When are you gonna visit again?”
Before Kame can even lie to her, a soft voice answers for him, “Soon.” Kame raises his head and sees Erika standing by the end of the hallway.
Wearing a printed, long sleeved summer dress, Erika shines. For him, she is untainted; there is no scar of lost love in her. There is an evident undoubting optimism and raw fierceness around her and Kame will do everything he can to preserve that beauty of hers.
For a moment, their eyes meet and Kame knows he made the right decision.
“Yeah, soon.” Kame repeats for Aiko, assuring the child and himself.
Erika’s dress flutters as she moves. Even with an intimidating bob cut, she manages to look pristine, immaculate like the Virgin. As soon as she reaches them, she places her hand over Aiko’s head, fingers playing with the child’s hair.
“Are you sure you don’t want to eat breakfast?”
“I’m fine. Thank you. The cab is already outside.”
Erika sighs softly, “Alright then.”
Kame smiles at her, gathers up his courage and says the line in his head a dozen time before parting his lips. With each syllable a part of him dies, “I wish you’ll have a healthy baby.”
Erika brightens; her eyes wet from unshed tears. Without a flash of hesitation, she moves to hug him, her hands tight around him, trembling, “Thank you.” Kame can only hug her back, drowning in her warmth.
“Hey, Dad. Morning.”
When Erika pulls away from Kame, Jin is already at the side of Aiko, all dressed up for the day.
Last night’s tension seems like a dream, a blotch to this wonderful utopia. Jin’s smile is big, bright and beautiful, without a trace of yesterday’s bitterness. “Hey, sweetie.”
“Oh. You’re off to work already?” Erika asks.
“Ah yeah. I need to check some things at the studio before I go to the school. I have a long day.” He pauses and faces Kame, “Can you drop me off at the studio? It’s along the way.”
Kame gambles a glance in Erika's direction. She seems to be unmindful of what the other just said. “…Yeah sure.”
The cab then honks and Kame feels the time slipping away.
He looks at Aiko, his heart beating a familiar tempo. He breathes, deep, before crouching down to her level - just for once, he wants to treat her like a child, his child.
“Hey. Do you know the meaning of your name?”
Aiko blinks. “Child of love,” she answers, direct and without hesitation.
“Correct.” Kame reaches to cup her cheeks. He can’t explain the sudden relief that washes over him when she doesn't flinch from his touch.
“You are a loved child. Never forget that.”
Aiko holds his gaze for a moment.
“I’ll see you soon.” Kame whispers, voice raspy, shaking and almost breaking.
Aiko slowly clutches a part of his shirt and nods.
***
Kame’s pale fingers drum against the window glass. Its cold surface keeping him awake and the beats blend with the song from the radio.
Tip Tap Tip Tap Tap Tap Tip
The view outside is a mere streak of colors and light, blurring with the tinge of sunlight seeping through the window.
Kame sighs softly as he turns to look at Jin at front. All he can see is the back of Jin’s head - a mess of familiar black hair. Even his scent is distinct and strong. It doesn’t change and Kame wonders if it ever will.
Kame’s hand falls at his side, he has lost his rhythm, and finally closes his tired eyes.
Ten more minutes into the silence and Kame is almost asleep.
“Hey, can you pull over there? At the corner?” Jin’s soft voice wakes him up. He slowly opens his eyes and let them wander to the street outside.
“Kazuya.”
Kame rests his forehead against the window; his eyes fix on the bagel shop across the road. People flock around it, hoping to grab a quick breakfast.
People outside are busy and the world is spinning. The world doesn’t wait for anyone. Time keeps up with change. With one blink, you could have missed your chance of a lifetime. Kame gathers his hands together and clasps it tight; his pulse beating hard against his skin.
“Be happy.” Jin finally says.
Kame closes his eyes, a small smile on his lips. “I am happy.”
Kame waits, silence stretches on.
“Then be happier.”
There is a movement and before Kame can even wipe his lone teardrop, he hears the door open and Jin is gone.
Kame opens his eyes, sunlight momentarily blinding him, and sees the driver looking at him through the mirror.
He smiles at him, “Airport please.”
***
Kame finally stands when he hears the PA system announcing his flight. He stretches a bit as he walks, arms over his head, one elbow bent in an attempt to relax his strained muscles.
He runs his rough palm over his other arm, putting pressure as it trails up and down, massaging it, hoping it’ll at least lessen its stress and his weariness.
He silently whistles as people around him walk briskly, heading to their own flights, specific destinations in mind. There is a melody playing in his head and his mind works overtime to catch up with the beat and rhythm so he can at least whistle it.
He should be used to this already but he still feels uncomfortable as people around him rush in different directions and their mangled voices mix into a static noise that washes over his ears. Some bump into him but only few care to offer a quick apology. This time he at least tries to be sincere when he says “It’s alright.”
He takes his time trailing after a small crowd, one hand inside his pocket, the other clutching his ticket and passport. He doesn’t keep up with the pace of everyone else. He slows down as he tries to clear his mind and tries to concentrate on the melody playing repeatedly in his mind instead.
“Oh Jiro. Oh God, JIRO Don’t run! Don’t run!”
Kame whips around and sees a boy running in his direction. He blinks as the boy halts in front him, the child’s big, almost expectant eyes on him.
“Mister, I’m sorry for bumping you yesterday.” The boy bows down and Kame chuckles.
“Jiro!” Kame raises his head and sees the woman sprinting towards them.
“Oh dear. I - I’m sorry.” She wipes her face as she tries to even out her breathing, her other hand over her chest. “He… he just ran after you when he saw you pass by. I -"
“It’s okay.” Kame’s heart swells a bit. “He’s a very polite child.”
The woman blinks and bites her lower lip before nodding. Kame almost laughs when she flushes again. The crimson color of her face is in great contrast with her fair, yellowish complexion.
Kame looks down at the boy and the other nods at him with a funny, serious expression on his face. Kame chuckles as he turns to the woman.
“I’m Kamenashi Kazuya by the way.” Kame offers his hand.
She blinks, blushes a deeper red and looks at him, apparently confused with the whole deal. He smiles at her, hoping that this time it’ll convince her that they can both be mere strangers, meeting accidentally in an airport.
After a moment of silence, which Kame finds amusing rather than awkward, she finally reaches out and takes his hand. “Oikawa Kana. And this is my son, Jiro.” Her soft palm is warm against his and Kame thinks she glows just a bit as she smiles.
“Nice to meet you.” Kame decides that today will be a great day.
END
Pairing: Akame
Genre: Angst
Disclaimer: Not mine
Summary: Kame is a stranger, visiting their utopia for a night.
Beta:Longer author's note.
Note: Written for
2009, for acchikocchi . Originally posted here.
