The Anatomy of A Breaking Heart
Title: The Anatomy of A Breaking Heart
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/Group: Akame (KAT-TUN)
Word count: 3,338 (One-shot)
Summary:
"We're not that close."
But when Jin plans to leave, Kame breaks,
And with this he questions what Jin broke--his group, or Kame's heart.
Notes: My first Akame fic! :D I have forever loved this pairing ever since I've gotten into the KAT-TUN fandom, so in celebration for it, I am writing a fanfic for them. <3 Even if Jin is not in the group anymore, I believe in this two so badly it's unhealthy for me. XD Enjoy!
The Anatomy of a Breaking Heart
An Akame story by Nhixxie / Nhijumma
We’re not that close.
Kamenashi Kazuya is no stranger to these words.
Despite being in the same agency, the same Gokusen season, the same band, Kame knew that he and Jin are not that close. Individual activities take them far away from each other, and whatever time both of them spent together as KAT-TUN all melts down unnoticed. They are all replaced by newer, stronger moments, and Kame does not know whether theirs are important enough to stay afloat . By the time they’re face-to-face once more for another concert, there’s already that thick, unbearable feeling of awkwardness and Kame finds himself starting all over again.
“Kamenashi, you’re here early?”
“Uh, yeah, I wasn’t able to attend rehearsals yesterday, so I have to make up for the lost time. You too, you’re here earlier than usual.”
“More parking space.”
“ I see.”
“Well, our choreographer isn’t here yet. I’ll teach you the steps until he arrives.”
“N-no, it’s okay, I can wait for him-”
“Come on, I don’t wanna laze around for an hour. Plus that chair is killing my ass.”
“It’s really okay, I can manage-”
By the time their choreographer arrives on set, Kame’s tired, and his heart is breathless. He doesn’t know why, but with Jin, it’s always painfully awkward, like something is trapping words against his teeth and fisting fingers against his heart.
He hates it; how everyone else can freely walk up to Jin without a care in the world, while he has to push against the walls and cut through the thickets.
He hates it; how he can only talk to Jin naturally when there are cameras in sight and a script at hand-and when the director shouts “cut!”, he’s not only cutting through recording; he’s cutting through their only seemingly real conversation for the day.
And he absolutely hates it; how something hits at his chest, hastens his heart, and tugs on his mind during those scarce chances where they do talk without the guise of a television show.
After a few months, he hears that Jin is leaving.
Kame wistfully thinks that maybe it should be Jin that he should hate.
(
“Kamenashi!”
“Yes?”
“Here!”
Catches.
“What’s this?”
“A souvenir from Okinawa. I went there this weekend.”
Kame reads the word engraved on the wooden pendant of the necklace.
Courage.
)- - -
That night, Jin calls Kame.
Kame is already halfway through his bed when his hand phone rings and discovers Jin’s name flashing against its screen. For a moment he considers whether to take the call or not (the clock screams 11:30 in the evening) but he lets his logic go and answers despite himself.
“Hello?” Kame says as his head hits the pillows and his legs spread across the mattress.
Hey, let’s go out for a drink.
“Are you kidding me? It’s almost morning.” The other fails to stifle his yawn. “And I have to come in extra early for tomorrow too.”
No way! That sucks. I was looking for someone to talk to.
“We can talk over the phone.” Kame suggests, rubbing away the sleep from his eyes, “I make better conversations like this.” (“At least that’s how I am with you.” Kame thinks, shaking his head at the thought.)
I’m leaving the group soon.
Silence. Kame could feel the choke hold of the sensation clamp against his throat. He forces it down before he completely loses his ability to speak.
“Really? Are you studying abroad again? Maybe French this time? An indefinite hiatus like before?” “Too many questions, Kamenashi. Stop it.” He bitterly scolds himself. He feels himself hanging by the cliff of Jin’s words, and within that slow-spinning second he realizes that he fears what Jin is going to say next.
No. It’s for good.
Before Kame can stop himself, his words careen from his lips and hit the receiver with force. “Why won’t you come back?” It slips unintentionally, and with those words comes a tone of one that is hurt.
It’s something I have to do as an artist. You know how I need-
“I understand.” Kame interrupts the steady flow of Jin’s statement, and silence eats at what he latter has to say. “Once you set your mind on something, there’s no changing it.”
Kame locks his gaze onto the blandly colored ceiling of his apartment.
“I understand.” He repeats, as if trying to convince himself.
