Fic: Set Piece (2/2) NC-17
JE Fic
Title: Set Piece (2/2)
Pairing: Jin & Kame; Jin & Yamapi; Kame & Koizumi; Yamapi & Abiru
Warnings: mature themes,not work-safe
Genre: RPF, slash, het, canon, post-debut
Wordcount: 13, 208
Navigate: Part 1 | Part 2
Note: Begun 2008.01.29, and finished 2008.09.14; with profound thanks to acchikocchi, ina, riccichan, C & K.
Continued from here.
April, 2007. Daikanyama.
You were quiet tonight, she said. Kame's hands tightened on the steering wheel. This evening was the first chance he'd had to see her in two weeks and if it had been up to him, they would have stayed home and ordered in. He needed to clear his head. Small talk at a dinner party was too lonely. He'd barely spoken to her all evening; after dinner, their hosts had monopolized her while a black-spectacled skateboard designer and a professor with silver hair took turns pawing at him.
Sorry, he said, trying for a light tone.
So tell me, she said, shifting in the passenger seat to angle toward him. I saw the news reports. How was it? How did it go?
Kame stared past the windshield wipers at the tail lights ahead and considered. The press conference, the anxiety and anticipation as they plunged into the Sendai shows. Everyone gathered around Jin, jovial and light, all pep talk and teasing underlined by a twisted cord of tension, the nerves they all shared. Kame'd held himself back a little, but in the end, he gave in to the look in Jin's eyes and threw his arm over his shoulder before they walked out. He thought he could feel Jin's heart fiercely pounding, just like his own. It felt good. There was a hard, sharp-edged elation, an incredible sense of relief among the six of them, and afterward, they whooped in triumph, reveling in the rightness of being six again. Things would be easier, he thought, they had to be. He wouldn't have to try so hard to be bigger than he was to fill the gaping black hole, the empty space. Kame could go back to just being himself again.
And yet it was inevitable that any high should be followed by waves of shattering second-guessing, mortification, an agony of analyzing everything through a magnifying lens that exposed each glaring mistake and misstep. He'd spent a week choking on it. He was glad, he was terrified. He overcompensated. But at the bottom of it all, he felt relieved. The relief was overwhelming, in fact.
It began to rain a little harder, and still he hadn't answered her. The windshield wipers went back and forth, whoosh. He cleared his throat.
"It went well," he said at last, and it was true. He could feel her eyebrows lift at his brevity. He knew what she was thinking, of course, just as he kept going over and over her words to him, what she'd told him on the phone that night in February.
After New York, Kame was more careful.
He considered what he thought he knew. He thought he knew himself, but that was a lie. He couldn't trust himself anymore. He thought he loved her, and he believed he did, still. He thought about all the things he wanted and all the things he couldn't have. Baseball, show business, Jin, her. He thought about all the things he'd given up. All the things he'd overcome. It was never enough. The past kept coming back. Or maybe it was all him, his own will. He kept diving into its cool dark water, addicted to the currents.
He'd made his peace with giving up on Jin, he had. He'd chosen to end it. He'd walked away. He'd moved on. So why the regrets? He had her now, didn't he?
Kame, listen to me...
He had her, he didn't have her. He loved her, he loved Jin. He loved his life, he hated it. He had nothing, he had everything. Jin had gone away for six months and in that time he'd just put his head down and done what he had to do. It was brutal, carrying that weight on his shoulders, feeling that responsibility for their future. He'd hated Jin so fucking much.
Only now he wondered if nothing had changed - or if what had changed hadn't changed enough - or maybe everything had changed, scorched earth, new life. He loved Jin. Not still, but again, all over again. He loved Jin and he thought he was okay with that. It was different now, a different love, and he was a different man.
He loved her now, too, and he thought he could love them both. Selfish as ever, he wanted the things he couldn't have. He had to let something go.
He was quiet as he rode the elevator with her, and he watched as she slipped out of her shoes and hung her coat in the closet. He followed her silently up the wide staircase into her bedroom, feeling something shift in his chest. He put his hand on her shoulder. She turned automatically, her eyes bright, enquiring.
So he gently pushed her into the wall, his fingers trailing down her arms to loop her wrists. He kissed her with an insistent mouth, and she melted beneath him, sighing until he stroked her sighs into something more.
He drew back and met her eyes.
In New York. I kissed him, he told her, watching her face closely. Her curious expression relaxed, and she smiled.
I thought so, she said, and she sounded satisfied. She waited.
And? she finally prompted when the silence dragged on. Kame kissed her again, harder this time, framing her face with his hands.
That's it, he replied eventually, and he shrugged a little. I don't need him, he said. I want you.
Are you sure about that? Her voice was breathless. Kame pushed aside silky fabric, slipping his hands inside, and he cupped her breasts. He was gratified by her small gasp and the way she arched into his touch.
Kame shook his head as he bent his head. He could feel himself unfocusing, losing himself in the softness of her body, in her warmth. He wanted this. He wanted her.
It doesn't matter, he mumbled incoherently. He rolled his tongue around her nipple before suckling. Her fingers slid into his hair and tightened.
It does, Kame, she said, and her voice cut through his desire, sending a chill of disquiet through him. He determined to ignore her, but she spoke again: just wait, and her voice slid over his nerves like ice and fire - just wait. You'll see.
November, 2007. Roppongi.
Yamapi let him walk into the apartment unmolested, but less than ten minutes of chit-chat had passed before Jin was unsubtly toppled backwards onto the couch with Yamapi straddling him. Gotcha, he said with a big smile.
Jin rolled his eyes.
You think you're so smart, Jin scoffed, looking up at Yamapi's pleased face and squirming to make himself comfortable.
Because I am smart, Yamapi retorted, already tugging at the hem of Jin's shirt. Jin obligingly lifted his arms over his head so Yamapi could pull it off. Yamapi's smile was smug: This is the smartest idea I've had all day.