Kame opens his eyes, sunlight momentarily blinding him, and sees the driver looking at him through the mirror.
He smiles at him, “Airport please.”
***
As time passed, not once did Kame chance a glance back to mull over yesterday’s tears. Things, events, insignificant though they may seem initially, always happen for a reason. He believed that. He had to believe it.
***
His boots were uncomfortably snug around his feet, and he focused on the itchy, hot sensation between his toes to take his mind off things. His steps were unsure as he shuffled away from his fellow arrivals, hoping to escape the thick, sweaty crowd as soon as possible.
The way the words spill from their lips and how the sound rolls from their tongues makes him nauseous, to say the least. He closes his eyes and even out his breathing as the buzzing over his ears reaches static level. He understands them, both contextual and lexical, but comprehension fails to make him feel at completely at ease.
He lowers his shoulders the moment he steps in a clearance at the right side of the Arrivals area. He exhales - the air humid, dry, sketchy and a little bit foul, travels down, filling up his lungs and clearing his head, making his blood rush and his toes less itchy.
The grip he has on his bag tightens as his eyes travels around the crowd. He feels a heavy tug on his chest as he studies the faces of the people on the other side of the metal barrier. The way their faces change in an expression of keenness for whomever they’re waiting for makes his stomach clench. He wants to turn back on his heels and leave, but instead clutches the edge of his coat. He can do this.
He drops his bag at his side as a boy skids towards him, tumbling right before his feet, the child’s little arm elbowing his shin, making Kame double over and fall on his side, hard.
“ - Jiro! Oh dear!”
Kame snaps his eyes open upon hearing the familiar accent; the growing bruise on his arm slowly making the pain fade away.
The woman is probably around his own age. They way her eye flutters as she reaches down to him, pulling him up to stand beside her, reveals that she is able to recognize him despite all these years.
“I’m… sorry. He slipped. He’s just excited.” Her first syllables are soft and terse, observing if it’s fine to speak in their tongue.
“Seems like that.” He replies with a small smile that he hopes would make her feel that he’s just a stranger, just like her, a simple traveler standing here right as of the moment.
He feels a bit light headed when she flushes quite wildly after bowing down several times. Her fair, yellowish complexion, so typical of theirs, glows softly as the afternoon sunlight seeps through the glass window that oversees the runway.
“Sorry. Really.” And before he can ask her name, or even just decide if he has the guts to do so, she grabs the hand of the child, who had been ignored during the duration of their small chat, and walks away.
Kame stands there, muscles aching, and holds the gaze of the boy as he is being dragged away. And before he can stop himself, Kame raises a hand and waves to the wide-eyed, blinking child.
He can’t explain the soft churning he feels in the pit of his stomach when the child returns the wave, albeit stiffly.
Kame closes his eyes immediately; a soft rasping ache echoes though him. He brings his hands together, pressed together in front of his lips and breathes. He inhales through his nose and lets it out through his lips.
When he finally thinks it’s safe, he opens his eyes and realizes that they are gone.
***
He grabs his bag and moves away from his spot.
Encounters like that are happening to him more frequently. A mere look, a rough touch, a voice across the room, outside his car, a stranger, an old friend - almost anything jolts this desire of his to hold them and know them and ask them:Is it you? Are you here?
He wonders if he has finally reached that point where his sanity lies on the borderlines of mad desperation. Is his heart finally taking control from his head, making him accept the consequences of his choices?
***
He spots her first, not the other way around. She doesn’t stand out from the rest of the crowd. She’s small and almost invisible between the two men towering on either sides. But his eyes are drawn to her nonetheless. A short of animalistic instinct, he considers. Far from predator-prey - it’s purely territorial intuition.
He takes his time walking towards her. She had always interested him since day one, even before he had actually met her. Her presence there; the fact she is in the place as he is; that he is finally here - all make the anxiety attack he had seconds ago seem like a wary caution of what tonight could offer.
Hurrying people passed by him, occasionally bumping into his shoulders. Quick apologies are thrown at him; they don’t mean it and he doesn’t mind. It’s been quite sometime now and years had taken its toll on them.
He is focused on sketching her form, not in his heart, far from that, but on his mind. Intricately weaving the why, how and if together, combining memories and thoughts and assumptions.
Her forehead is creased as her eyes dart from her watch to his general direction, still not seeing him. Her attire is geometrical, brass and cold - the straight cut of her beige pants, her black, sleek blazer, her two-tone tucked-in tunic and even her shiny black pearl earrings - but the moment she turns her head, big, black eyes blinking and the way her bob cut bounces makes her look cute and fresh as her attire fails to portray her only as a no-nonsense career woman.
He knows her as someone who trails after the shiny, pretty things, but she’s not shallow. She has depth. He likes to believe she is more than that because if proven otherwise that will make what they have now as something perversely hypocritical… if it’s not yet, that is. He has no regrets. None. He doesn’t want to start now. Especially now.
She only notices him when he was barely a foot away from her. Her face brightens and she raises an arm, “Kamenashi!”
“Erika.” He simply smiles back.
***
“I thought you were the type to own fancy Japanese cars?” Kame says as his fingers trace the leather seats.
It just feels right for him to be there, sitting on the shotgun seat when she’s barely an arm’s length away and she has that small, knowing smile that’s directed at no one. The car fragrance wafts, citrus and drops of summer, and it calms his nerves.
She laughs, shaking her head. “I am but Chrysler is surprisingly more practical and functional.”
Kame looks at her and he sees beyond the strict lines and solid colors of her attire and he sees and understands beyond that silver band on her left ring finger. “You’re very pretty, Erika,” he says because there’s no point in denying that.
She gambles one look at him. “Thanks.” She bites her lips and concentrates on driving.
Everything inside the minivan shines with stability, dependence and comfort - from the single vent suit hanging by the sliding door to the folded blanket on the back seat, from the Tootsie Roll wrappers on the dashboard to the bottle of Gatorade at the side door compartment.
Kame has the urge to hold himself tight.
The small teddy bear atop the folded blankets catches Kame’s eye when he glances at the side mirror, and he feels the rush of anticipated excitement. The cold sweat, the offbeat tempo of his heart, the slight tremors of his stomach - He isn’t numb. This is excitement not an anxiety attack, he convinces himself.
“We’re going to pick her up from school,” she says and her tone fails to reveal anything else. Kame closes his eyes. “I hope you don’t mind,” she adds.
Kame reaches up to his collar and loosens it, popping open some buttons. “Please, I’d love to.” He tries to even out his breathing. He distracts himself with the view of endless highway before them.
***
They park across the street and he follows Erika when she rushes out of the minivan. They aren’t the only ones there but the schoolyard is almost empty and the remaining cars are revving up, ready to go home.
