Shinjûmono [心中物] ACT 1
Title: Shinjûmono [心中物]
Category: Jpop (KAT-TUN)
Pairing: Jin/Kame
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 13,500
Summary: Times change, and people change with them. They're friends, but Kame figures that they're grown friends; grown up and apart. The common tragedy of adulthood.
Notes: Shinjûmono are stories (traditionally plays in kabuki or puppet theatre) that focus on double suicide between lovers.
Act 1
"Kamenashi, what do you think?"
He flips a page, eyes skimming methodically over the script while his head is slightly tilted in thought, and he wonders: Am I really suited for this kind of role? He banishes the thought almost immediately. It doesn't matter whether or not he's suited for the character role because it's his, regardless, and he'll make ends meet somehow. Kamenashi Kazuya will be whatever he is required to be.
"Kamenashi?"
"It's very romantic," he replies in a languid, considering tone, speaking only the truth. The drama is about a pair of lovers who committed suicide together, and their reincarnations meet again in the modern world. However, while following their current lives it is revealed that their situations and even personalities are nothing like their past selves, and there will be a number of extended flashbacks throughout the series that flesh out the previous incarnations. The main leads will need to portray both their past and present characters, and somehow convey the fact that these vastly different personalities are still the same soul.
"The role sounds like a challenging one," Kame continues, thumbing through more pages without actually paying much attention to the content. Tokyo Shinju is a love story, and love stories are nothing new. He's been born, fallen in love, and died on screen numerous times. He's lived numerous lives. Two at once should be easy, then. Nothing to worry about, he thinks, tucking the packet under his arm and presenting a smile, charming and boyish all at once.
"I'm looking forward to it."
* * * * *
Of course KAT-TUN is doing the theme song, and there's talk of making two versions of the promotional video - one with the boys and one with scenes from the drama. All of the hype is making Kame nervous, not that he would admit it. The ratings for his dramas have been rising at last after the gut-wrenching period when they plummeted, and he's clearly back in favor again. He's determined not to be anything less than perfect this time.
Kame checks his watch as the meeting comes to an end, out of habit more than need or curiosity. He glances up at the other members, who are yawning and stretching and complaining about how boring these things are.
"I could be sleeping right now," Koki laments, sprawling back in his chair with his arms dangling. To Koki's right, Jin sits with his arms crossed and his chin tucked down, looking like he really did fall asleep.
"Or eating. It's lunchtime," Nakamaru points out. "Anyone want to go grab something?"
"Your treat?" Ueda asks slyly, and everyone perks up at the idea of a free meal; Taguchi's face brightens and even Jin cracks an eye open in interest.
"Hell, no." Nakamaru is immediately met with a chorus of boo's and accusations of being a cheapskate, but as far as arguments go, this one doesn't last long. "You all pay for yourselves!"
"Kame?" Someone gives Kame's shoulder a light punch - probably Koki, judging by the closeness of his voice.
"Can't," he says, glancing down at his planner, though he already knows his schedule for the day down to the last minute. "I have another meeting."
The decline surprises no one, not during this time of the year. Still, Nakamaru offers, "We're recording the song later, you want me to bring you something then?"
Kame allows a small grin. "I can feed myself, you know." He doesn't look up to see if anyone is wearing a skeptical expression. It doesn't matter because no one argues, and he feels some relief once the others finally leave. He pulls a folded sheet of paper out - the lyrics to the theme song, which he hasn't gotten a chance to really look at yet.
There is a single solo line at the very end of the song once the chorus is supposed to trail off: "may you and I be reborn on the same lotus." Kame gets that line, naturally, and almost without knowing his lips move to recite it aloud.
He jumps in his seat when he hears a voice comment, "You like that part?"
Kame turns around. Jin hasn't moved; arms still crossed, slouching in his chair, and his eyes are closed again. Despite the question, he appears unconcerned with the answer.
"It's fitting," Kame replies, adopting a bland tone to match Jin's indifference.
"Of course it's fitting, it's for a drama about love suicide," Jin points out with a hint of disgust - and Kame doesn't know how he can sound personally offended and look completely apathetic at the same time, but he supposes that's Jin for you.
Then Kame skims over the sheet again and his gaze catches on the name of the lyricist, written in English. A thought occurs to him and for a second, his mind goes blank. With trepidation, as if expecting not only to be wrong, but to get burned for it, he asks, "Jin, did you write this?"
"Yeah."
"Under a penname?"
"Yeah."