W-wow, Jin said, stuttering as Yamapi leaned down and licked a nipple. You had an idea today, I'm impressed. You-wait, ow! Just- he bucked as Yamapi's teeth caught him. Yamapi's hands roamed and dippped. Piece by piece, the rest of their clothes landed on the floor beside the couch.
This is a great idea, Yamapi said, bending down for a kiss as he peeled off Jin's jeans: isn't it?
Yamapi took him in hand and a moan escaped. Wait, wait, nggggh, Jin protested. His back arched a little and so did his throat as his head went back: slow down-
Don't wanna, Yamapi mumbled, finding Jin's mouth. His kisses were warm and salty-sweet, addictive.
Isn't it good? he asked.
Of course it's good, Jin thought fleetingly - it was good, and that was the problem. This was what they did, he and Yamapi, just like they'd been doing for years, hanging out, fooling around. Being with Yamapi was fun and relaxing and effortless, and Jin was pretty sure that Yamapi felt the same way. It wasn't about sex, it never had been - one day it had just happened, and then it happened again, and pretty soon it was just one more thing they did. It wasn't serious or romantic and it had never been exclusive - it was like everything else in their friendship: wholesome, uncomplicated, easy.
It was good for both of them. Yamapi knew exactly what he liked, and - Jin wrestled with Yamapi, flipping him from the couch onto the floor so he could look down - he knew exactly what Yamapi liked.
Yamapi grinned broadly as he reached up and back for the lube which was conveniently perched on the nearby table. Jin pulled back to rest on his haunches, and he stroked himself. Watched Yamapi slick his fingers.
You don't want me to do it? he asked after a while, trying not to sound plaintive, and he bit his lip. Yamapi was putting on a show and enjoying it too much.
Thought you wanted me to slow down, Yamapi rasped, and his face was somehow tense and smug all at the same time. An uncomfortable thought began to prick Jin. He tried to ignore it.
Not anymore, Jin said abruptly, and this was where it got tricky because his thoughts were inexplicably slipping away. He tore open the wrapper and automatically rolled on the condom.
Okay, okay, Yamapi said, as though he sensed the drift. Jin's breath quickened as Yamapi shifted, and then Jin shifted, and Yamapi gripped his forearms in an iron lock, moaning softly.
Bastard, Yamapi said weakly.
His hair hung in his eyes, but Jin ignored it. To say that it felt good was an understatement. Yamapi always felt good. Yamapi's eyes were closed. Jin pulled out a little wrong on purpose and Yamapi's eyes popped open. In again, all the way, and listened to Yamapi's grunt.
Why was he feeling guilty now? It's not like Kame was making any sacrifices for him. He still went home with her, and no doubt fucked her in her fancy high-rise flat the same way he was fucking Yamapi right now-
-Yamapi writhed beneath him, and his eyes were black-
-black like Kame's eyes were black-
No, Jin breathed, his throat tightening, darkness closing in.
Yes, Yamapi moaned. Yes, yes, yes.
*
Jin gaped when he came out of the shower later and caught glimpse of the pizza boxes and take-away cartons of pasta littering the shiny countertop in Yamapi's small kitchen. Who else is coming for dinner? he asked. He accepted the beer can Yamapi thrust into his hand, and he tilted it to his mouth.
Don't tell me, Yamapi smirked, that you haven't worked up an appetite.
*
Jin drowned any pinpricks of guilt in copious amounts of strictly off-diet booze, video games and more sex. He was drunk by ten, and he had his head in Yamapi's lap by eleven, where he floated with his eyes closed in a pleasant empty space, barely listening to the drone of the tv.
At nearly midnight, Jin's phone went off on the table, and of course he'd forgotten to change the ringtone so Yamapi knew exactly who was calling. Jin grabbed it, scrambled to his feet, and took it into the next room.
After a few minutes, he padded back.
You're not seriously leaving, Yamapi said, incredulous, when he caught sight of Jin's face. Jin leaned down and plucked his car keys from the coffee table which was littered with empty beer cans and condom wrappers. He'd have to call a taxi; no way he was asking Yamapi for a ride.
Jin unsteadily straightened.
I am, he announced defiantly to the room, which consisted of Yamapi and noisy late night television. I'll get my car tomorrow, okay?
I can't believe you, Yamapi said flatly, shaking his head. Jin winced. He'd tried to explain to Yamapi, a few times over the last two months, but Yamapi was having a hard time accepting the new development in an old situation.
You always do this, Yamapi would point out, you always go back to him whenever he wants you.
It's not like that.
Then what is it? Yamapi would press his lips together and give him that look that Jin hated, the one that made him feel small.
I like Kame.
No, Yamapi would say witheringly, you like pain.
No doubt, Yamapi had hoped that the Jin-and-Kame show was long over. He'd at least been kind enough not to bring up Kame's girlfriend.
Shut up. Jin swayed. I'll call you later.
Don't bother, Yamapi huffed. He shoved off the couch to stand. I'm going out. Which meant, Jin knew, he was going to find Abiru. Sure enough, Yamapi found his phone in his discarded jeans and walked away. Jin heard him say, Yuu-chan? He listened to the sing-song rhythm of Yamapi's voice for a few seconds before he stretched, took a deep breath, and began to look for his clothes.
--
In the end, they are both naked and clean, so clean, side by side on the floor of the shower stall. Warm water rains down on them. Kame's eyes are closed, his expression is blank. He sits with his head tipped back against the tiled wall.
"Come on," Jin says, pushing himself up. He stretches out his hand to touch Kame's head. "We can't stay here."
Kame lifts his head and their eyes meet. Kame pushes wet hair out of his eyes before he takes Jin's hand.