I’m sorry. I don’t have to see you to know that you’re disappointed.
“You don’t have to apologize. I’m okay with everything.” Kame releases these words with his control loosened and his walls brought down,
“I won’t be angry. I won’t hurt.”
“Because anyway, we’re not that close.”
.. I see. Of course.
You should go back to bed, morning’s five minutes away.
Once they have said their ‘goodbyes’ and offered their ‘see you soon’s, Kame tosses his hand phone onto his bed side table and pulls his blanket above his head. He stays under the darkness of his covers-his only companion the sensation of something clinging against his lashes and dripping down the cotton of his pillow.
He knows saying those things to Jin is wrong, and he will never forgive himself for doing so. But it is the perfect remedy for a breaking, faltering heart, and Kame knows that if he couldn’t have his as a whole, he should at least save what is left of it.
The logic Kamenashi threw away as he answers Jin’s call a while ago is beginning to resurface, and his reasons for doing such a horrible thing becomes apparent.
By the end of the day, Jin is still leaving for America.
But Kame’s damaged heart will never go.
- - -
“Why are we here again?” Kame asks, a tinge of whining evident in his voice.
Nakamaru answers him from behind a rack of statement shirts and trucker caps, still engrossed with sifting through the multitude of designs. “I’m getting Bakanishi a goodbye gift.”
“And why do I have to come with you again?” Kame grabs onto the hangers and pushes them apart. Nakamaru could only stare at Kame’s face, which is sandwiched by two shirts with pictures of various farm animals on them.
“Because I need your help in choosing, and you, by the way, are not living up to the purpose of your presence.” Nakamaru pushes Kame’s face away.
Kame’s lips produce a small, almost hidden pout before directing himself to a shelf where a multitude of jackets are neatly stacked.
Nakamaru unhooks a hanger from the rack and turns to Kame for advice. “How about this, will he-” He abruptly stops.
Nakamaru is not as good of an actor as Kame, nor is he as good of a singer as Jin, but when it comes to reading between the lines and catching something fleetingly there, he is best. Nothing escapes Nakamaru, and that includes the brief but strong look of pain that swirls by Kame’s eyes.
“Kame.” Nakamaru calls softly, as he leans his hands across the rack of clothes, “Even if you don’t tell me, I know.”
Kame looks up from a particularly poufy wind breaker he picked up from the last stack.
“What do you mean?”
Nakamaru settles his chin onto his hands, leaning onto the clothing rack before him. “You don’t seem bothered by Jin leaving.”
Kame shrugs, tugging onto the zipper of the jacket he’s holding. “He’s done it before and I was okay. I don’t get why I should be bothered by a second departure.” He says these (mouthful of lies) words with an uncaring tone.
“Besides, we’re not that close.”
Nakamaru tilts his head. “What makes you say that?”
Kame raises a perfectly arched brow, wondering why his band mate chose this moment to channel Detective Conan. “We don’t hang out.”
“I think you mean you are always busy when it comes to Jin.” Nakamaru corrects deftly, a message trapped within the look that he’s giving the other.
“What are you saying, I-”
“Hey, let’s go out for a drink.”
“Are you kidding me? It’s almost morning.”
Kame purses his lips. “We don’t talk much face to face.”
“You won’t talk to Jin face to face.” Nakamaru yet again says pointedly.
“I don’t get why it’s always me-”
“No way! That sucks. I was looking for someone to talk to.”
“We can talk over the phone. I make better conversations like this.”
Kame shakes his head in weariness of the conversation. “We don’t even have concern about each other’s personal matters.”
“Are you sure?” Nakamaru questions, hitting the bull’s eye for the third time running.
“I’m leaving the group soon.”
“Really? Are you studying abroad again? Maybe French this time? An indefinite hiatus like before?”
Kame tries to say something back, but he cannot urge any more words out of his lips. Instead, he slumps his shoulders, runs his fingers through his hair, and breathes a defeated sigh. “What are you trying to say?”
Nakamaru straightens himself from his previous position and walks towards Kame’s direction. He takes the jacket from the other’s hands.
“Just because you want to support Jin in everything he does,”
“I’m sorry. I don’t have to see you to know that you’re disappointed.”
“You don’t have to apologize. I’m okay with everything.”
“Doesn’t mean you don’t have the right to be pained by it,”
“I won’t be angry. I won’t hurt.”
“Nor does it mean you should lie to yourself that you’re not.”
“Because anyway, we’re not that close.”