"Oh." It feels like one of those horrible moments when he's put on the spot and can't handle himself gracefully to save his life. They're few and far between these days, but that only makes them more humiliating. "I really like it-"
"Bullshit, you just said it was 'fitting'." Jin raises his voice loftily at the end and all pretense of apathy is gone.
Kame finds himself smiling a little at Jin's childish disgruntlement. Some things never change. "It is, and that's why I like it. The theme is very moving and the words convey that perfectly. Timeless is a great song for the drama. Thank you." He's not sure why he's thanking Jin - it's a business arrangement, nothing more. That much is apparent in the use of a penname so that they won't be linked together. It's unusual of Jin, actually, who has never bothered to hide behind a different name before (has never wanted to, and is probably incapable of being something he isn't), and Kame wonders with some disquiet about the uncharacteristic decision. Perhaps he could be over-thinking things. They're friends, but Kame figures that they're grown friends; grown up and apart. The common tragedy of adulthood.
In the meantime, Jin is still looking at him, not quite convinced, so Kame arches his brows with significance and adds, "I was shocked at first. After all, there aren't any dirty English lyrics."
"Those were only a couple songs!" Jin protests with a burst of indignation. "And they weren't crude or anything."
"LOVEJUICE?"
"It was poetic, you have no idea."
"You're disgusting, Akanishi." Kame shakes his head, but laughs while he says it to take the edge off, and he's surprised by how happy and young his laughter sounds in his own ears.
Jin looks torn between a grin and a pout, but doesn't get a chance to reply before Kame gets up and collects his belongings. There's still some time to spare, but suddenly he wants to get moving. He can always put that time to better use. When he's about ready to leave, Jin has returned to looking bored. They're both like this, shifting moods easily, trying to shift around each other. Sometimes they're volatile, sometimes they're cold, and sometimes they're just awkward. Kame isn't sure if they've gotten better with age and experience, or just accustomed.
"I'll be sure to sing the song really well," Kame says in lame parting. It's difficult to be earnest when Jin doesn't appear to be paying attention.
"Of course," is all Jin says in response, and it isn't an arrogant rejoinder at all. He sounds expectant, but unenthused.
There is a brief moment when Kame considers asking Jin if he remembers something, a silly make-believe game from years ago. That's another reason why Kame likes the song, because it evokes a hazy childhood memory, the nostalgic past, but maybe only to him.
Kame lifts a hand to wave goodbye and turns his back. Jin wouldn't remember something like that. Kame can barely remember it himself.
* * * * *
The stars look different in the countryside than they do in the city. They're brighter, billions of them, like someone unrolled a map of constellations to cover the length and breadth of clear sky. Jin and Kame lie on their backs, lazily pointing out ones they recognize and some that they make up, arguing halfheartedly over ambiguous shapes and the stories that go along with them. They're young and dreaming of being stars themselves one day, with their own legends, so that other people will also point and marvel.
"Ah," Kame catches his breath as a streak of moving light draws his eye before disappearing from view.
"What is it?" Jin asks in a sleepy-sounding drawl.
"...Nothing," he mumbles, disappointed that Jin didn't see the shooting star, and kind of annoyed, too. Should he make a wish anyway?
"Hey," Jin says, interrupting Kame's internal wish-making. "We should do this again some time."
"Sure," Kame readily agrees, embarrassingly pleased with the idea, already calculating when they might have another vacation.
"In a year," Jin figures confidently. "Or five years. Do you think we'll be famous in five years? Maybe it should be ten."
Ten years is a long time, Kame thinks. "It might as well be fifty," he sighs, exhaling his disappointment. Jin only laughs.
"Fifty? We'll be old by then! I don't want that!"
Truthfully, Kame can't even imagine it - them being old. He can hardly see beyond the endless hours, days, and weeks of training. Dance practice, singing lessons, and baseball when he has time for it. He doesn't have much time for it anymore. Kame doesn't even think before he finds himself saying, "Then how about this. In five hundred years-" Jin can barely hold in his laughter. "Listen! In five hundred years, we can be born again. You and me. We'll meet each other and see the stars again."
"In the next life, huh..."
Jin trails off and a dead silence settles over them. Kame scrambles to say something or make a joke, but the words get stuck in his throat. He hadn't meant much by throwing out that silly idea, but he wishes, suddenly and fervently and perhaps stupidly, to meet Jin again in his next life.