“Mum.” A girl is leaning against a metal railing, a purple hood is over her head and red-framed glasses are almost slipping off the ridge of her nose and she seems not aware of it.
Her eyes are black and clear behind the glasses. There’s an air of rigid determination around her and yet, the restlessness of her fingers at her sides and the soft, wasp of side bangs that sticks out of her hood still manage to paint an image of a young schoolgirl rather than an impatient daughter.
She seems comfortable within her skin and knows who she is and that’s enough for Kame. Yes, that’s enough. Everything is in order. Smooth sailing and no one seems to be rocking the boat. He should just go back and forget about this. He is just a mere stranger.
The girl straightens up when Erika is within earshot. “The school bus was s -”
“Aiko.” The way Erika says her name prompts the girl to pause and blink. The stress on her name says it all.
The girl pulls the hood down and pushes her glasses back. Her stance changes as she becomes aware of his presence. Kame breathes as he sees her features clearly now - strong jaw line, a beautiful small nose and, Kame narrows his eyes, faint freckles on her cheeks. She’s young and fierce and Kame wants to cry and curl up in his bed back home.
Erika is a few steps ahead of Kame. “Sorry. I had to pick-up someone.” There is a flash of confusion on the girl’s face as Erika motions him to come over.
“This is Kamenashi Kazuya. He is a friend of Dad’s.”
Kame decides the girl deserves an equally calm demeanor from him and doesn’t need pampering and patronizing. He remains standing and resists the urge to crouch down to eye level with her.
Aiko stares at him, eyes blinking, studying him. He expects nothing less from her after all. She bites her lips before bowing, “Nice to meet you. My name is Aiko Akanishi.”
Kame gathers up all his remaining strength to smile at her. “Nice to meet you too.”
***
“You have a lovely house.” Kame says as they enter the house. It was dark and almost grim outside but inside it’s yellows and blues and shabby chic. Aiko leads the way and she’s gone up to the stairs even before Kame realizes that this isn’t Japan and this is a foyer not a genkan.
“Just change your clothes. Come down afterwards!” Erika shouts before turning back to Kame, “Ah yes. This house?” She lets out a small laugh as she continues to walk inside the house, “Mortgage is killing us but it’s worth it. Nice neighborhood.”
Kame stands just below the arch on the hallway and notes the details of cornices, wonders at the texture of the light blue cotton drape by the window, smells the potpourri in the glass bowl. He touches the wall and lets his palm relax as he feels the surface. Unable to stop himself, he then lets his palm graze the surface of the wall, tracing it lightly, ghostly, almost hypnotic. His eyes briefly flutter as he feels the tingling sensation that hits the sensitive nerves of his palm.
“The guest room is at the far end of the corridor. Please, rest while I cook. I’ll just call you down when dinner’s ready.” Her words catch him off guard. Her tone is soft, almost a whisper, and in such a manner that might fool him that what they have is something intimate, welded together by a promise.
She stands across the room, leaning against the wall before the kitchen door. One hand playing with the edge of a landscape painting that hangs just inches away from her head.
“I’ll just put my stuff there. What are you cooking? I can help.”
She laughs. “I’m insulted. I can prepare good meals, you know.”
“Didn’t imply otherwise, not even one bit.” Kame raises his hands, amused.
“Then let me do it by myself.” She drops her hand at her sides and smiles at him.
“Don’t be so polite,” she continues with much softer tone, “…you’re not a guest. You’re family.”
Kame wants to say otherwise but decides against it. He simply nods at her as she enters the kitchen, leaving him alone in the living room.
***
By the time he steps downstairs Aiko is already settled on the couch by the window, curled around a yellow pillow and reading a book. Her black shirt and khaki shorts clash with the pastels around her. He frowns at the lack of proper lighting of the room for reading.
“What are you reading?”
“Math. Coordinate plane.” And she blinks and looks guilty. “Uh -”
“It’s alright. If you’re more comfortable speaking in English....”
She fidgets in her seat and eventually manages to sit properly. She raises her head and looks at Kame through her glasses, fringe almost covering half of her face, “But Dad wants me to speak Japanese at home.”
Kame smiles as he takes a seat on the other end of the couch. “Oh. And you don’t like that?”
She avoids looking at him and settles on burying her face back on the book.
“It’s cool. It’s fine. I’m Japanese.” She says after a stretch of silence and she gives him a side-glance, her fingers tight around the edge of the book.
Kame encourages her, “Yeah?”
“Being… uh, bilingual is… cool.” She frowns and Kame can’t help but laugh. “It’s okay. Take your time learning the language.”
She blinks, “Yeah.” And goes back to her book.
Kame leans back and just drowns himself with Aiko’s presence beside him, quietly reading. They are worlds apart but just for now Kame wants to believe they are not.
“Hey. Math is not meant to be read… by the book. You should practice it.”
She turns to him, slowly and tucks her bangs behind her ears. Her eyes are now clear, big, black and vulnerable and Kame is taken aback. He holds her gaze, wondering if he had said something wrong.
“I’m dyslexic.”
“…You are?”
She pushes her glasses up again and closed the book, “Yeah.” She inches back until she is almost curled against the armrest before hugging her knees together.
“Since when? No, I mean… since when did you -”
“I've always known. I don’t know any different.” Aiko looks at him with same air of confidence she had back in the schoolyard and he can’t figure if it is out of self-defense or not.
“Mum and Dad would take time to read with me, teach me. I always have to do things more slowly than the rest of the class.” She pauses and bites her lip, her fingers restless against her sides. “I just know. Ever since.”
“And you’re studying in a public school.” It isn’t a question; he isn’t talking to her either. Kame curls his fingers and feels a rush of emotion he hasn’t felt in years.
“Yes. Why?”
There’s a sudden flash of light from outside and they hear the tell tale sound of a car parking. Aiko jumps off the couch immediately, “Dad’s home.”
And Kame’s words are stuck at the back of his tongue, almost forgotten.
***
Kame hangs around the corner as Aiko opens the door and then there he was. Dressed in a simple long-sleeved dress shirt and pants, black jacket thrown over his shoulder, Jin looks so average and content that Kame’s heart swells.
“Hey there, sweetie.” Jin hastens to place the brown bags on the table, then crouches down to Aiko and kisses her forehead, “Where’s Mum? Where’s our guest?”
Kame almost flinches at his accent. It’s like they are back in Shibuya years ago where everything is funny and bright, where they walk with easy smiles and smelly training shoes in their bag packs, where everything is sugar-coated and shabby chic.
Kame wants to laugh, he really wants to.
“Kitchen. She’s pretending to cook.”
Jin laughs - deep yet light, easy as usual and reverberating against Kame’s ears. Nostalgia washes over him, leaving his skin dry and a bitter sting on his tongue.