Nakamaru gives the velvet black jacket a quick shake before saying, “I’ll get this for him. Bakanishi’s size, his usual style.. plus it’s gonna be cold over there. Perfect choice Kame,” Nakamaru walks by the other, patting him on the shoulder for a job well done, “Shows how much you know.”
After a few steps, Nakamaru stops and offers Kame a small look back. “I’m thinking I won’t have to give this to him though. What’s the use of a wind breaker if that idiot changes his mind and stays here, right?”
“Once he sets his mind on something, there’s no changing it.” Kame says under his breath.
Nakamaru smiles. “Maybe you should change that.”
The guy is about to skip over towards the cashier when Kame turns around, pushes himself to fall into a few forward steps, and calls out, “Nakamaru!”
“Yeah?”
Kame feels breathless all of a sudden, and imaginary finger prodding softly at his heart.
“How do you know all of these?”
Nakamaru smiles a second time. “Jin also seems to think I’m a good listener.”
- - -
That night, Kame is at Jin’s door.
Kame comes to Jin’s apartment with no concrete plan or predetermined objective. He is betting everything on is the adrenaline given by Nakamaru’s words and the newfound courage trapped in his chest. Puffing out a determined breath, he decides having a plan doesn’t matter. If he really did love the idiot as much as Nakamaru fervently says he does, then he doesn’t need specifics-he can just wing it and still come out with his sanity intact and his heart in one piece.
But when Jin opens the door, he feels his resolution crumble a little just by the sight of him.
“Kamenashi.” He mutters, almost in wonder, as if at awe by Kame’s mere ability to be anywhere near him, “What are doing here this late?”
Kame encloses his fingers into a loose fist, only to remember that Nakamaru had asked him to bring the farewell gift along, just in case. “Nakamaru has something for you.” He answers, painting a small smile across his face as he gave the paper bag a small shake.
Jin turns his attention towards the red hue of the bag, then to the noticeably strained expression of the one holding it out. “Oh, thanks. Come in, it’s chilly out here.”
Kame nods, failing to supply any words to accompany his gesture. With his fists clenched and his heartbeat knocking steadily against his chest, he enters through the door and closes it behind him.
- - -
“Do you want anything to drink?” Jin asks, his manners as a host getting the better of him while he sticks his head inside his refrigerator in search for anything to offer. “We have some orange juice, soda, and beer.”
Kame shifts uncomfortably within his place on the couch. “I’ll have some juice, thanks.” He answers, scolding himself for letting his mind wander around the choice of getting a bottle of beer instead. Just for a little blind courage, he reasons. Now he can only hope that orange juice also has the capability to give him a spine.
The tinkering of glass can be heard from within the kitchen while Kame looks around the spacious living room of Jin’s apartment. His coffee table is wooden and polished, while the television glows of splendid movie watching promises. Kame’s gaze falls on the half lidded suitcase by his far left, and almost immediately, his heart quivers in weakness.
I can’t do this. Kame feels fear pump into his legs as he pushes himself off the couch, strides hurriedly across the room and towards the door. Both his hands moves in that moment, the right one hurriedly grasping the door knob, and the right plunging into his pockets to retrieve his car keys.
He is about to twist the door open, when his fingers grazes something non-metallic within his pockets. Kame takes the object between his forefinger and his thumb, feeling its smooth, wooden surface. Within his mind, curiosity fills in fear, and with that he lets go of the 30 seconds he could use to run towards his car and spends them on retrieving the item from within the clothed compartment.
Courage.
It is what the pendant says.
Jin. Okinawa. Gift. These words echo through his mind-and then he realizes.
“Courage.” Kame mutters under his breath, his fingers clasping tightly onto the necklace. Kame forces his eyes shut, trying to battle out confusion.
Kamenashi, he asks himself vehemently, Can you go through Jin’s departure with a smile on your face?
“No.” He mutters under his breath, brows furrowing even at the mere thought.
When you guys bring him to the airport and bid your goodbyes, can you say yours and actually mean it?
“.. No.” He again answers quietly, fisting the pendant within the center of his palm.
Now tell me.
Kame open his eyes, almost in slow motion, almost as if trapped within that second of the moment.
Can you live without him?
“.. Never.” He utters.
That is when Kame’s fingers moves against the metal of the door knob; sliding ungracefully against its surface; nails scratching against it-and finally letting go.
Courage.