"Okay!" Jin confirms, startlingly loud in the indolent atmosphere, and Kame turns his wide-eyed gaze on him. The grass rustles as Jin sits up and leans over Kame, features vague in the darkness but his grin still wide. "Five hundred years it is. It'll be fun."
Kame is still staring, blanketed in Jin's shadow. He can see Jin's form outlined by stars while the moon hangs round and pale over his shoulder.
"Yeah," Kame agrees faintly, wondering how much different the world will look by then.
* * * * *
"Jin? Hellooo, are you listening?"
Jin readjusts his grip on the phone, angling it more firmly against his ear. "Sorry, Pi," he says, propping both elbows on the railing of the balcony. A breeze whips through the night air, carrying away the trail of smoke from his cigarette. "Long day at work, you know."
"Go to sleep then," Yamapi replies casually, knowing full well that the suggestion won't be considered. They'll keep talking like this, lazy and rambling and pointless, laughing over shared jokes and complaining over shared grievances. Tomorrow's schedule might as well not exist. "And get your ass back indoors, I can barely hear you over the wind. Plus, you're going to catch a cold and be totally miserable, and then you'll bend my ear with your whining."
"It isn't that cold," Jin retorts. Summer is fading, but the briskness of autumn hasn't sharpened yet. He looks out across the sprawling cityscape, all lit up and bright; alive. Tilting his head back, he takes in the sky. The stars look tiny and dim compared to the sea of lights spread out below.
"Hey, Pi."
"Now what?" Judging by the exasperated sigh, Jin figures he interrupted him. Yamapi's tone accuses and forgives in practically the same instant.
"What would you want to do in your next life?" Jin asks straightforwardly, no explanation. With some people, it's not needed. Simplicity is underrated.
"That sounds like one of those retarded questions we're asked on interviews. 'If you weren't disgustingly rich and famous nationwide, would what you want to be?'" Yamapi mimics in a false, pitched tone.
Jin's lips quirk. "Pretty stupid, yeah." He takes one more drag of his cigarette before putting it out and flicking the ashen remains over the edge.
* * * * *
Sometimes - a lot of the time - Jin hates having so much history with Kame. Years drifting apart can change things, but never enough, and he's reminded whenever he looks at Kame these days. He's reminded because he notices what time can't change. Habits, nuances, little signs he recognizes fleetingly and reflectively that belong to an awkward boy, before they're obscured by the adult Jin barely knows (and doesn't particularly care to know, because Kame is the sort of adult that Jin can't stand).
They're filming Cartoon KAT-TUN today, and it's turning out to be a harrowing process. First there is a scheduling mishap somewhere along the line, which means everyone is rushed and mildly panicky and not sure exactly what's going on. Kame is actually late; he shows up without excuses or blame and shoulders the responsibility. He also bears the extra irritation, sharp and snappish. One look and they all dread putting up with him today.
Jin supposes he doesn't make things any better by complaining, "It's about time." But he's also unhurried as he uncurls his body and stretches, back arching before relaxing into a comfortable slouch while he walks towards the set.
It's sort of funny to nag at Kame of all people, and sort of terrible - not just because it's an asshole thing to do. Predictably, Kame goes tight-lipped and handles himself off-camera with razor-edged efficiency, like he has something to prove. In his mind, he probably does. On-camera, he smiles the winning, super idol smile, and the staff breathe a sigh of relief, like everything will be okay so long as Kame has it together.
Kame has it together the way he always does when he's this busy. He sleeps less, eats less, and only seems to find more work to do. It's so regular now, so expected, that nobody really pays attention.
Jin wishes he didn't notice, because all it seems to do is piss him off.
* * * * *
"Oh, for-" Jin stops in his tracks, patting down one pocket after another, coming up empty and hissing out between his teeth, "Shit."
He's missing his cell phone. It's late and he's just completed his part for the PV, so he'd like nothing more than to go home and crash, but the stupid phone is new. He'd spent most of the day playing with it (i.e. creeping Nakamaru out by sending weird texts before revealing himself as the unknown number).
Jin backtracks into the building again, heading for the dressing room and hoping that he left it there and not in the studio. He picks up on the sound of a lowered voice as he nears the door and pushes it open - but too late does Jin recognize the rising tone.
Kame doesn't even turn; he barely seems to acknowledge Jin as he lets his words trail off, flipping a page of the slightly battered script in his hands. Perhaps he's in one of his moods and is giving Jin the cold shoulder. He was normal enough during the shooting, maybe demanding a few more retakes and being a tiny bit forced into group interaction for the making-of, but still normal enough. He smiled and put up with the teasing, cracking back as best he could (which wasn't very well - it never is when he's trying not to mean it).