Jin stands up, ready to reply to Aiko only to pause midway as he sees Kame at the end of the hallway.
“Kame.” He looks like he has seen an apparition. Maybe he is seeing one, Kame thinks.
“Hi there.” Kame greets him, not moving from where he stands, his eyes soft. Jetlag has finally caught up.
Kame shifts his weight and closes his eyes briefly. He can’t help but indulge himself, “Welcome home.” The words roll of his tongue so sweet and gentle he can’t believe so much time has passed.
“How’re you? Oh dear. Yeah.” Jin laughs a little. “Yeah - ” His smile disappears and Kame almost regret this but Jin says, “I’m home.” Kame can only curse all the gods up there, probably betting amongst themselves over their fate and its bittersweet ironies.
“I can’t believe this. You’re really here.” He walks towards him, dragging Aiko with him, their fingers intertwined.
“I am.” Kame straightens up and he waits.
Jin’s eyes glisten and Kame refuses to acknowledge the emotions he can read from the other’s gaze. Jin stops when he is right in front of Kame, the arch of the hallway over them and Aiko’s hands clutching his.
Kame’s chest tightens, static sounds echoes around him again; he feels restricted, locked inside a box, no air. Can’t breathe.
Jin raises his hand, like he’s ready to hug him but he blinks instead, bites his lower lip and taps Kame’s shoulder instead, brief and steady.
Kame sighs, almost snorting. He wants to laugh really hard.
“How was your flight?”
Kame is about to answer but he hears the kitchen door open and he glances back.
“Jin?” Erika peeks out.
“Hey. Everything’s good?” Jin walks past Kame and lets go of Aiko’s hand, leaving her at one corner, observing them behind her glasses.
Erika steps out of the doorway, her yellow apron weirdly complementing her suit pants and black pearls. “Dinner’s ready,” she says before clutching the cuffs of Jin’s sleeves.
Kame doesn’t turn his head away when she kisses Jin.
“Kamenashi. Aiko. Come, let’s eat.” Her voice is clear and Kame knows.
***
“So how’s the ocular inspection so far?” Jin works with his fork like he would with a drumstick, with a rhythm and beat and music that a hungry man wouldn’t have. Jin always has the grace of a ballet dancer, even when he doesn’t try to and even when he’s drunk and beat up.
Kame pauses before smiling at him, “Anaheim is of course at the top of my list. But I might still check out others.”
“The convention center? Isn’t that bit small?” Jin scratches his nose and Kame almost forgot that they are in California and not in Tokyo, that they aren’t alone and that his wife and Aiko are in the same room.
Kame puts down his fork and wipes his mouth, “No. The Angel Stadium.”
The color of pesto blends well with the light blue bowls. The pasta is a bit over-cooked but he can live with it. For what the dinner lacks in perfection, the ambience makes up for it.
They are seated at a small circular dinning table that’s just right for the four of them. Not too cramped, just enough space to make the whole set up be as homey as it can be. For just one night, Kame can fool himself.
A small chandelier casts a soft light over the room. Kame finds himself craving for some classical music, a hammock and chamomile tea.
They have fallen into this small talk that Kame finds comfortable rather than awkward. This is what it seems customary for them to do. And it’s easy, so easy to just smile, eat good food and drink sweet wine, laugh and enjoy the night.
Kame wonders if this what they call numbness.
***
Erika has finally changed into a simple blue tee and jeans and she looks like an older sister of Aiko. She smiles aloud and laughs shyly. She darts her eyes when it’s funny and blinks when in shock. She doesn’t butt into their Jimusho talks but busies herself with telling Aiko to eat her salmon instead.
Jin kicks the leg of the table when Kame says something he remembers from back in their days in Japan, laughing loudly. His eyes are like Christmas lights, blinking with different colors and emotions, blinking alternately in split second and in great intervals.
And, Kame thinks and his heart swells, if Jin doesn’t shave soon he will look like Father Christmas too.
Aiko sits between Jin and Erika, across the table from Kame and he thinks they are indeed worlds apart. She just sits there, quietly eating her pasta and playing with her salmon, sparing the adults a glance or two every now and then, observing them; her clear eyes void of any emotion as the adults interact.
***
“How ‘bout the shows in Florida? Wine?” Jin pours him a glass even before Kame can reply.
He swirls his glass a bit, the wine has a nice color. Kame sips before continuing, “Everything’s fine there. Good to go. Kitamura was a great help. Do you remember him? Nice guy.”
“Was he the former manager of Tokio? The one with the mole?”
“Kinki Kids but yeah, he’s that one. This salmon is amazing, Erika.” Kame raises his glass to her and she raises hers in return.
“Thanks, it's my best friend’s recipe. I’m a disaster in the kitchen.” She shakes head, hiding her amused smile behind her hand.
“She is.” Jin laughs and Erika slaps his shoulder. “What? You are!” And Kame joins in the laughter.
***
“Oh by the way,” Erika puts her fork down, eyes on Kame, “I know you’re with AEG Live already but do you still need assistance with the ads? Our firm can give you a hand. We’re still a small company but we have the right connections.”
Kame blinks, for a second he’s worried but recovers. He smiles a little, “Thank you for the offer. I’d really love to but unfortunately the contract is set and blood was shed already. And I guess you know how these promoters work.”
Erika laughs, “It’s fine.” She raises her palms as she shakes her head a little. “Can’t blame me for trying my luck. Working with AEG would do us good.”
“I’ll put a good word for you. If not this one, another tour is already planned out for next year and I’ll make sure you’ll be working with us then.”
“You don’t have to do that but thank you.”
Kame glances at Jin and the other just smiles at him. He then takes that as an opportunity, “How about you? How’s work?”
Jin pushes the empty pasta bowl away from him and props his elbow over the edge of the table, and rests his chin on the pad of his knuckles, “Work’s picking up in the studio. You don’t have any idea of how many aspiring artists there are in this city alone. And oh, that reminds me,” He turns to Erika, “the school gave me two additional night classes.”
Erika tucks her hair behind her ear. “Starting when?”
“Next week. Wednesdays and Saturday nights.”
“Oh. That’s a lot of hours.” Erika blinks and pales from what Kame thinks is worry.
Kame ducks his head and diverts his attention to the salmon, taking note of the pecan crust and how nice the texture is. Baking must be Erika’s expertise.
“It’s okay,” Jin smiles and raises his thumb. “We’ll be getting a new sound technician at the studio.”
“Oh. Alright then.” Erika exhales and breaks into a lovely smile.
Kame finishes off his pesto. The mint-tangy taste of the herbs in the pesto and the sweetness of wine blends perfectly. He feels his senses heighten.