*
"How do you feel?" Jin asks cautiously as they towel off. He's hard again, and feeling incredibly selfish for eyeing Kame up, but he's shallow enough that it's hard to ignore all those new muscles, Kame's nicely-defined torso, the long lines carved in his thighs. Jin mouth dries. Kame catches him looking, and cocks his head, making a small noncommittal sound in reply.
He just goes on looking at Jin as he rubs his hair with the towel. This is how Jin loves Kame best - just himself, all his walls down. He thinks this is why he keeps coming back, for these moments of candor.
"What do you want, Jin?" It's the same question, spoken soft, only this time it's an invitation. It's the question Jin keeps answering again and again, always the same. You, Kame. You. I just want you. He wonders when Kame is finally going to accept it, but Jin knows he's never made it easy for Kame, not when there are so many complications. He'll keep saying it, though. This thing with Kame - well, just like his job, he had to go away to discover that it was the thing he knows how to do, the thing he wants to do, however he can. He doesn't expect anyone to understand that, certainly not Yamapi, but Jin doesn't give a fuck. Some things don't have to make sense.
Seeing Kame's face, Jin takes a chance. "I want you to-"
His voice is hoarse, and he surprises himself when he falters. He can't quite get the rest out.
"Yeah?" Kame drifts nearer, still toweling his so-much-shorter-now dark hair.
"Yeah," Jin says, cupping Kame's chin with one hand-
*
The last time had been a month ago, exhausted, and a little sad, sometime before Countdown. Jin squeezes his eyes shut. God, Countdown. Yamapi had been an animal after that, Jin remembers he had bruises for days-
Jin cuts off that train of thought because it's more than a little inappropriate, and he's already losing himself in the slick friction of Kame's fingers.
"Good?" Kame murmurs, studying him.
Jin nods, his cock throbbing impatiently, and he's now consumed by a welter of sensation, of throat-tightening emotion, of awe. He wants this to last forever. "Yeah," he answers in a rough voice, "Great."
Jin spreads himself out after Kame withdraws and shifts into position. Kame's damp hair curls against his scalp; Jin thinks it makes him look sexy, but not as sexy as the flush beginning to rise up Kame's torso, or the way Kame's eyes have grown dark, or that little concentrated frown creased between his eyebrows, or the way he catches the tip of his tongue between his teeth. Kame never does things halfway.
Jin can't help it, he moans all the way down, from his throat, with his lips pressed tightly together, until Kame's pelvis is flush against him. The fullness is nearly intolerable. Jin's stomach clenches, his jaw tight and working, but he's silent, breathing hard through his nose while Kame holds still. He shouldn't be this tight, Jin thinks. Hours ago it had been Yamapi, but god, not like this. Nothing was like this. He knows he can never explain exactly what Kame does to him - from across a room, without ever touching him, without a word - all the embarrassing ways that Kame breaks him open and slides inside.
"Okay," Jin breathes, giving Kame a tiny nod. Above him, Kame's face is taut with the strain, but instead of closing down, Jin watches in astonishment as something changes with his assent. Kame softens, relaxes - until he is utterly naked and wide open and god, oh god, so young.
"I want you," Kame exhales, barely audible. His eyes - his narrow, slanted chocolate eyes - are hot and needy, and the electricity coursing through Jin reaches an unbearable voltage. Kame lowers his head to take Jin's mouth in a slow, wet kiss, and when Jin lifts his head to push back into that kiss, only then does Kame pull back and move his hips in a single, undulating wave.
Jin groans into Kame's mouth, his throat aching, his muscles cramping, his fingers white and bloodless where they clench and dig into Kame's arms.
Jin's tried to get over him. He's tried to leave this behind. He tried until he didn't want to anymore and he knows that he'll probably always go when Kame calls because no matter how much it might hurt, somehow, perversely, it feels right. It feels like the right place to be.
Kame doesn't stop, moving into him slow and slow, rocking back and forth smoothly, very slowly gaining momentum. After a while, Jin only dimly realizes he's babbling but he has no idea what he's saying, and Kame's voice intertwines with his, a rhythmic counterpoint to the motion of their bodies.
"Don't stop," Jin pleads breathlessly.
Kame doesn't stop. Aching, Jin reaches down for his cock, head tossing, eyes squeezed shut. When he opens his eyes onto Kame's ferocious black eyes, he drowns in Kame's abandon, wants to lick the sweat slicked on Kame's chest, wants to crack himself open and find room for Kame to fit inside.
"Jin," Kame's saying, "god, Jin. Just."
Kame's wild now, his lean body coiling and uncoiling like a whip snapping through the air. He leans back on his hands, driving his hips as hard as Jin can take it, and still Jin meets him, strains against him, skin slapping skin, and he claws for more.
When Kame comes, Jin watches him break apart with greedy satisfaction, memorizing his damp, flushed enraptured expression. Kame slumps, dropping his head, and his slick chest heaves. Blindly, Kame reaches out to take over, and Jin lets him, clutching the sheets for purchase, giving himself up to Kame still inside, and to Kame's fist wrapped around him, until his toes curl into the mattress, his muscles quiver and cramp, until he shudders helplessly, crying out, to a boneless, liquid end.
January, 2008. Daikanyama.
The mask was gone now, and so was the collar, and yet he could still feel them imprinted into his skin. Kame rubbed his throat. He could still feel her fingertips there, buckling and unbuckling him, soothing him, owning him, giving him away. His fingers came away caked with sparkling gold. Gingerly he rummaged in his bag for something to clean them before he left pale delicate prints everywhere.
He was standing with his coat on in her foyer, where she'd left him, waiting for her to come back. He listened to the chattering voices from her spacious living room; they echoed strangely, bouncing off her hard floors and high ceilings, and the noise shredded his nerves until he wanted to crouch by the door with his hands over his ears. He stood straighter. Clenched his teeth together. Took deep breaths.
He didn't hear her come back until she was standing beside him. He refocused from the middle distance to take her in.
A car will be waiting for you downstairs in the garage. The usual place, she said.