Then Kame comments without looking up: "I thought you were done."
Jin feels a flash of irritation and it shows on his face, which Kame can't see, but he must hear it in his tone. "Lost my phone. Seen it?" Jin casts about the room, cluttered with clothes and makeup and other things that are decidedly not his cell phone.
"Nope," Kame replies distractedly. "Did you leave it on-set?"
"Fuck, I hope not." Jin scans the table, scowling, and rifles through the area where his stuff was. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Kame study the script for another moment before lowering it and repeating his lines, changing the inflection. It's nothing unusual, but Jin's bothered by the process anyway. Maybe because of the way Kame has lost a noticeable amount of weight already when he didn't have much to spare to begin with.
Kame has no 'off' switch, or rather, he's unwilling to use it. Everything has to matter to him, every little thing, including every person he has to impress. Not to say that it doesn't pay off, but perhaps it does so a little too well. He's Kamenashi Kazuya and he's dedicating his life to anybody and everybody who will have him. He's loved for that, considered near and dear, and yet he's untouchable. Kame doesn't require anyone's concern and habitually rebuffs anything approaching it. The members are constantly stating it as his weakness, and that's when he'll humbly apologize and make an effort to open up, awkwardly and sometimes drastically in rare breaking-point bursts. But successful or not, it's always the impressive effort that people respond to.
Jin, though, is characterized by his effortlessness. He is never easily ignored, which means he's very, very good at making Kame open up to him. However, it's been a long time since that was a positive thing.
He's not really thinking his actions through when he ambles over and steals the script right out of Kame's startled hands.
"Jin!"
"What? I thought I'd help." He goes back to the door, kicking it shut and leaning against it, trapping them both inside. "Oh, this looks like a good scene."
Even Kame's most withering glare has ceased to intimidate him. When they were little, that poisonous look instantly confounded Jin since he usually had no idea what provoked it in the first place. Then he learned to recognize it as a warning sign, and quickly after that it only ignited his temper. Things changed again after L.A. - a long time after, because for a period things were quietly uneasy - and it wasn't a matter of Jin ignoring it so much as paying more attention. If Jin wanted to.
"This isn't a game. Give that back."
"I'll start with one of Harumi's lines, okay?"
"Akanishi-" Another changing thing, the name, and for just a second Jin hesitates. But only just.
"Or you could start. But it's supposed to be 'Saito-san'."
Kame looks angry enough to spit, and Jin doesn't have a good reason to be antagonizing him except that bullying his way into Kame's business has always been second nature. The rest is up to Kame.
"Saito-san," he says at last, eyes dangerously narrow, but his tone cools to a polite - downright chilly - degree. He even smiles a little, stiff at the corners, and perfectly in-character. Kame is either the world's best actor right now, or the worst. "I am sorry that you came all this way, but you are wasting your time as well as mine."
Jin skims the screenplay, making a lazy attempt to get in-character. He doesn't know anything about Harumi except that she's the reincarnation of an 18th century courtesan. "But I thought... You said you remembered. You told me about the trouble with your family back then, and about yourself, Saburo-"
"Kobayashi," Kame corrects, cutting the other off with a curt gesture. He's averting his gaze, distracted or unwilling to look 'Harumi' in the eye. "My name is Kobayashi Minoru. Please remember it."
"The forest," Jin half-pleads and half-accuses because it seems appropriate. He takes a few steps forward. "And the tolling of the bell. You remember that, don't you?"
Kame goes stock-still for just a moment, just enough to say Kobayashi does remember, and unhappily, but his shrug and reply are casually unaffected. "If you mean my death, then yes. It's not the sort of thing one looks back upon with warm feelings. A normal person would want to forget such a memory."
"But you didn't want to forget. You haven't forgotten, because we-"
"Oh, honestly," Kame goes tense and shoots Jin a sharp look. "This is beyond tiring. I accept that in my past life I was Saburo and that I was in love. I accept that I died for that love, hundreds of years ago. Times change - people change. I am no longer that same man. I have this life now, a life that has been perfectly fine without you in it. I have no desire to chase after the past, and in fact I am rather busy here in the present. Saito-san, I wish you luck in your own pursuits, but leave me out of them. Goodbye."
Kame abruptly brushes by, just like that, as written in the script. Jin starts after him, also according to the scripted actions, but he deviates in calling out, "Kame!" instead of the character name.