He wipes his mouth and finally looks up; he hopes his tone won’t betray him. “You both have fulltime jobs, Jin even has two. I hope you’re not stressing yourselves.”
Jin looks at him. Christmas lights blinking, bursting in technicolor. “I love what I’m doing. Writing music, helping people do their music. Doesn’t pay much but I love it. So is teaching,” He laughs a bit, almost like giggle, hiding his amused red face behind his palms, “Never thought I’d be teacher but hey, I like it. Japanese is cool. People like to learn our language. And that pays well.”
Erika lowers her head and smiles at herself, “Thanks for worrying about us but we’re fine.” She raises her head and looks at Kame, her heart on her sleeve - stitched with red thread, details in bold and Kame understands.
“I love what I’m doing too. I can’t stand being at home and doing nothing. I want to be in the office, working, dealing with clients. Sounds weird, but I like getting tired because I like the feeling of wanting to go home and be with my family.”
Kame wants to tap his foot, loud and strong. He rakes his fingers through his hair instead, letting his stress untangle too. He smiles at Jin. He smiles at Erika. He props his elbow on the table and rests his head on his hand. “I understand. I know. You two look happy.”
He feels light and restless at the same time. He wants to argue but he cannot and should not. Everything looks, smells and even tastes nice. It is not his place to....
“I agree with Kamenashi-san.” Aiko cold voice cuts through the atmosphere.
“Mum, you’re pregnant. You shouldn’t work much anymore.”
Kame tries to meet Erika’s eyes, tries to even out his voice, to not croak, to speak with as much confidence as he can muster, to not cry and bleed. His hands tremble when he grabs the napkin and clutches it hard. “…You are?”
Erika pales further, avoiding Kame’s eyes too. “I - ”
“She is.” Jin answers, a visibly tense hand massaging the ridge of his nose. “She is.”
She is. She is. Kame repeats it in his head, thinking that maybe the implication would die down as he gets used to the idea. He remains smiling as he tries to breathe normally and tries not to think much.
Kame runs his hands over his thighs, over the rough texture of his jeans. He wants to feel that tingling sensation over his palms again, to lose himself with the drop of pleasure he gets from it. He runs his palms over his jeans, searching for friction and warmth.
Aiko blinks and just observes the three of them.
After a moment of silence, Kame finally presses his hands together under the table and smiles at them. “Congratulations then.”
Erika raises her head to meet his eyes, she opens her mouth, hesitation flashes across her face and eventually she closes her mouth but keeps her eyes fixed on him.
“Well, you have to listen to Aiko. Don’t stress too much, Erika.” He smiles and doesn’t say anything anymore.
Aiko finishes off her salmon and frowns. Kame catches her gaze and he smiles at her, his heart is heavy and ready to burst, and she smiles back, a bit hesitant and stiff but the act itself is enough for Kame and he doesn’t regret this. He doesn't.
***
The whole house is quiet and the lights are out but Kame’s up. He’s standing by Aiko’s open door, watching her sleep and his cold hands are buried in his pockets.
Her room isn’t pink, yellow or baby blue; it’s white with green curtains, mismatched furniture and it’s a bit messy and with so much character. She sleeps on the top bunk; red-checkered duvet covers pulled up to her chin. The bottom bunk is full of books and teddy bears and other trinkets.
She has a red lava lamp and Kame thinks she’s too mature for a nine year old.
Kame doesn’t move when he hears footsteps and doesn’t say anything when he feels someone standing behind him.
“We were going to tell you. I’m sorry you have to know it from Aiko,” she pauses, “…from all people. ” Erika voice sounds so small he thinks she’ll break soon.
Kame refuse to face her, instead he rests his head against the doorframe. “…what do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know,” she whispers.
Kame wants to sleep, curl up in bed and dream. He sighs softly. He feels cold; he trembles. He doesn’t take his eyes off the sleeping form of Aiko.
“Please don’t take her away.” Erika whispers again, and her tone tugs at Kame’s heartstrings.
He finally turns to her.
He sees her big, dark eyes that say a thousand words. She’s strong or at least trying to be. She’s a mother. She has to do it and Kame understands where she’s coming from.
“We love Aiko. I love her. She’s my daughter.” She finally breaks but she wipes her tears immediately. “Please,” she pleads.
Truth to be told, Kame wants to cry with her. Everything is just as painful and confusing as it was years ago. There is a heavy, almost unbearable tug on his chest and his thoughts are running, overlapping, blurring. He thought it had been the right decision, the right choice, the only thing to do, and now... now he was not sure.
His head feels light, it’s like he’s floating and there’s fog everywhere. Everything seems to be a dream, and the promise of morning seems to be farfetched.
There is a sudden movement at the end of the corridor. Kame looks past her and sees Jin walking towards them.
Kame stands straight and glances back at Erika, smiling. “Don’t be like this. Stress won’t do anything good to the baby.”
“Erika, go back to our room. Go and sleep.” Jin touches her shoulder.
“But - ”
Jin squeezes her shoulder, “Just go. This is between the two of us.”
Jin raises his head and Kame stares back.
“No. Aiko’s my daughter too.” She moves forward. “She’s my daughter.” She repeats, her eyes narrowing as she looks at Kame, fists trembling slightly.
Kame shakes his head, closes his eyes again. He feels the tension, it threads through the air, weaving such an ominous atmosphere. It’s too much.
He looks at the both of them, unblinking. “We’ll wake her up if we stay here.” He bites his inner cheek as he walks past them.
***
Wicker chairs are more comfortable than what Kame had initially thought. He curls up in one and closes his eyes. This is a really nice neighborhood. Barely a minute past midnight but the street is still and quiet already.
He’s on the deck at the back of the house. The wood isn’t creaking and seats are clean and neat. It overlooks a small backyard. The sky is clear and Kame thinks this is a good place to have barbeques.
Kame intends to sleep, to just shut off then and there, to shut out the world, to forget about everything for the meantime and deal with it tomorrow. Tomorrow when he might have the strength to do what he has to do.
Unfortunately, the slide door opens and consciousness suddenly kicks in.
“Kame?” Jin’s voice has always been that raspy during the night because he tends to overuse it during the day. Kame weakens as memories that are supposed to be buried and locked away are slowly coming back to life before him.
With a great effort, he slowly opens his eyes but doesn’t move from his chair.
“Are you awake?”
“…Yeah.”
Jin walks towards the railing in front of Kame and leans against it. “Talk to me.”
Kame squints. He can’t see his face. The other is standing against the faint moonlight, his silhouette is soft and he seems like a ghost, something intangible. Something unreachable; like he has always been.