Thank you, he replied automatically. His face felt stiff.
You were wonderful tonight, she said in a soft voice. So beautiful. Did Eri-chan tell you?
He nodded. The artist had drawn him aside not long ago to praise him, and at first, he hadn't understood why. All at once he realized that she considered him to be a part of the artwork, and the nausea that had been growing for hours rose in a horrifying wave. She'd told him more - regretfully - that she'd love to keep him if she could, that she could use a muse, and she'd smiled. He was relieved when she didn't touch him the way he thought she wanted to.
She's a lucky woman, the artist had told him with a wistful expression. She'd even bowed to him, thanking him again, and embarrassed, he'd thanked her as well, choking a little on the words.
Now, Kame met the lucky woman's eyes. He swallowed, struggling to dispel the hurt from his voice: You don't want me to stay?
She shook her head. It's late, Kame-chan. You should go home, she told him. She reached out to caress his face, heedless of the paint. You're a beautiful, sweet boy, you know that, right?
Kame's head spun. When the dizziness passed, he realized she was twining his fingers into the cords around a large white box.
There's only one copy, she said intently, her tone penetrating his fog, and her expression was very serious. He thought she was talking about the mask.
You can do whatever you want with it, she went on - but - she hesitated - well-
He didn't understand. He frowned in confusion.
What? he asked stupidly.
Never mind, she said, looking sorrowful - and somehow, apprehensive. Goodnight, Kame-chan. Thank you.
And she bowed to him.
Numb, Kame rode an empty elevator down to the parking garage, and after he slid into the backseat of the waiting black sedan, he pulled out his cellphone with trembling fingers. When the car glided up the ramp and onto the street, he hit send.
--
Jin wakes to dim, blue dawn, and when he turns over and reaches out, Kame is gone.
*
Kame looks up when he feels Jin squat beside him in the chilly living room. The mask hangs from Kame's fingertips where he's been studying it for long, mindless minutes, shivering slightly in his thin yukata. There are a few bent feathers but he's managed to straighten them a little. Incredibly, the mask is otherwise undamaged from Jin's earlier rude handling.
Jin folds his arms on top of his knees and lowers his chin; Kame follows Jin's gaze to the floor. The disc lies on the floor before them, inscribed with the neat characters of Jin's name in a woman's hand.
Jin stretches out his hand toward it, and then he turns to face Kame.
"What-" he begins. Kame rests his cheek on his forearm draped over the sharp angles of his knees, and he meets Jin's eyes. "What will you do with it?" Jin asks.
Kame's eyes flicker.
"Be my guest," he whispers hoarsely.
Jin's eyes close briefly, and his lips move without sound for just an instant before he seizes the disc, stands, and stalks away. From the kitchen, Kame hears some banging and snapping before Jin returns with a small plastic conbini bag which he holds out. Kame peers inside. Only shards remain, broken pieces that can tell no tales.
"Come on," Jin says, as he pulls Kame to his feet. "Let's go."
The decision, it turned out, was surprisingly easy. Jin's still a little shaky, but it's relief and certainty that ground him.
Kame carefully places the mask on the clean part of the coffee table, away from the sticky mess of spilled cognac.
"Where are we going?" Kame asks when he looks up.
The corners of Jin's mouth quirk up in a quick grin, and he shrugs. "Does it matter? I just...I want to go somewhere with you. Anywhere."
"Do you know what time it is?" Kame asks, cocking his head. Warmth floods his chest and something suspiciously like tears prickles at the corners of his eyes.
"Early," Jin replies easily. "Which means it's perfect. No one would expect us to be up this early, right?"
Kame frowns. "Or they'll think we've been out all night," he counters.
"Shut up," Jin retorts, but he's smiling, and his eyes glow. "I don't care, Kame. Let's just go. I want," Jin pauses and swallows noticeably. "I want to be with you. Just you."
Jin's words feel momentous. Kame returns his gaze for a long moment, and he sees familiar impatience in Jin's eyes along with other things, wheels turning, honesty, and sharp determination.
"Okay," Kame says at last, feeling something tear open, maybe his chest, maybe his heart. The world goes silent, his head swims. "Okay."
He's holding on now, clinging for dear life.
"I've got you," Jin whispers in his ear.
Kame sniffles into Jin's shoulder. "But," he begins, "she. You-you-how-"
"Shush," Jin says.
Kame pulls back. "What about-"
"What do you want, Kame?" Jin interrupts softly. "Don't think about them. Think about what you want. You don't have to decide now. Just...tell me later, okay? When you're ready."
"I have," Kame says, just as softly. "I know what I want." He bites his lip hard, stricken. Nearly two years of his life-
Somehow, he isn't sorry.
But maybe he's ready.
Jin gives him a long, measured look. Kame takes a deep breath and lets him look as deep as he wants.
"All right, then," Jin says at last, trying not to smile, so when he does it comes out lopsided. "If you're sure."
"I'm sure," Kame says, turning to nuzzle Jin's neck and smiling into his warm skin. "I am."
--
Kame hangs the bruised mask on the wall of his new flat. Jin sees it every time he comes over; he never asks why.
FIN
Notes:
1. soundtrack, 16 songs; password-protected .rar: mask. If you snag this, I'd love to know what you think. :)
2. At the end of a long, hard project, I feel relieved that it's over, and deeply grateful to everyone who read for me and talked me through this. All I can say is 'thank you.' This project nearly died, more than once, but because of these clever, critical and supportive people, it didn't. acchikocchi and K, in particular, read this from the early pages and saw it through every tortuous change - and heroically kept reading. Many, many thanks. ♥
3. [ETA] Just in case anyone's wondering - I happen to like Koizumi and I loved the idea of Kame [allegedly] dating her. Like I mentioned in the comments below, "it made me like him a whole lot more to think that he might date a mature, self-assured, successful woman, regardless of her age."