In-character or not, Kame ignores him.
Act 2
Category: Jpop (KAT-TUN)
Pairing: Jin/Kame
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 13,500
Summary: Times change, and people change with them. They're friends, but Kame figures that they're grown friends; grown up and apart. The common tragedy of adulthood.
Notes: Shinjûmono are stories (traditionally plays in kabuki or puppet theatre) that focus on double suicide between lovers.
Act 1
"Kamenashi, what do you think?"
He flips a page, eyes skimming methodically over the script while his head is slightly tilted in thought, and he wonders: Am I really suited for this kind of role? He banishes the thought almost immediately. It doesn't matter whether or not he's suited for the character role because it's his, regardless, and he'll make ends meet somehow. Kamenashi Kazuya will be whatever he is required to be.
"Kamenashi?"
"It's very romantic," he replies in a languid, considering tone, speaking only the truth. The drama is about a pair of lovers who committed suicide together, and their reincarnations meet again in the modern world. However, while following their current lives it is revealed that their situations and even personalities are nothing like their past selves, and there will be a number of extended flashbacks throughout the series that flesh out the previous incarnations. The main leads will need to portray both their past and present characters, and somehow convey the fact that these vastly different personalities are still the same soul.
"The role sounds like a challenging one," Kame continues, thumbing through more pages without actually paying much attention to the content. Tokyo Shinju is a love story, and love stories are nothing new. He's been born, fallen in love, and died on screen numerous times. He's lived numerous lives. Two at once should be easy, then. Nothing to worry about, he thinks, tucking the packet under his arm and presenting a smile, charming and boyish all at once.
"I'm looking forward to it."
* * * * *
Of course KAT-TUN is doing the theme song, and there's talk of making two versions of the promotional video - one with the boys and one with scenes from the drama. All of the hype is making Kame nervous, not that he would admit it. The ratings for his dramas have been rising at last after the gut-wrenching period when they plummeted, and he's clearly back in favor again. He's determined not to be anything less than perfect this time.
Kame checks his watch as the meeting comes to an end, out of habit more than need or curiosity. He glances up at the other members, who are yawning and stretching and complaining about how boring these things are.
"I could be sleeping right now," Koki laments, sprawling back in his chair with his arms dangling. To Koki's right, Jin sits with his arms crossed and his chin tucked down, looking like he really did fall asleep.
"Or eating. It's lunchtime," Nakamaru points out. "Anyone want to go grab something?"
"Your treat?" Ueda asks slyly, and everyone perks up at the idea of a free meal; Taguchi's face brightens and even Jin cracks an eye open in interest.
"Hell, no." Nakamaru is immediately met with a chorus of boo's and accusations of being a cheapskate, but as far as arguments go, this one doesn't last long. "You all pay for yourselves!"
"Kame?" Someone gives Kame's shoulder a light punch - probably Koki, judging by the closeness of his voice.
"Can't," he says, glancing down at his planner, though he already knows his schedule for the day down to the last minute. "I have another meeting."
The decline surprises no one, not during this time of the year. Still, Nakamaru offers, "We're recording the song later, you want me to bring you something then?"
Kame allows a small grin. "I can feed myself, you know." He doesn't look up to see if anyone is wearing a skeptical expression. It doesn't matter because no one argues, and he feels some relief once the others finally leave. He pulls a folded sheet of paper out - the lyrics to the theme song, which he hasn't gotten a chance to really look at yet.
There is a single solo line at the very end of the song once the chorus is supposed to trail off: "may you and I be reborn on the same lotus." Kame gets that line, naturally, and almost without knowing his lips move to recite it aloud.
He jumps in his seat when he hears a voice comment, "You like that part?"
Kame turns around. Jin hasn't moved; arms still crossed, slouching in his chair, and his eyes are closed again. Despite the question, he appears unconcerned with the answer.
"It's fitting," Kame replies, adopting a bland tone to match Jin's indifference.
"Of course it's fitting, it's for a drama about love suicide," Jin points out with a hint of disgust - and Kame doesn't know how he can sound personally offended and look completely apathetic at the same time, but he supposes that's Jin for you.
Then Kame skims over the sheet again and his gaze catches on the name of the lyricist, written in English. A thought occurs to him and for a second, his mind goes blank. With trepidation, as if expecting not only to be wrong, but to get burned for it, he asks, "Jin, did you write this?"
"Yeah."
"Under a penname?"
"Yeah."