Kame smiles as he turns his head sideways and murmurs against the cushion, “I’m sleepy. But the bed is too soft. I want a futon.” Kame moves a bit and tucks his legs under him. He touches his hair and remembers he didn’t bring his shampoo with him. Kame grunts softly, and for a second he wants to go back to Japan so bad.
“Kame.” Jin repeats and Kame can almost feel Jin’s pain.
Kame frowns as he forces himself to sit straight. He likes the tranquility from a while ago, but now, it suffocates him. “What do you want me to say?”
Jin lets a small growl as he rubs his hands on his face, hard. He then slumps against the railing and Kame cringes when Jin hits the floor. The other leans his head against the railing, his eyes on the sky. Even with such a dejected, mournful look, Jin is still achingly beautiful. Still. That is another thing that has never changed.
Kame feels his resolution dying and his defense of calm indifference is crumbling down, one brick at a time. No amount of cement can make him blind and numb.
“Don’t do this Kame.” Jin’s voice is strained.
“Do what? I’m not even talking.”
“Look,” Jin sits straight, eyes on Kame, “We really planned to tell you. We never stopped trying to have a baby. Never stop seeing doctors. And see, it finally pays off. Erika’s three months pregnant. And we’re happy. Don’t get us wrong. We love Aiko. Aiko is our daughter. We… just want to have our own.”
“She’s my daughter too, Jin.” Kame stops himself, fights to keep the words inside him. He can’t do this. He covers his eyes with his palm.
“No. Kame, no. She isn’t yours anymore. You’ve signed the papers. She’s ours.”
Kame laughs - bitter, light and painful in the cheeks, “What is she, a thing? And we’re simply arguing about who owns her?” He grips the armrest hard as he heaves deep.
“Aiko is not thing, not a possession Jin. She’s my daughter. She’s your daughter.”
“But we broke up!” Jin is shaking but not from anger; he is pale and trembling.
“Yes we did.” Kame starts out, slowly. He evens out his breathing, his emotions blurring the edge of his logic. “And you found yourself a very lovely wife and you married her. But Erika can’t have kids. Well,” he snorts, hurt taking over, ‘Well, at least at that the time she can’t.” Jin groans at that but Kame ignores him, “And you called me up and said you want to be happy. You asked me. So I signed the papers.”
Jin spat, “Don’t make it look like you’re the one who sacrificed everything.”
Kame laughs again, high pitched and scornful. He narrows his eyes at the other and that says it all. Sacrificed everything, Jin? Who sacrificed everything they held dear? Which of the two of us has what they dreamed of?
Jin shakes his head in exasperation. “God, Kame. I knew that you coming here for a visit won’t do any good.”
“Is it so bad to want to check on my daughter once in a while?”
Jin keeps silent, eyes still closed; a small sigh escapes from his pale lips.
Kame leans back, tense fingers making circular motions on the armrest, “Of course, it’s a bad idea,” Kame snorts, “You forgot to tell me that Erika can have kids now.” He eyes shot daggers at Jin shining with other unsaid accusations as his nerves pulled taut.
Jin springs up, and strides forward until he is mere inches from the wicker chair. “No. Don’t ruin us. Her. She’s nine years old already! Don’t ruin our family.”
Hot. The air has gotten thicker and Kame can’t breathe. Jin stares at him and the way his eyes accuse him of so much pain and so many mistakes in the past slices through the air - a jagged cut that severs through the heavy atmosphere and makes Kame’s chest tighten. It hurts to hear Jin claim a family that does not include him, even though he logically knows he has one.
“She doesn’t know she’s adopted. What’ll you do? Drag her back to Japan? Tell her that her Dad’s gay? That she was adopted by her Dad and his ex-boyfriend?”
Kame closes his eyes for moment, hands playing with edge of his shirt, a small wry smile on his face. Silence stretches on before he raises his head and meets the eyes of the other, “You regret that? You’re ashamed of that? You’re ashamed of us?”
Jin shakes his head as he steps backward. “God. I can’t do this, Kame. I really can’t.” Jin covers his eyes with his arm as he stands there.
Kame continues playing with the edge of his shirt, tracing his fingers at the seams, noting it’s rough texture. “Why didn’t you tell me that she’s dyslexic?” he whispers and he hears his own voice shaking.
Jin lowers his arm and looks at him. Jin blinks, as if trying to collect his thoughts, looking for common ground between them. “We were settled here already when she was diagnosed.”
“When?”
“Preschool.”
Kame bends over and buries his head in his hands.
Jin sits down on the other wicker chair. “We thought she was just a slow reader. Her teacher thought otherwise.”
Kame straightens up and turns to the man at his side, eyes on Jin. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Kame asks quietly.
“We’re settled here then. And for what?”
“Shit, Jin. Preschool? That’s just a year after you moved here. And for Christ’s sake, signed papers or not, she’s my daughter.” Kame grips the armrests tight, his knuckles white.
Kame stares at him, waiting for a bitter rebuttal but Jin just leans back and remains silent.
“I could have helped if you’re having money problems.”
“What?” Kame is hurt to see such a disgusted look on Jin’s face. “We don’t need your money. I can properly provide for my family. I might not be as well-off as before but I - ”
“Bullshit, Jin. Bullshit. Aiko has dyslexia! And she’s studying in a public school! She doesn’t even have a tutor! I saw her reading her math book!”
“She’s good. She’s not behind her class. Erika and I are helping her. She doesn’t need a stranger to help her!”
“You two work fulltime. She needs professional help. Why can’t you just admit that you can’t afford it? Your pride will not do you any good!”
Jin stands up and kicks the wicker chair backwards. Kame flinches at that. He looks up, only to see Jin look away and bury his face in his palms. “I’m sorry about that.” Jin murmurs.
He paces for a good minute and Kame just watches him. The calm, blissful Jin he saw earlier that evening is gone. This is the man he left years ago. This is the pained, broken man he never wants to see ever again. This is the pained, broken man who had been the reason behind his choice to stay behind, to stay apart, to let him go, to set him free. This was the man who should no longer be able to exist. This man... his heart aches at the unfairness.
Kame stays in the wicker chair and tries so hard to tune out from the world, to be numb and drift off and never come back.
“We have money. Aiko has a trust fund.”
His desire is short-lived. Kame removes himself from his cocoon and before he can stop himself, he laughs. He hears the bitterness in his voice, but Jin does not.
“Yeah, of course you have. You have enough to make your house over in matching yellows and blues. To have fresh flowers on your dining table every day. To go to the doctors every week so that your wife can become pregnant.”
Jin stops pacing. “Don’t you dare talk about Erika like that! You don’t know her!”
Kame lets out a loud tsk, “I’ve nothing against Erika. All I care about is Aiko.”
“No.” Jin seethes but Kame doesn’t flinches. “I won’t let you take her away from us.”