- - -
“Here you go, I brought out some strawberry daifuku too-”
By the time Jin emerges from the kitchen with a tray in hand, he feels the need to stop and stare. Right before him is Kame unloading his clothes from his suitcase.
Jin doesn’t know what exactly is going on and what exactly he should do. Is Kame having an obsessive compulsive episode? Did he really pack his stuff in such a disarrayed manner that his band mate is physically hauling everything from his baggage and onto his couch?
“Kamenashi,” he calls out, a tad bit irritated and a tad bit worried, “What are you doing?” He lays the tray onto the coffee table before walking up towards the other.
Jin bites his lip in a concerned fashion after Kame refuses to produce any substantial responses to his question. He continues his back-and-forth escapade from the suitcase to the couch, a small hill of clothing stacked onto his arms with each time.
“Kamenashi,” Jin tries, now tugging onto Kame’s polo shirt, “What’s wrong?”
“What-Kamenashi. Kamenashi!” It is when Kame forcefully pulls his arm back from the other’s hold that Jin decides that he is not taking any more of this.
“Kame, listen to me!” His words reels off as a shout, and Jin feels slightly guilty at the shattered expression that has painted itself on Kame’s face. “What are you doing?” He repeats, with every word accented with the heaviness of both his confusion and irritation.
Jin then sees desperation in Kame’s eyes. He is so used to see it on Kame fleetingly, so hidden and completely held back that when he sees it full-fledged and with all its pitiful glory, he does not know what to say. Relaxed fingers curl into clenched fists. Calm expressions dissolve into furrowed brows.
“I know once you set your mind on something there’s no changing it.” Kame mutters with visible difficulty, his eyes angled towards the floor and his voice very close to curling into strangled cries, “And I know we’re not that close.”
Jin glares at the words, anger beating against his veins. “Will you stop saying that?! I don’t-”
“But I love you.” Kame almost whispers (eyes anxious, voice desperate).
“So much that I’d stand here, letting myself look like a complete dumbass, towing your stuff out of your suitcase so you can’t fly off to America.” Kame says, now his whisper escalating a decibel higher as he weakly laughs a bitter laugh.
“Because if you do leave, Akanishi Jin,”
“I’d die. I love you so much that I’m telling you, right here, right now, that I can never live without you.”
“I love you. And if you give even the slightest bit of shit about what I said,” Kame finishes, an ultimatum hanging along the entirety of his words,
“You’d stay.”
Kame breathes in, out. In, out. He gives Jin one pensive gaze, taking in his emotionless expression and his lack luster silence-and with that his heart takes the beating of a one-sided confession. Knowing he has done everything he could, he drops the pendant back into his pocket, and turns to leave.
Just when Kame is about to reach a heavy, shuddering hand towards the door, his hearing catches the sound of quickly paced footsteps. He feels a body close in on him from behind, and he confirms this with the familiar hand that firmly grabs his outstretched one. He is spun around; the dim colors melting into an undecipherable hue as the world seemingly turned thrice its natural speed.
He feels hands on his cheeks,
The sensation of being pulled inwards,
Then Jin’s lips locking perfectly onto his own.
When Jin pulls away, he lets himself close his eyes, focusing on the smoothness of the other’s skin against the pads of his fingertips, and allows his forehead linger against Kame’s (And he’d be willing to do this even for centuries more).
“I’ll stay.” Jin whispers.
“I love you,
I’ve loved you,
Ever since,
In the past,
In the present,
In the future,
Forever.
And because of that I’ll stay.”
Kame feels his heart, and it’s perfectly, irrevocably healed.
- - -
“Give me back my jacket.” Nakamaru says, his hand outstretched towards Jin’s direction.
“It’s mine! You gave it to me as a goodbye gift, so it’s officially, 100 percent mine!” Jin retorts, clasping onto the wind breaker and snuggling into the fabric.
“Well you’re here now, aren’t you?”
“It doesn’t matter, no take backs!” Jin yells victoriously and hurries towards Kame, who is trying to smoothen down a rogue lock of hair in front of the rehearsal room mirrors. “Kame, make Nakamaru stop bugging me.” He pleads, encircling his arms around the others waist in an effort to get his request answered.
“It is basic gift-giving etiquette.” Kame states as-a-matter-of-factly, giving Nakamaru a slight look.
Nakamaru snorts, smirking. “I thought you guys weren’t that close?”
Kame, who is still preoccupied with both his untamed tresses and a contented Jin nuzzling through his hair, answers with an innocent smile projected against his face.