--
Fanfiction Index
contact: shontosgarden at gmail dot com
Title: Set Piece (2/2)
Pairing: Jin & Kame; Jin & Yamapi; Kame & Koizumi; Yamapi & Abiru
Warnings: mature themes,not work-safe
Genre: RPF, slash, het, canon, post-debut
Wordcount: 13, 208
Navigate: Part 1 | Part 2
Note: Begun 2008.01.29, and finished 2008.09.14; with profound thanks to acchikocchi, ina, riccichan, C & K.
Continued from here.
April, 2007. Daikanyama.
You were quiet tonight, she said. Kame's hands tightened on the steering wheel. This evening was the first chance he'd had to see her in two weeks and if it had been up to him, they would have stayed home and ordered in. He needed to clear his head. Small talk at a dinner party was too lonely. He'd barely spoken to her all evening; after dinner, their hosts had monopolized her while a black-spectacled skateboard designer and a professor with silver hair took turns pawing at him.
Sorry, he said, trying for a light tone.
So tell me, she said, shifting in the passenger seat to angle toward him. I saw the news reports. How was it? How did it go?
Kame stared past the windshield wipers at the tail lights ahead and considered. The press conference, the anxiety and anticipation as they plunged into the Sendai shows. Everyone gathered around Jin, jovial and light, all pep talk and teasing underlined by a twisted cord of tension, the nerves they all shared. Kame'd held himself back a little, but in the end, he gave in to the look in Jin's eyes and threw his arm over his shoulder before they walked out. He thought he could feel Jin's heart fiercely pounding, just like his own. It felt good. There was a hard, sharp-edged elation, an incredible sense of relief among the six of them, and afterward, they whooped in triumph, reveling in the rightness of being six again. Things would be easier, he thought, they had to be. He wouldn't have to try so hard to be bigger than he was to fill the gaping black hole, the empty space. Kame could go back to just being himself again.
And yet it was inevitable that any high should be followed by waves of shattering second-guessing, mortification, an agony of analyzing everything through a magnifying lens that exposed each glaring mistake and misstep. He'd spent a week choking on it. He was glad, he was terrified. He overcompensated. But at the bottom of it all, he felt relieved. The relief was overwhelming, in fact.
It began to rain a little harder, and still he hadn't answered her. The windshield wipers went back and forth, whoosh. He cleared his throat.
"It went well," he said at last, and it was true. He could feel her eyebrows lift at his brevity. He knew what she was thinking, of course, just as he kept going over and over her words to him, what she'd told him on the phone that night in February.
After New York, Kame was more careful.
He considered what he thought he knew. He thought he knew himself, but that was a lie. He couldn't trust himself anymore. He thought he loved her, and he believed he did, still. He thought about all the things he wanted and all the things he couldn't have. Baseball, show business, Jin, her. He thought about all the things he'd given up. All the things he'd overcome. It was never enough. The past kept coming back. Or maybe it was all him, his own will. He kept diving into its cool dark water, addicted to the currents.
He'd made his peace with giving up on Jin, he had. He'd chosen to end it. He'd walked away. He'd moved on. So why the regrets? He had her now, didn't he?
Kame, listen to me...
He had her, he didn't have her. He loved her, he loved Jin. He loved his life, he hated it. He had nothing, he had everything. Jin had gone away for six months and in that time he'd just put his head down and done what he had to do. It was brutal, carrying that weight on his shoulders, feeling that responsibility for their future. He'd hated Jin so fucking much.
Only now he wondered if nothing had changed - or if what had changed hadn't changed enough - or maybe everything had changed, scorched earth, new life. He loved Jin. Not still, but again, all over again. He loved Jin and he thought he was okay with that. It was different now, a different love, and he was a different man.
He loved her now, too, and he thought he could love them both. Selfish as ever, he wanted the things he couldn't have. He had to let something go.
He was quiet as he rode the elevator with her, and he watched as she slipped out of her shoes and hung her coat in the closet. He followed her silently up the wide staircase into her bedroom, feeling something shift in his chest. He put his hand on her shoulder. She turned automatically, her eyes bright, enquiring.
So he gently pushed her into the wall, his fingers trailing down her arms to loop her wrists. He kissed her with an insistent mouth, and she melted beneath him, sighing until he stroked her sighs into something more.
He drew back and met her eyes.
In New York. I kissed him, he told her, watching her face closely. Her curious expression relaxed, and she smiled.
I thought so, she said, and she sounded satisfied. She waited.
And? she finally prompted when the silence dragged on. Kame kissed her again, harder this time, framing her face with his hands.
That's it, he replied eventually, and he shrugged a little. I don't need him, he said. I want you.
Are you sure about that? Her voice was breathless. Kame pushed aside silky fabric, slipping his hands inside, and he cupped her breasts. He was gratified by her small gasp and the way she arched into his touch.
Kame shook his head as he bent his head. He could feel himself unfocusing, losing himself in the softness of her body, in her warmth. He wanted this. He wanted her.
It doesn't matter, he mumbled incoherently. He rolled his tongue around her nipple before suckling. Her fingers slid into his hair and tightened.
It does, Kame, she said, and her voice cut through his desire, sending a chill of disquiet through him. He determined to ignore her, but she spoke again: just wait, and her voice slid over his nerves like ice and fire - just wait. You'll see.
November, 2007. Roppongi.
Yamapi let him walk into the apartment unmolested, but less than ten minutes of chit-chat had passed before Jin was unsubtly toppled backwards onto the couch with Yamapi straddling him. Gotcha, he said with a big smile.
Jin rolled his eyes.
You think you're so smart, Jin scoffed, looking up at Yamapi's pleased face and squirming to make himself comfortable.
Because I am smart, Yamapi retorted, already tugging at the hem of Jin's shirt. Jin obligingly lifted his arms over his head so Yamapi could pull it off. Yamapi's smile was smug: This is the smartest idea I've had all day.