“Jin! Are you listening to me? Do you ever?” Kame cannot take it anymore. He rises and walks past the other. “You always jump to conclusion.” He leans against the railing - weight shifting, balancing, eyes a bit blurry and almost dizzy - as he faces the other again, “Did I ever say I’ll take her to Japan?”
Jin rakes his hand through his hair, wariness apparent. “God, Kame. I’m so tired.”
Kame closes his eyes. “Enroll her in a special school next term.”
“I don’t need your help. Don’t order me around.”
“Shit, Jin. Shut up. I’m not doing this for you.” Kame grips the railing to stop himself from hurling himself at the other, the urge to lessen internal pain through violence mounting inside him.
“I will put her in a nice, fancy school, but I don’t need your money.”
Kame turns his back to Jin and leans over the railing again. A small sigh escapes from him as he stretches, arms above his head.
Kame smiles. That will do. Jin’s stubbornness has died down a little over the years.
There is a sudden breeze and Kame feels lightheaded. His skin tingles and he unconsciously hugs himself, his rough palms rubbing his arms. He hears Jin sigh softly and the tension is gone.
Kame is gathering his thoughts, calming his nerves and weighing his options as he drowns himself in the smell of the grass and cool night air. Jin lingers at the other end of the deck and Kame tries to tune out. He fancies himself alone in his apartment and not here, across the world with a decade’s worth of pain slowly sketching it’s ugly form before him.
“Why did you come?” He feels Jin standing behind him. He can’t delude himself that they are back in Japan, standing in the veranda of their little apartment. The air here is light, almost chilling. No nostalgia. Nothing familiar. It almost irritates him.
“I wanted to see Aiko.”
“Do you regret it?”
Kame faces Jin, genuinely confused, “Regret what?”
“Breaking up with me?”
Kame laughs, short and sharp, “We’re not going there, Jin. It’s been years.”
“You started this. You asked this first. So you do regret.”
“Jin, no. Stop. We will not talk about that.” Static noise buzzing in his ears, he feels his throat burning. He wants to scratch his skin hard, leaving red, angry marks to keep himself focused, to not drift off and lose himself within the waves of emotions.
“Why are you running away? Just admit that you regret breaking up with me. You said it yourself. You deserve happiness. That means you’re not happy. That’s it, right?
“No, Jin. No. You’re wrong. I don’t regret it. Look at us right now. Arguing and fighting. It’s always like this. Always.” Kame clicks his tongue. He tastes bitterness. “Why are we even talking about this?”
“So you regret loving me?” Jin looks so tired and weary, roughed up by life. Jin has lost the raw, innocent optimism that Kame fell in love with.
“Never. I don’t regret breaking up with you and at the same time I will never, ever regret loving you and sharing my life with you. I loved you. And I really did.” He pauses, his expression tired, “Can we end this conversation? I’ll go to sleep now.”
He has his eyes closed when he walks past Jin. A second longer and he knows he’ll say things he shouldn’t. He doesn’t regret things and he doesn’t want to do or say anything he is positive he will regret when the morning comes and reality rises from the dark pit between them.
“Why did we have to break up then?”
And with that question alone, spoken in such a wounded manner, with that raspy voice that tells years of woven memories, tales of great loves and missed chances, Kame gives up and lets his mask wither away. “What is this all about Jin?”
Kame chokes as he sees Jin so small and broken. The other’s eyes glisten with unshed tears and overlapping emotions. Jin has always been transparent and Kame wants to whimper. He doesn’t want Jin to be like this. Jin is strong and doesn’t plead. Jin has his pride.
“I - Just say it. Just say you want me again. I can leave all of this Kame. I - ”
“No. You have a wife.” He strides towards him and closes the gap.
“You love her.” Kame says softly, each word leaving a bruise behind as he forces them out. “I saw it. I felt it. When you both came to talk to me about Aiko, I saw it - I… you two are meant for each other. Even now, she’s lovely Jin.”
Jin steps back and looks away, fists at his sides.
“Erika is beautiful and smart. She has the stability that you need. I cannot and will never be able to provide that sense of stability.” Kame bites his lip and he feels his blood rushing through him but his palms remain cold.
“And she’s pregnant.” The words spill so naturally without the bitter taste he’s expecting. “You will have beautiful children. Aren’t you happy with Erika?”
“I am. I love her. But you’re different.” Jin smiles at him, such a sad smile that pierces Kame, wounding him in various depths that even Kame isn’t aware he has.
“You’re Kazuya. My Kame. I never stopped believing in us. I loved you, Kame - No, love. Until now. Even now. You don’t believe that?”
There’s not a drop of hesitation on Jin’s voice and that makes it worse.
“I do. Aiko’s the proof of that. One point of our life, we sincerely believed that we could build our own family. That love is all we need. During that time, it was real. And I had never been happier.” He looks at Jin and, just once he’ll admit it to himself, he wants to embrace the other and just remember what it feels to be his again.
“But that’s not enough. We can go on forever loving each other but we cannot be together. We are simply not meant for each other. It’s too much. Too strong. We can’t balance out. We suffocate each other. We go crazy. We lose ourselves. We just can’t, Jin.”
“I don’t understand you.”
“I don’t either. We are not supposed to understand these things. But I know you understand where I’m coming from. We had been together for such a long time and we just always end up hurting each other. Over and over and over again. We’re better off this way. Look at you. You look so happy and satisfied with your life here. And seeing you again made me realize that letting you go is one of the best decisions I ever made.”
Jin turns his head away and immediately wipes a lone teardrop. Kame aches for him, for them.
They stand there, a foot away from each other. Jin’s eyes are downcast while Kame looses himself with the view of the endless clear night sky.
They let the silence comfort their broken selves.
“And you?”
“I’m happy. Satisfied with everything.” Kame smiles at him.
“I don’t believe you but I don’t want to argue with you anymore.” Jin massages the ridge of his nose as he heaves a sigh, “You always manage to stir me up. I - ”
“Enough, Jin. Please.”
Jin looks at him and Kame holds his gaze. Words remain unsaid and emotions are set aside permanently, too deeply felt to be acknowledged.
“What time is your flight tomorrow? I’ll drive you to the airport.”
“No need. I’ll call a cab.”
“Good night, Kame.” Jin doesn’t say anything more. He walks away, leaving Kame alone in the deck.
“Good night, Jin.” Kame whispers to the dark.
***
It didn’t rain last night but as the air breeze through the open door, it seems like it did as Kame can feel the soft morning dew on his skin. The air is cold, tingling almost, and he feels light, ready to face the world.
“You’re going already?”
Kame turns around and sees Aiko at the bottom of the stairs, still in her pajamas, hands rubbing her eyes. It’s a scene pulled out of a TV drama and with the morning breeze's gentle touch, Kame knows that this will be great day.