"Oh." It feels like one of those horrible moments when he's put on the spot and can't handle himself gracefully to save his life. They're few and far between these days, but that only makes them more humiliating. "I really like it-"
"Bullshit, you just said it was 'fitting'." Jin raises his voice loftily at the end and all pretense of apathy is gone.
Kame finds himself smiling a little at Jin's childish disgruntlement. Some things never change. "It is, and that's why I like it. The theme is very moving and the words convey that perfectly. Timeless is a great song for the drama. Thank you." He's not sure why he's thanking Jin - it's a business arrangement, nothing more. That much is apparent in the use of a penname so that they won't be linked together. It's unusual of Jin, actually, who has never bothered to hide behind a different name before (has never wanted to, and is probably incapable of being something he isn't), and Kame wonders with some disquiet about the uncharacteristic decision. Perhaps he could be over-thinking things. They're friends, but Kame figures that they're grown friends; grown up and apart. The common tragedy of adulthood.
In the meantime, Jin is still looking at him, not quite convinced, so Kame arches his brows with significance and adds, "I was shocked at first. After all, there aren't any dirty English lyrics."
"Those were only a couple songs!" Jin protests with a burst of indignation. "And they weren't crude or anything."
"LOVEJUICE?"
"It was poetic, you have no idea."
"You're disgusting, Akanishi." Kame shakes his head, but laughs while he says it to take the edge off, and he's surprised by how happy and young his laughter sounds in his own ears.
Jin looks torn between a grin and a pout, but doesn't get a chance to reply before Kame gets up and collects his belongings. There's still some time to spare, but suddenly he wants to get moving. He can always put that time to better use. When he's about ready to leave, Jin has returned to looking bored. They're both like this, shifting moods easily, trying to shift around each other. Sometimes they're volatile, sometimes they're cold, and sometimes they're just awkward. Kame isn't sure if they've gotten better with age and experience, or just accustomed.
"I'll be sure to sing the song really well," Kame says in lame parting. It's difficult to be earnest when Jin doesn't appear to be paying attention.
"Of course," is all Jin says in response, and it isn't an arrogant rejoinder at all. He sounds expectant, but unenthused.
There is a brief moment when Kame considers asking Jin if he remembers something, a silly make-believe game from years ago. That's another reason why Kame likes the song, because it evokes a hazy childhood memory, the nostalgic past, but maybe only to him.
Kame lifts a hand to wave goodbye and turns his back. Jin wouldn't remember something like that. Kame can barely remember it himself.
* * * * *
The stars look different in the countryside than they do in the city. They're brighter, billions of them, like someone unrolled a map of constellations to cover the length and breadth of clear sky. Jin and Kame lie on their backs, lazily pointing out ones they recognize and some that they make up, arguing halfheartedly over ambiguous shapes and the stories that go along with them. They're young and dreaming of being stars themselves one day, with their own legends, so that other people will also point and marvel.
"Ah," Kame catches his breath as a streak of moving light draws his eye before disappearing from view.
"What is it?" Jin asks in a sleepy-sounding drawl.
"...Nothing," he mumbles, disappointed that Jin didn't see the shooting star, and kind of annoyed, too. Should he make a wish anyway?
"Hey," Jin says, interrupting Kame's internal wish-making. "We should do this again some time."
"Sure," Kame readily agrees, embarrassingly pleased with the idea, already calculating when they might have another vacation.
"In a year," Jin figures confidently. "Or five years. Do you think we'll be famous in five years? Maybe it should be ten."
Ten years is a long time, Kame thinks. "It might as well be fifty," he sighs, exhaling his disappointment. Jin only laughs.
"Fifty? We'll be old by then! I don't want that!"
Truthfully, Kame can't even imagine it - them being old. He can hardly see beyond the endless hours, days, and weeks of training. Dance practice, singing lessons, and baseball when he has time for it. He doesn't have much time for it anymore. Kame doesn't even think before he finds himself saying, "Then how about this. In five hundred years-" Jin can barely hold in his laughter. "Listen! In five hundred years, we can be born again. You and me. We'll meet each other and see the stars again."
"In the next life, huh..."
Jin trails off and a dead silence settles over them. Kame scrambles to say something or make a joke, but the words get stuck in his throat. He hadn't meant much by throwing out that silly idea, but he wishes, suddenly and fervently and perhaps stupidly, to meet Jin again in his next life.
"Okay!" Jin confirms, startlingly loud in the indolent atmosphere, and Kame turns his wide-eyed gaze on him. The grass rustles as Jin sits up and leans over Kame, features vague in the darkness but his grin still wide. "Five hundred years it is. It'll be fun."