“I don’t remember saying that.”
Fin.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/Group: Akame (KAT-TUN)
Word count: 3,338 (One-shot)
Summary:
"We're not that close."
But when Jin plans to leave, Kame breaks,
And with this he questions what Jin broke--his group, or Kame's heart.
Notes: My first Akame fic! :D I have forever loved this pairing ever since I've gotten into the KAT-TUN fandom, so in celebration for it, I am writing a fanfic for them. <3 Even if Jin is not in the group anymore, I believe in this two so badly it's unhealthy for me. XD Enjoy!
The Anatomy of a Breaking Heart
An Akame story by Nhixxie / Nhijumma
We’re not that close.
Kamenashi Kazuya is no stranger to these words.
Despite being in the same agency, the same Gokusen season, the same band, Kame knew that he and Jin are not that close. Individual activities take them far away from each other, and whatever time both of them spent together as KAT-TUN all melts down unnoticed. They are all replaced by newer, stronger moments, and Kame does not know whether theirs are important enough to stay afloat . By the time they’re face-to-face once more for another concert, there’s already that thick, unbearable feeling of awkwardness and Kame finds himself starting all over again.
“Kamenashi, you’re here early?”
“Uh, yeah, I wasn’t able to attend rehearsals yesterday, so I have to make up for the lost time. You too, you’re here earlier than usual.”
“More parking space.”
“ I see.”
“Well, our choreographer isn’t here yet. I’ll teach you the steps until he arrives.”
“N-no, it’s okay, I can wait for him-”
“Come on, I don’t wanna laze around for an hour. Plus that chair is killing my ass.”
“It’s really okay, I can manage-”
By the time their choreographer arrives on set, Kame’s tired, and his heart is breathless. He doesn’t know why, but with Jin, it’s always painfully awkward, like something is trapping words against his teeth and fisting fingers against his heart.
He hates it; how everyone else can freely walk up to Jin without a care in the world, while he has to push against the walls and cut through the thickets.
He hates it; how he can only talk to Jin naturally when there are cameras in sight and a script at hand-and when the director shouts “cut!”, he’s not only cutting through recording; he’s cutting through their only seemingly real conversation for the day.
And he absolutely hates it; how something hits at his chest, hastens his heart, and tugs on his mind during those scarce chances where they do talk without the guise of a television show.
After a few months, he hears that Jin is leaving.
Kame wistfully thinks that maybe it should be Jin that he should hate.
(
“Kamenashi!”
“Yes?”
“Here!”
Catches.
“What’s this?”
“A souvenir from Okinawa. I went there this weekend.”
Kame reads the word engraved on the wooden pendant of the necklace.
Courage.
)- - -
That night, Jin calls Kame.
Kame is already halfway through his bed when his hand phone rings and discovers Jin’s name flashing against its screen. For a moment he considers whether to take the call or not (the clock screams 11:30 in the evening) but he lets his logic go and answers despite himself.
“Hello?” Kame says as his head hits the pillows and his legs spread across the mattress.
Hey, let’s go out for a drink.
“Are you kidding me? It’s almost morning.” The other fails to stifle his yawn. “And I have to come in extra early for tomorrow too.”
No way! That sucks. I was looking for someone to talk to.
“We can talk over the phone.” Kame suggests, rubbing away the sleep from his eyes, “I make better conversations like this.” (“At least that’s how I am with you.” Kame thinks, shaking his head at the thought.)
I’m leaving the group soon.
Silence. Kame could feel the choke hold of the sensation clamp against his throat. He forces it down before he completely loses his ability to speak.
“Really? Are you studying abroad again? Maybe French this time? An indefinite hiatus like before?” “Too many questions, Kamenashi. Stop it.” He bitterly scolds himself. He feels himself hanging by the cliff of Jin’s words, and within that slow-spinning second he realizes that he fears what Jin is going to say next.
No. It’s for good.
Before Kame can stop himself, his words careen from his lips and hit the receiver with force. “Why won’t you come back?” It slips unintentionally, and with those words comes a tone of one that is hurt.
It’s something I have to do as an artist. You know how I need-
“I understand.” Kame interrupts the steady flow of Jin’s statement, and silence eats at what he latter has to say. “Once you set your mind on something, there’s no changing it.”
Kame locks his gaze onto the blandly colored ceiling of his apartment.
“I understand.” He repeats, as if trying to convince himself.
I’m sorry. I don’t have to see you to know that you’re disappointed.