“Yeah. I have an early flight.” Kame drops his bag at the floor and walks towards her.
Aiko frowns as she meets him half-way, “When are you gonna visit again?”
Before Kame can even lie to her, a soft voice answers for him, “Soon.” Kame raises his head and sees Erika standing by the end of the hallway.
Wearing a printed, long sleeved summer dress, Erika shines. For him, she is untainted; there is no scar of lost love in her. There is an evident undoubting optimism and raw fierceness around her and Kame will do everything he can to preserve that beauty of hers.
For a moment, their eyes meet and Kame knows he made the right decision.
“Yeah, soon.” Kame repeats for Aiko, assuring the child and himself.
Erika’s dress flutters as she moves. Even with an intimidating bob cut, she manages to look pristine, immaculate like the Virgin. As soon as she reaches them, she places her hand over Aiko’s head, fingers playing with the child’s hair.
“Are you sure you don’t want to eat breakfast?”
“I’m fine. Thank you. The cab is already outside.”
Erika sighs softly, “Alright then.”
Kame smiles at her, gathers up his courage and says the line in his head a dozen time before parting his lips. With each syllable a part of him dies, “I wish you’ll have a healthy baby.”
Erika brightens; her eyes wet from unshed tears. Without a flash of hesitation, she moves to hug him, her hands tight around him, trembling, “Thank you.” Kame can only hug her back, drowning in her warmth.
“Hey, Dad. Morning.”
When Erika pulls away from Kame, Jin is already at the side of Aiko, all dressed up for the day.
Last night’s tension seems like a dream, a blotch to this wonderful utopia. Jin’s smile is big, bright and beautiful, without a trace of yesterday’s bitterness. “Hey, sweetie.”
“Oh. You’re off to work already?” Erika asks.
“Ah yeah. I need to check some things at the studio before I go to the school. I have a long day.” He pauses and faces Kame, “Can you drop me off at the studio? It’s along the way.”
Kame gambles a glance in Erika's direction. She seems to be unmindful of what the other just said. “…Yeah sure.”
The cab then honks and Kame feels the time slipping away.
He looks at Aiko, his heart beating a familiar tempo. He breathes, deep, before crouching down to her level - just for once, he wants to treat her like a child, his child.
“Hey. Do you know the meaning of your name?”
Aiko blinks. “Child of love,” she answers, direct and without hesitation.
“Correct.” Kame reaches to cup her cheeks. He can’t explain the sudden relief that washes over him when she doesn't flinch from his touch.
“You are a loved child. Never forget that.”
Aiko holds his gaze for a moment.
“I’ll see you soon.” Kame whispers, voice raspy, shaking and almost breaking.
Aiko slowly clutches a part of his shirt and nods.
***
Kame’s pale fingers drum against the window glass. Its cold surface keeping him awake and the beats blend with the song from the radio.
Tip Tap Tip Tap Tap Tap Tip
The view outside is a mere streak of colors and light, blurring with the tinge of sunlight seeping through the window.
Kame sighs softly as he turns to look at Jin at front. All he can see is the back of Jin’s head - a mess of familiar black hair. Even his scent is distinct and strong. It doesn’t change and Kame wonders if it ever will.
Kame’s hand falls at his side, he has lost his rhythm, and finally closes his tired eyes.
Ten more minutes into the silence and Kame is almost asleep.
“Hey, can you pull over there? At the corner?” Jin’s soft voice wakes him up. He slowly opens his eyes and let them wander to the street outside.
“Kazuya.”
Kame rests his forehead against the window; his eyes fix on the bagel shop across the road. People flock around it, hoping to grab a quick breakfast.
People outside are busy and the world is spinning. The world doesn’t wait for anyone. Time keeps up with change. With one blink, you could have missed your chance of a lifetime. Kame gathers his hands together and clasps it tight; his pulse beating hard against his skin.
“Be happy.” Jin finally says.
Kame closes his eyes, a small smile on his lips. “I am happy.”
Kame waits, silence stretches on.
“Then be happier.”
There is a movement and before Kame can even wipe his lone teardrop, he hears the door open and Jin is gone.
Kame opens his eyes, sunlight momentarily blinding him, and sees the driver looking at him through the mirror.
He smiles at him, “Airport please.”
***
Kame finally stands when he hears the PA system announcing his flight. He stretches a bit as he walks, arms over his head, one elbow bent in an attempt to relax his strained muscles.
He runs his rough palm over his other arm, putting pressure as it trails up and down, massaging it, hoping it’ll at least lessen its stress and his weariness.
He silently whistles as people around him walk briskly, heading to their own flights, specific destinations in mind. There is a melody playing in his head and his mind works overtime to catch up with the beat and rhythm so he can at least whistle it.
He should be used to this already but he still feels uncomfortable as people around him rush in different directions and their mangled voices mix into a static noise that washes over his ears. Some bump into him but only few care to offer a quick apology. This time he at least tries to be sincere when he says “It’s alright.”
He takes his time trailing after a small crowd, one hand inside his pocket, the other clutching his ticket and passport. He doesn’t keep up with the pace of everyone else. He slows down as he tries to clear his mind and tries to concentrate on the melody playing repeatedly in his mind instead.
“Oh Jiro. Oh God, JIRO Don’t run! Don’t run!”
Kame whips around and sees a boy running in his direction. He blinks as the boy halts in front him, the child’s big, almost expectant eyes on him.
“Mister, I’m sorry for bumping you yesterday.” The boy bows down and Kame chuckles.
“Jiro!” Kame raises his head and sees the woman sprinting towards them.
“Oh dear. I - I’m sorry.” She wipes her face as she tries to even out her breathing, her other hand over her chest. “He… he just ran after you when he saw you pass by. I -"
“It’s okay.” Kame’s heart swells a bit. “He’s a very polite child.”
The woman blinks and bites her lower lip before nodding. Kame almost laughs when she flushes again. The crimson color of her face is in great contrast with her fair, yellowish complexion.
Kame looks down at the boy and the other nods at him with a funny, serious expression on his face. Kame chuckles as he turns to the woman.
“I’m Kamenashi Kazuya by the way.” Kame offers his hand.
She blinks, blushes a deeper red and looks at him, apparently confused with the whole deal. He smiles at her, hoping that this time it’ll convince her that they can both be mere strangers, meeting accidentally in an airport.
After a moment of silence, which Kame finds amusing rather than awkward, she finally reaches out and takes his hand. “Oikawa Kana. And this is my son, Jiro.” Her soft palm is warm against his and Kame thinks she glows just a bit as she smiles.
“Nice to meet you.” Kame decides that today will be a great day.
END