W-wow, Jin said, stuttering as Yamapi leaned down and licked a nipple. You had an idea today, I'm impressed. You-wait, ow! Just- he bucked as Yamapi's teeth caught him. Yamapi's hands roamed and dippped. Piece by piece, the rest of their clothes landed on the floor beside the couch.
This is a great idea, Yamapi said, bending down for a kiss as he peeled off Jin's jeans: isn't it?
Yamapi took him in hand and a moan escaped. Wait, wait, nggggh, Jin protested. His back arched a little and so did his throat as his head went back: slow down-
Don't wanna, Yamapi mumbled, finding Jin's mouth. His kisses were warm and salty-sweet, addictive.
Isn't it good? he asked.
Of course it's good, Jin thought fleetingly - it was good, and that was the problem. This was what they did, he and Yamapi, just like they'd been doing for years, hanging out, fooling around. Being with Yamapi was fun and relaxing and effortless, and Jin was pretty sure that Yamapi felt the same way. It wasn't about sex, it never had been - one day it had just happened, and then it happened again, and pretty soon it was just one more thing they did. It wasn't serious or romantic and it had never been exclusive - it was like everything else in their friendship: wholesome, uncomplicated, easy.
It was good for both of them. Yamapi knew exactly what he liked, and - Jin wrestled with Yamapi, flipping him from the couch onto the floor so he could look down - he knew exactly what Yamapi liked.
Yamapi grinned broadly as he reached up and back for the lube which was conveniently perched on the nearby table. Jin pulled back to rest on his haunches, and he stroked himself. Watched Yamapi slick his fingers.
You don't want me to do it? he asked after a while, trying not to sound plaintive, and he bit his lip. Yamapi was putting on a show and enjoying it too much.
Thought you wanted me to slow down, Yamapi rasped, and his face was somehow tense and smug all at the same time. An uncomfortable thought began to prick Jin. He tried to ignore it.
Not anymore, Jin said abruptly, and this was where it got tricky because his thoughts were inexplicably slipping away. He tore open the wrapper and automatically rolled on the condom.
Okay, okay, Yamapi said, as though he sensed the drift. Jin's breath quickened as Yamapi shifted, and then Jin shifted, and Yamapi gripped his forearms in an iron lock, moaning softly.
Bastard, Yamapi said weakly.
His hair hung in his eyes, but Jin ignored it. To say that it felt good was an understatement. Yamapi always felt good. Yamapi's eyes were closed. Jin pulled out a little wrong on purpose and Yamapi's eyes popped open. In again, all the way, and listened to Yamapi's grunt.
Why was he feeling guilty now? It's not like Kame was making any sacrifices for him. He still went home with her, and no doubt fucked her in her fancy high-rise flat the same way he was fucking Yamapi right now-
-Yamapi writhed beneath him, and his eyes were black-
-black like Kame's eyes were black-
No, Jin breathed, his throat tightening, darkness closing in.
Yes, Yamapi moaned. Yes, yes, yes.
*
Jin gaped when he came out of the shower later and caught glimpse of the pizza boxes and take-away cartons of pasta littering the shiny countertop in Yamapi's small kitchen. Who else is coming for dinner? he asked. He accepted the beer can Yamapi thrust into his hand, and he tilted it to his mouth.
Don't tell me, Yamapi smirked, that you haven't worked up an appetite.
*
Jin drowned any pinpricks of guilt in copious amounts of strictly off-diet booze, video games and more sex. He was drunk by ten, and he had his head in Yamapi's lap by eleven, where he floated with his eyes closed in a pleasant empty space, barely listening to the drone of the tv.
At nearly midnight, Jin's phone went off on the table, and of course he'd forgotten to change the ringtone so Yamapi knew exactly who was calling. Jin grabbed it, scrambled to his feet, and took it into the next room.
After a few minutes, he padded back.
You're not seriously leaving, Yamapi said, incredulous, when he caught sight of Jin's face. Jin leaned down and plucked his car keys from the coffee table which was littered with empty beer cans and condom wrappers. He'd have to call a taxi; no way he was asking Yamapi for a ride.
Jin unsteadily straightened.
I am, he announced defiantly to the room, which consisted of Yamapi and noisy late night television. I'll get my car tomorrow, okay?
I can't believe you, Yamapi said flatly, shaking his head. Jin winced. He'd tried to explain to Yamapi, a few times over the last two months, but Yamapi was having a hard time accepting the new development in an old situation.
You always do this, Yamapi would point out, you always go back to him whenever he wants you.
It's not like that.
Then what is it? Yamapi would press his lips together and give him that look that Jin hated, the one that made him feel small.
I like Kame.
No, Yamapi would say witheringly, you like pain.
No doubt, Yamapi had hoped that the Jin-and-Kame show was long over. He'd at least been kind enough not to bring up Kame's girlfriend.
Shut up. Jin swayed. I'll call you later.
Don't bother, Yamapi huffed. He shoved off the couch to stand. I'm going out. Which meant, Jin knew, he was going to find Abiru. Sure enough, Yamapi found his phone in his discarded jeans and walked away. Jin heard him say, Yuu-chan? He listened to the sing-song rhythm of Yamapi's voice for a few seconds before he stretched, took a deep breath, and began to look for his clothes.
--
In the end, they are both naked and clean, so clean, side by side on the floor of the shower stall. Warm water rains down on them. Kame's eyes are closed, his expression is blank. He sits with his head tipped back against the tiled wall.
"Come on," Jin says, pushing himself up. He stretches out his hand to touch Kame's head. "We can't stay here."
Kame lifts his head and their eyes meet. Kame pushes wet hair out of his eyes before he takes Jin's hand.
*
"How do you feel?" Jin asks cautiously as they towel off. He's hard again, and feeling incredibly selfish for eyeing Kame up, but he's shallow enough that it's hard to ignore all those new muscles, Kame's nicely-defined torso, the long lines carved in his thighs. Jin mouth dries. Kame catches him looking, and cocks his head, making a small noncommittal sound in reply.