“You don’t have to apologize. I’m okay with everything.” Kame releases these words with his control loosened and his walls brought down,
“I won’t be angry. I won’t hurt.”
“Because anyway, we’re not that close.”
.. I see. Of course.
You should go back to bed, morning’s five minutes away.
Once they have said their ‘goodbyes’ and offered their ‘see you soon’s, Kame tosses his hand phone onto his bed side table and pulls his blanket above his head. He stays under the darkness of his covers-his only companion the sensation of something clinging against his lashes and dripping down the cotton of his pillow.
He knows saying those things to Jin is wrong, and he will never forgive himself for doing so. But it is the perfect remedy for a breaking, faltering heart, and Kame knows that if he couldn’t have his as a whole, he should at least save what is left of it.
The logic Kamenashi threw away as he answers Jin’s call a while ago is beginning to resurface, and his reasons for doing such a horrible thing becomes apparent.
By the end of the day, Jin is still leaving for America.
But Kame’s damaged heart will never go.
- - -
“Why are we here again?” Kame asks, a tinge of whining evident in his voice.
Nakamaru answers him from behind a rack of statement shirts and trucker caps, still engrossed with sifting through the multitude of designs. “I’m getting Bakanishi a goodbye gift.”
“And why do I have to come with you again?” Kame grabs onto the hangers and pushes them apart. Nakamaru could only stare at Kame’s face, which is sandwiched by two shirts with pictures of various farm animals on them.
“Because I need your help in choosing, and you, by the way, are not living up to the purpose of your presence.” Nakamaru pushes Kame’s face away.
Kame’s lips produce a small, almost hidden pout before directing himself to a shelf where a multitude of jackets are neatly stacked.
Nakamaru unhooks a hanger from the rack and turns to Kame for advice. “How about this, will he-” He abruptly stops.
Nakamaru is not as good of an actor as Kame, nor is he as good of a singer as Jin, but when it comes to reading between the lines and catching something fleetingly there, he is best. Nothing escapes Nakamaru, and that includes the brief but strong look of pain that swirls by Kame’s eyes.
“Kame.” Nakamaru calls softly, as he leans his hands across the rack of clothes, “Even if you don’t tell me, I know.”
Kame looks up from a particularly poufy wind breaker he picked up from the last stack.
“What do you mean?”
Nakamaru settles his chin onto his hands, leaning onto the clothing rack before him. “You don’t seem bothered by Jin leaving.”
Kame shrugs, tugging onto the zipper of the jacket he’s holding. “He’s done it before and I was okay. I don’t get why I should be bothered by a second departure.” He says these (mouthful of lies) words with an uncaring tone.
“Besides, we’re not that close.”
Nakamaru tilts his head. “What makes you say that?”
Kame raises a perfectly arched brow, wondering why his band mate chose this moment to channel Detective Conan. “We don’t hang out.”
“I think you mean you are always busy when it comes to Jin.” Nakamaru corrects deftly, a message trapped within the look that he’s giving the other.
“What are you saying, I-”
“Hey, let’s go out for a drink.”
“Are you kidding me? It’s almost morning.”
Kame purses his lips. “We don’t talk much face to face.”
“You won’t talk to Jin face to face.” Nakamaru yet again says pointedly.
“I don’t get why it’s always me-”
“No way! That sucks. I was looking for someone to talk to.”
“We can talk over the phone. I make better conversations like this.”
Kame shakes his head in weariness of the conversation. “We don’t even have concern about each other’s personal matters.”
“Are you sure?” Nakamaru questions, hitting the bull’s eye for the third time running.
“I’m leaving the group soon.”
“Really? Are you studying abroad again? Maybe French this time? An indefinite hiatus like before?”
Kame tries to say something back, but he cannot urge any more words out of his lips. Instead, he slumps his shoulders, runs his fingers through his hair, and breathes a defeated sigh. “What are you trying to say?”
Nakamaru straightens himself from his previous position and walks towards Kame’s direction. He takes the jacket from the other’s hands.
“Just because you want to support Jin in everything he does,”
“I’m sorry. I don’t have to see you to know that you’re disappointed.”
“You don’t have to apologize. I’m okay with everything.”
“Doesn’t mean you don’t have the right to be pained by it,”
“I won’t be angry. I won’t hurt.”
“Nor does it mean you should lie to yourself that you’re not.”
“Because anyway, we’re not that close.”