Kame is still staring, blanketed in Jin's shadow. He can see Jin's form outlined by stars while the moon hangs round and pale over his shoulder.
"Yeah," Kame agrees faintly, wondering how much different the world will look by then.
* * * * *
"Jin? Hellooo, are you listening?"
Jin readjusts his grip on the phone, angling it more firmly against his ear. "Sorry, Pi," he says, propping both elbows on the railing of the balcony. A breeze whips through the night air, carrying away the trail of smoke from his cigarette. "Long day at work, you know."
"Go to sleep then," Yamapi replies casually, knowing full well that the suggestion won't be considered. They'll keep talking like this, lazy and rambling and pointless, laughing over shared jokes and complaining over shared grievances. Tomorrow's schedule might as well not exist. "And get your ass back indoors, I can barely hear you over the wind. Plus, you're going to catch a cold and be totally miserable, and then you'll bend my ear with your whining."
"It isn't that cold," Jin retorts. Summer is fading, but the briskness of autumn hasn't sharpened yet. He looks out across the sprawling cityscape, all lit up and bright; alive. Tilting his head back, he takes in the sky. The stars look tiny and dim compared to the sea of lights spread out below.
"Hey, Pi."
"Now what?" Judging by the exasperated sigh, Jin figures he interrupted him. Yamapi's tone accuses and forgives in practically the same instant.
"What would you want to do in your next life?" Jin asks straightforwardly, no explanation. With some people, it's not needed. Simplicity is underrated.
"That sounds like one of those retarded questions we're asked on interviews. 'If you weren't disgustingly rich and famous nationwide, would what you want to be?'" Yamapi mimics in a false, pitched tone.
Jin's lips quirk. "Pretty stupid, yeah." He takes one more drag of his cigarette before putting it out and flicking the ashen remains over the edge.
* * * * *
Sometimes - a lot of the time - Jin hates having so much history with Kame. Years drifting apart can change things, but never enough, and he's reminded whenever he looks at Kame these days. He's reminded because he notices what time can't change. Habits, nuances, little signs he recognizes fleetingly and reflectively that belong to an awkward boy, before they're obscured by the adult Jin barely knows (and doesn't particularly care to know, because Kame is the sort of adult that Jin can't stand).
They're filming Cartoon KAT-TUN today, and it's turning out to be a harrowing process. First there is a scheduling mishap somewhere along the line, which means everyone is rushed and mildly panicky and not sure exactly what's going on. Kame is actually late; he shows up without excuses or blame and shoulders the responsibility. He also bears the extra irritation, sharp and snappish. One look and they all dread putting up with him today.
Jin supposes he doesn't make things any better by complaining, "It's about time." But he's also unhurried as he uncurls his body and stretches, back arching before relaxing into a comfortable slouch while he walks towards the set.
It's sort of funny to nag at Kame of all people, and sort of terrible - not just because it's an asshole thing to do. Predictably, Kame goes tight-lipped and handles himself off-camera with razor-edged efficiency, like he has something to prove. In his mind, he probably does. On-camera, he smiles the winning, super idol smile, and the staff breathe a sigh of relief, like everything will be okay so long as Kame has it together.
Kame has it together the way he always does when he's this busy. He sleeps less, eats less, and only seems to find more work to do. It's so regular now, so expected, that nobody really pays attention.
Jin wishes he didn't notice, because all it seems to do is piss him off.
* * * * *
"Oh, for-" Jin stops in his tracks, patting down one pocket after another, coming up empty and hissing out between his teeth, "Shit."
He's missing his cell phone. It's late and he's just completed his part for the PV, so he'd like nothing more than to go home and crash, but the stupid phone is new. He'd spent most of the day playing with it (i.e. creeping Nakamaru out by sending weird texts before revealing himself as the unknown number).
Jin backtracks into the building again, heading for the dressing room and hoping that he left it there and not in the studio. He picks up on the sound of a lowered voice as he nears the door and pushes it open - but too late does Jin recognize the rising tone.
Kame doesn't even turn; he barely seems to acknowledge Jin as he lets his words trail off, flipping a page of the slightly battered script in his hands. Perhaps he's in one of his moods and is giving Jin the cold shoulder. He was normal enough during the shooting, maybe demanding a few more retakes and being a tiny bit forced into group interaction for the making-of, but still normal enough. He smiled and put up with the teasing, cracking back as best he could (which wasn't very well - it never is when he's trying not to mean it).