He just goes on looking at Jin as he rubs his hair with the towel. This is how Jin loves Kame best - just himself, all his walls down. He thinks this is why he keeps coming back, for these moments of candor.
"What do you want, Jin?" It's the same question, spoken soft, only this time it's an invitation. It's the question Jin keeps answering again and again, always the same. You, Kame. You. I just want you. He wonders when Kame is finally going to accept it, but Jin knows he's never made it easy for Kame, not when there are so many complications. He'll keep saying it, though. This thing with Kame - well, just like his job, he had to go away to discover that it was the thing he knows how to do, the thing he wants to do, however he can. He doesn't expect anyone to understand that, certainly not Yamapi, but Jin doesn't give a fuck. Some things don't have to make sense.
Seeing Kame's face, Jin takes a chance. "I want you to-"
His voice is hoarse, and he surprises himself when he falters. He can't quite get the rest out.
"Yeah?" Kame drifts nearer, still toweling his so-much-shorter-now dark hair.
"Yeah," Jin says, cupping Kame's chin with one hand-
*
The last time had been a month ago, exhausted, and a little sad, sometime before Countdown. Jin squeezes his eyes shut. God, Countdown. Yamapi had been an animal after that, Jin remembers he had bruises for days-
Jin cuts off that train of thought because it's more than a little inappropriate, and he's already losing himself in the slick friction of Kame's fingers.
"Good?" Kame murmurs, studying him.
Jin nods, his cock throbbing impatiently, and he's now consumed by a welter of sensation, of throat-tightening emotion, of awe. He wants this to last forever. "Yeah," he answers in a rough voice, "Great."
Jin spreads himself out after Kame withdraws and shifts into position. Kame's damp hair curls against his scalp; Jin thinks it makes him look sexy, but not as sexy as the flush beginning to rise up Kame's torso, or the way Kame's eyes have grown dark, or that little concentrated frown creased between his eyebrows, or the way he catches the tip of his tongue between his teeth. Kame never does things halfway.
Jin can't help it, he moans all the way down, from his throat, with his lips pressed tightly together, until Kame's pelvis is flush against him. The fullness is nearly intolerable. Jin's stomach clenches, his jaw tight and working, but he's silent, breathing hard through his nose while Kame holds still. He shouldn't be this tight, Jin thinks. Hours ago it had been Yamapi, but god, not like this. Nothing was like this. He knows he can never explain exactly what Kame does to him - from across a room, without ever touching him, without a word - all the embarrassing ways that Kame breaks him open and slides inside.
"Okay," Jin breathes, giving Kame a tiny nod. Above him, Kame's face is taut with the strain, but instead of closing down, Jin watches in astonishment as something changes with his assent. Kame softens, relaxes - until he is utterly naked and wide open and god, oh god, so young.
"I want you," Kame exhales, barely audible. His eyes - his narrow, slanted chocolate eyes - are hot and needy, and the electricity coursing through Jin reaches an unbearable voltage. Kame lowers his head to take Jin's mouth in a slow, wet kiss, and when Jin lifts his head to push back into that kiss, only then does Kame pull back and move his hips in a single, undulating wave.
Jin groans into Kame's mouth, his throat aching, his muscles cramping, his fingers white and bloodless where they clench and dig into Kame's arms.
Jin's tried to get over him. He's tried to leave this behind. He tried until he didn't want to anymore and he knows that he'll probably always go when Kame calls because no matter how much it might hurt, somehow, perversely, it feels right. It feels like the right place to be.
Kame doesn't stop, moving into him slow and slow, rocking back and forth smoothly, very slowly gaining momentum. After a while, Jin only dimly realizes he's babbling but he has no idea what he's saying, and Kame's voice intertwines with his, a rhythmic counterpoint to the motion of their bodies.
"Don't stop," Jin pleads breathlessly.
Kame doesn't stop. Aching, Jin reaches down for his cock, head tossing, eyes squeezed shut. When he opens his eyes onto Kame's ferocious black eyes, he drowns in Kame's abandon, wants to lick the sweat slicked on Kame's chest, wants to crack himself open and find room for Kame to fit inside.
"Jin," Kame's saying, "god, Jin. Just."
Kame's wild now, his lean body coiling and uncoiling like a whip snapping through the air. He leans back on his hands, driving his hips as hard as Jin can take it, and still Jin meets him, strains against him, skin slapping skin, and he claws for more.
When Kame comes, Jin watches him break apart with greedy satisfaction, memorizing his damp, flushed enraptured expression. Kame slumps, dropping his head, and his slick chest heaves. Blindly, Kame reaches out to take over, and Jin lets him, clutching the sheets for purchase, giving himself up to Kame still inside, and to Kame's fist wrapped around him, until his toes curl into the mattress, his muscles quiver and cramp, until he shudders helplessly, crying out, to a boneless, liquid end.
January, 2008. Daikanyama.
The mask was gone now, and so was the collar, and yet he could still feel them imprinted into his skin. Kame rubbed his throat. He could still feel her fingertips there, buckling and unbuckling him, soothing him, owning him, giving him away. His fingers came away caked with sparkling gold. Gingerly he rummaged in his bag for something to clean them before he left pale delicate prints everywhere.
He was standing with his coat on in her foyer, where she'd left him, waiting for her to come back. He listened to the chattering voices from her spacious living room; they echoed strangely, bouncing off her hard floors and high ceilings, and the noise shredded his nerves until he wanted to crouch by the door with his hands over his ears. He stood straighter. Clenched his teeth together. Took deep breaths.
He didn't hear her come back until she was standing beside him. He refocused from the middle distance to take her in.
A car will be waiting for you downstairs in the garage. The usual place, she said.
Thank you, he replied automatically. His face felt stiff.