Nakamaru gives the velvet black jacket a quick shake before saying, “I’ll get this for him. Bakanishi’s size, his usual style.. plus it’s gonna be cold over there. Perfect choice Kame,” Nakamaru walks by the other, patting him on the shoulder for a job well done, “Shows how much you know.”
After a few steps, Nakamaru stops and offers Kame a small look back. “I’m thinking I won’t have to give this to him though. What’s the use of a wind breaker if that idiot changes his mind and stays here, right?”
“Once he sets his mind on something, there’s no changing it.” Kame says under his breath.
Nakamaru smiles. “Maybe you should change that.”
The guy is about to skip over towards the cashier when Kame turns around, pushes himself to fall into a few forward steps, and calls out, “Nakamaru!”
“Yeah?”
Kame feels breathless all of a sudden, and imaginary finger prodding softly at his heart.
“How do you know all of these?”
Nakamaru smiles a second time. “Jin also seems to think I’m a good listener.”
- - -
That night, Kame is at Jin’s door.
Kame comes to Jin’s apartment with no concrete plan or predetermined objective. He is betting everything on is the adrenaline given by Nakamaru’s words and the newfound courage trapped in his chest. Puffing out a determined breath, he decides having a plan doesn’t matter. If he really did love the idiot as much as Nakamaru fervently says he does, then he doesn’t need specifics-he can just wing it and still come out with his sanity intact and his heart in one piece.
But when Jin opens the door, he feels his resolution crumble a little just by the sight of him.
“Kamenashi.” He mutters, almost in wonder, as if at awe by Kame’s mere ability to be anywhere near him, “What are doing here this late?”
Kame encloses his fingers into a loose fist, only to remember that Nakamaru had asked him to bring the farewell gift along, just in case. “Nakamaru has something for you.” He answers, painting a small smile across his face as he gave the paper bag a small shake.
Jin turns his attention towards the red hue of the bag, then to the noticeably strained expression of the one holding it out. “Oh, thanks. Come in, it’s chilly out here.”
Kame nods, failing to supply any words to accompany his gesture. With his fists clenched and his heartbeat knocking steadily against his chest, he enters through the door and closes it behind him.
- - -
“Do you want anything to drink?” Jin asks, his manners as a host getting the better of him while he sticks his head inside his refrigerator in search for anything to offer. “We have some orange juice, soda, and beer.”
Kame shifts uncomfortably within his place on the couch. “I’ll have some juice, thanks.” He answers, scolding himself for letting his mind wander around the choice of getting a bottle of beer instead. Just for a little blind courage, he reasons. Now he can only hope that orange juice also has the capability to give him a spine.
The tinkering of glass can be heard from within the kitchen while Kame looks around the spacious living room of Jin’s apartment. His coffee table is wooden and polished, while the television glows of splendid movie watching promises. Kame’s gaze falls on the half lidded suitcase by his far left, and almost immediately, his heart quivers in weakness.
I can’t do this. Kame feels fear pump into his legs as he pushes himself off the couch, strides hurriedly across the room and towards the door. Both his hands moves in that moment, the right one hurriedly grasping the door knob, and the right plunging into his pockets to retrieve his car keys.
He is about to twist the door open, when his fingers grazes something non-metallic within his pockets. Kame takes the object between his forefinger and his thumb, feeling its smooth, wooden surface. Within his mind, curiosity fills in fear, and with that he lets go of the 30 seconds he could use to run towards his car and spends them on retrieving the item from within the clothed compartment.
Courage.
It is what the pendant says.
Jin. Okinawa. Gift. These words echo through his mind-and then he realizes.
“Courage.” Kame mutters under his breath, his fingers clasping tightly onto the necklace. Kame forces his eyes shut, trying to battle out confusion.
Kamenashi, he asks himself vehemently, Can you go through Jin’s departure with a smile on your face?
“No.” He mutters under his breath, brows furrowing even at the mere thought.
When you guys bring him to the airport and bid your goodbyes, can you say yours and actually mean it?
“.. No.” He again answers quietly, fisting the pendant within the center of his palm.
Now tell me.
Kame open his eyes, almost in slow motion, almost as if trapped within that second of the moment.
Can you live without him?
“.. Never.” He utters.
That is when Kame’s fingers moves against the metal of the door knob; sliding ungracefully against its surface; nails scratching against it-and finally letting go.
Courage.
- - -
“Here you go, I brought out some strawberry daifuku too-”
By the time Jin emerges from the kitchen with a tray in hand, he feels the need to stop and stare. Right before him is Kame unloading his clothes from his suitcase.