Then Kame comments without looking up: "I thought you were done."
Jin feels a flash of irritation and it shows on his face, which Kame can't see, but he must hear it in his tone. "Lost my phone. Seen it?" Jin casts about the room, cluttered with clothes and makeup and other things that are decidedly not his cell phone.
"Nope," Kame replies distractedly. "Did you leave it on-set?"
"Fuck, I hope not." Jin scans the table, scowling, and rifles through the area where his stuff was. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Kame study the script for another moment before lowering it and repeating his lines, changing the inflection. It's nothing unusual, but Jin's bothered by the process anyway. Maybe because of the way Kame has lost a noticeable amount of weight already when he didn't have much to spare to begin with.
Kame has no 'off' switch, or rather, he's unwilling to use it. Everything has to matter to him, every little thing, including every person he has to impress. Not to say that it doesn't pay off, but perhaps it does so a little too well. He's Kamenashi Kazuya and he's dedicating his life to anybody and everybody who will have him. He's loved for that, considered near and dear, and yet he's untouchable. Kame doesn't require anyone's concern and habitually rebuffs anything approaching it. The members are constantly stating it as his weakness, and that's when he'll humbly apologize and make an effort to open up, awkwardly and sometimes drastically in rare breaking-point bursts. But successful or not, it's always the impressive effort that people respond to.
Jin, though, is characterized by his effortlessness. He is never easily ignored, which means he's very, very good at making Kame open up to him. However, it's been a long time since that was a positive thing.
He's not really thinking his actions through when he ambles over and steals the script right out of Kame's startled hands.
"Jin!"
"What? I thought I'd help." He goes back to the door, kicking it shut and leaning against it, trapping them both inside. "Oh, this looks like a good scene."
Even Kame's most withering glare has ceased to intimidate him. When they were little, that poisonous look instantly confounded Jin since he usually had no idea what provoked it in the first place. Then he learned to recognize it as a warning sign, and quickly after that it only ignited his temper. Things changed again after L.A. - a long time after, because for a period things were quietly uneasy - and it wasn't a matter of Jin ignoring it so much as paying more attention. If Jin wanted to.
"This isn't a game. Give that back."
"I'll start with one of Harumi's lines, okay?"
"Akanishi-" Another changing thing, the name, and for just a second Jin hesitates. But only just.
"Or you could start. But it's supposed to be 'Saito-san'."
Kame looks angry enough to spit, and Jin doesn't have a good reason to be antagonizing him except that bullying his way into Kame's business has always been second nature. The rest is up to Kame.
"Saito-san," he says at last, eyes dangerously narrow, but his tone cools to a polite - downright chilly - degree. He even smiles a little, stiff at the corners, and perfectly in-character. Kame is either the world's best actor right now, or the worst. "I am sorry that you came all this way, but you are wasting your time as well as mine."
Jin skims the screenplay, making a lazy attempt to get in-character. He doesn't know anything about Harumi except that she's the reincarnation of an 18th century courtesan. "But I thought... You said you remembered. You told me about the trouble with your family back then, and about yourself, Saburo-"
"Kobayashi," Kame corrects, cutting the other off with a curt gesture. He's averting his gaze, distracted or unwilling to look 'Harumi' in the eye. "My name is Kobayashi Minoru. Please remember it."
"The forest," Jin half-pleads and half-accuses because it seems appropriate. He takes a few steps forward. "And the tolling of the bell. You remember that, don't you?"
Kame goes stock-still for just a moment, just enough to say Kobayashi does remember, and unhappily, but his shrug and reply are casually unaffected. "If you mean my death, then yes. It's not the sort of thing one looks back upon with warm feelings. A normal person would want to forget such a memory."
"But you didn't want to forget. You haven't forgotten, because we-"
"Oh, honestly," Kame goes tense and shoots Jin a sharp look. "This is beyond tiring. I accept that in my past life I was Saburo and that I was in love. I accept that I died for that love, hundreds of years ago. Times change - people change. I am no longer that same man. I have this life now, a life that has been perfectly fine without you in it. I have no desire to chase after the past, and in fact I am rather busy here in the present. Saito-san, I wish you luck in your own pursuits, but leave me out of them. Goodbye."
Kame abruptly brushes by, just like that, as written in the script. Jin starts after him, also according to the scripted actions, but he deviates in calling out, "Kame!" instead of the character name.
In-character or not, Kame ignores him.
Act 2