You were wonderful tonight, she said in a soft voice. So beautiful. Did Eri-chan tell you?
He nodded. The artist had drawn him aside not long ago to praise him, and at first, he hadn't understood why. All at once he realized that she considered him to be a part of the artwork, and the nausea that had been growing for hours rose in a horrifying wave. She'd told him more - regretfully - that she'd love to keep him if she could, that she could use a muse, and she'd smiled. He was relieved when she didn't touch him the way he thought she wanted to.
She's a lucky woman, the artist had told him with a wistful expression. She'd even bowed to him, thanking him again, and embarrassed, he'd thanked her as well, choking a little on the words.
Now, Kame met the lucky woman's eyes. He swallowed, struggling to dispel the hurt from his voice: You don't want me to stay?
She shook her head. It's late, Kame-chan. You should go home, she told him. She reached out to caress his face, heedless of the paint. You're a beautiful, sweet boy, you know that, right?
Kame's head spun. When the dizziness passed, he realized she was twining his fingers into the cords around a large white box.
There's only one copy, she said intently, her tone penetrating his fog, and her expression was very serious. He thought she was talking about the mask.
You can do whatever you want with it, she went on - but - she hesitated - well-
He didn't understand. He frowned in confusion.
What? he asked stupidly.
Never mind, she said, looking sorrowful - and somehow, apprehensive. Goodnight, Kame-chan. Thank you.
And she bowed to him.
Numb, Kame rode an empty elevator down to the parking garage, and after he slid into the backseat of the waiting black sedan, he pulled out his cellphone with trembling fingers. When the car glided up the ramp and onto the street, he hit send.
--
Jin wakes to dim, blue dawn, and when he turns over and reaches out, Kame is gone.
*
Kame looks up when he feels Jin squat beside him in the chilly living room. The mask hangs from Kame's fingertips where he's been studying it for long, mindless minutes, shivering slightly in his thin yukata. There are a few bent feathers but he's managed to straighten them a little. Incredibly, the mask is otherwise undamaged from Jin's earlier rude handling.
Jin folds his arms on top of his knees and lowers his chin; Kame follows Jin's gaze to the floor. The disc lies on the floor before them, inscribed with the neat characters of Jin's name in a woman's hand.
Jin stretches out his hand toward it, and then he turns to face Kame.
"What-" he begins. Kame rests his cheek on his forearm draped over the sharp angles of his knees, and he meets Jin's eyes. "What will you do with it?" Jin asks.
Kame's eyes flicker.
"Be my guest," he whispers hoarsely.
Jin's eyes close briefly, and his lips move without sound for just an instant before he seizes the disc, stands, and stalks away. From the kitchen, Kame hears some banging and snapping before Jin returns with a small plastic conbini bag which he holds out. Kame peers inside. Only shards remain, broken pieces that can tell no tales.
"Come on," Jin says, as he pulls Kame to his feet. "Let's go."
The decision, it turned out, was surprisingly easy. Jin's still a little shaky, but it's relief and certainty that ground him.
Kame carefully places the mask on the clean part of the coffee table, away from the sticky mess of spilled cognac.
"Where are we going?" Kame asks when he looks up.
The corners of Jin's mouth quirk up in a quick grin, and he shrugs. "Does it matter? I just...I want to go somewhere with you. Anywhere."
"Do you know what time it is?" Kame asks, cocking his head. Warmth floods his chest and something suspiciously like tears prickles at the corners of his eyes.
"Early," Jin replies easily. "Which means it's perfect. No one would expect us to be up this early, right?"
Kame frowns. "Or they'll think we've been out all night," he counters.
"Shut up," Jin retorts, but he's smiling, and his eyes glow. "I don't care, Kame. Let's just go. I want," Jin pauses and swallows noticeably. "I want to be with you. Just you."
Jin's words feel momentous. Kame returns his gaze for a long moment, and he sees familiar impatience in Jin's eyes along with other things, wheels turning, honesty, and sharp determination.
"Okay," Kame says at last, feeling something tear open, maybe his chest, maybe his heart. The world goes silent, his head swims. "Okay."
He's holding on now, clinging for dear life.
"I've got you," Jin whispers in his ear.
Kame sniffles into Jin's shoulder. "But," he begins, "she. You-you-how-"
"Shush," Jin says.
Kame pulls back. "What about-"
"What do you want, Kame?" Jin interrupts softly. "Don't think about them. Think about what you want. You don't have to decide now. Just...tell me later, okay? When you're ready."
"I have," Kame says, just as softly. "I know what I want." He bites his lip hard, stricken. Nearly two years of his life-
Somehow, he isn't sorry.
But maybe he's ready.
Jin gives him a long, measured look. Kame takes a deep breath and lets him look as deep as he wants.
"All right, then," Jin says at last, trying not to smile, so when he does it comes out lopsided. "If you're sure."
"I'm sure," Kame says, turning to nuzzle Jin's neck and smiling into his warm skin. "I am."
--
Kame hangs the bruised mask on the wall of his new flat. Jin sees it every time he comes over; he never asks why.
FIN
Notes:
1. soundtrack, 16 songs; password-protected .rar: mask. If you snag this, I'd love to know what you think. :)
2. At the end of a long, hard project, I feel relieved that it's over, and deeply grateful to everyone who read for me and talked me through this. All I can say is 'thank you.' This project nearly died, more than once, but because of these clever, critical and supportive people, it didn't. acchikocchi and K, in particular, read this from the early pages and saw it through every tortuous change - and heroically kept reading. Many, many thanks. ♥
3. [ETA] Just in case anyone's wondering - I happen to like Koizumi and I loved the idea of Kame [allegedly] dating her. Like I mentioned in the comments below, "it made me like him a whole lot more to think that he might date a mature, self-assured, successful woman, regardless of her age."
--
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contact: shontosgarden at gmail dot com