Jin doesn’t know what exactly is going on and what exactly he should do. Is Kame having an obsessive compulsive episode? Did he really pack his stuff in such a disarrayed manner that his band mate is physically hauling everything from his baggage and onto his couch?
“Kamenashi,” he calls out, a tad bit irritated and a tad bit worried, “What are you doing?” He lays the tray onto the coffee table before walking up towards the other.
Jin bites his lip in a concerned fashion after Kame refuses to produce any substantial responses to his question. He continues his back-and-forth escapade from the suitcase to the couch, a small hill of clothing stacked onto his arms with each time.
“Kamenashi,” Jin tries, now tugging onto Kame’s polo shirt, “What’s wrong?”
“What-Kamenashi. Kamenashi!” It is when Kame forcefully pulls his arm back from the other’s hold that Jin decides that he is not taking any more of this.
“Kame, listen to me!” His words reels off as a shout, and Jin feels slightly guilty at the shattered expression that has painted itself on Kame’s face. “What are you doing?” He repeats, with every word accented with the heaviness of both his confusion and irritation.
Jin then sees desperation in Kame’s eyes. He is so used to see it on Kame fleetingly, so hidden and completely held back that when he sees it full-fledged and with all its pitiful glory, he does not know what to say. Relaxed fingers curl into clenched fists. Calm expressions dissolve into furrowed brows.
“I know once you set your mind on something there’s no changing it.” Kame mutters with visible difficulty, his eyes angled towards the floor and his voice very close to curling into strangled cries, “And I know we’re not that close.”
Jin glares at the words, anger beating against his veins. “Will you stop saying that?! I don’t-”
“But I love you.” Kame almost whispers (eyes anxious, voice desperate).
“So much that I’d stand here, letting myself look like a complete dumbass, towing your stuff out of your suitcase so you can’t fly off to America.” Kame says, now his whisper escalating a decibel higher as he weakly laughs a bitter laugh.
“Because if you do leave, Akanishi Jin,”
“I’d die. I love you so much that I’m telling you, right here, right now, that I can never live without you.”
“I love you. And if you give even the slightest bit of shit about what I said,” Kame finishes, an ultimatum hanging along the entirety of his words,
“You’d stay.”
Kame breathes in, out. In, out. He gives Jin one pensive gaze, taking in his emotionless expression and his lack luster silence-and with that his heart takes the beating of a one-sided confession. Knowing he has done everything he could, he drops the pendant back into his pocket, and turns to leave.
Just when Kame is about to reach a heavy, shuddering hand towards the door, his hearing catches the sound of quickly paced footsteps. He feels a body close in on him from behind, and he confirms this with the familiar hand that firmly grabs his outstretched one. He is spun around; the dim colors melting into an undecipherable hue as the world seemingly turned thrice its natural speed.
He feels hands on his cheeks,
The sensation of being pulled inwards,
Then Jin’s lips locking perfectly onto his own.
When Jin pulls away, he lets himself close his eyes, focusing on the smoothness of the other’s skin against the pads of his fingertips, and allows his forehead linger against Kame’s (And he’d be willing to do this even for centuries more).
“I’ll stay.” Jin whispers.
“I love you,
I’ve loved you,
Ever since,
In the past,
In the present,
In the future,
Forever.
And because of that I’ll stay.”
Kame feels his heart, and it’s perfectly, irrevocably healed.
- - -
“Give me back my jacket.” Nakamaru says, his hand outstretched towards Jin’s direction.
“It’s mine! You gave it to me as a goodbye gift, so it’s officially, 100 percent mine!” Jin retorts, clasping onto the wind breaker and snuggling into the fabric.
“Well you’re here now, aren’t you?”
“It doesn’t matter, no take backs!” Jin yells victoriously and hurries towards Kame, who is trying to smoothen down a rogue lock of hair in front of the rehearsal room mirrors. “Kame, make Nakamaru stop bugging me.” He pleads, encircling his arms around the others waist in an effort to get his request answered.
“It is basic gift-giving etiquette.” Kame states as-a-matter-of-factly, giving Nakamaru a slight look.
Nakamaru snorts, smirking. “I thought you guys weren’t that close?”
Kame, who is still preoccupied with both his untamed tresses and a contented Jin nuzzling through his hair, answers with an innocent smile projected against his face.
“I don’t remember saying that.”
Fin.