[02/04] A Prelude to Number Six?
title. A Prelude to Number Six?
pairing. akame (je)
rating. r
word count. 04760 (overall: 17990)
Jin texts him the name of the restaurant along with an address and Kame recognizes it immediately. It's a new, expensively chic Italian restaurant in Aoyama. Kame remembers how many of the younger, trendy women at Shibui talked about how much they wanted to go there when it first opened and just how difficult reservations were to obtain (all the while muttering about unromantic boyfriends).
---
Kame is always punctual. Kame is always on time. Kame doesn't really like when someone makes him wait.
It's eight minutes past seven and there is no sign of Jin.
He sits in a plush armchair in a corner of the restaurant lobby. The lighting is dim and elegant, flooding down from antique lamps that hang from the ceiling. He stabs the fancy carpeting with the toes of his shoes and anxiously flips through his manila folder of photos.
When Kame looks up a few moments later, the maître d stands in front of him. "Akanishi-san says that he'll be late. Twenty minutes at the most. Would you like to be seated now? Or…?”
"I'll wait here," Kame says, smiles at the young man who looks classy and refined and elegant in his pinstriped navy suit. He himself wears dark corduroys tucked into black boots and a soft forest-green turtleneck. The crowd that frequents the restaurant is younger, more casual by nature.
"I'll tell you when he arrives," the man says, and bows before moving back toward his post at the front of the room.
Kame shuts his eyes to pass the time.
He must have fallen asleep, because when he opens his eyes again, Jin is suddenly standing in front of him, dressed in fitted black dress pants with pointy silver shoes and a black scoopneck knit shirt. "Sorry," Jin says, reaches out a hand to pull Kame up. "I was meeting with the record executives and it took longer than expected," he explains, has one hand on Kame's shoulder as he guides the way to the maître d.
"It's all right," Kame says, feels a little hazy after just waking up. "What time is it now?" He asks.
"About eight," Jin replies, looks over at him and smiles widely. "I tried to text you after I called the restaurant, but you didn't answer." He pauses. " Long day? Maybe we shouldn't have met tonight."
"Don't worry about it," Kame says, feels embarrassed. "If you're tired on the job, you still have to do it, right?"
---
"How long have you worked at Shibui?" Jin asks curiously, elbows on the table, chin resting on his folded hands.
Kame counts it off on his fingers. "Since getting out of university, so almost two years now. I interned after I got out of high school, though," he says. "About six if you count that."
"You're young." Jin sounds surprised. "You seem older. I mean-" He blinks in realization. "Not that you look old." He laughs. "You seem mature," he corrects. "And you take your job really seriously."
"It's my job, right?" Kame asks.
"But you seem really into it." Jin recalls the photoshoot. "Like, you kind of lose yourself in it. Like you know this is what you're going to do for the rest of your life."
"I guess most young people aren't like that," Kame says.
”Most are still indecisive at this point in their lives, right?"
"I had no idea what I wanted to do." Jin laughs. "I still have no idea."
"Aren’t you doing what you love now?” Kame asks. “Songwriting? Music? Singing?"
"What if?" Jin says. "What if I were something else? What if I don't like being in the spotlight?" He asks. "What if I crash and burn at the age of thirty-two?"
"You can't really let 'what if's carve your life, can you?" Kame asks, raises an eyebrow. "You have to seize what you can and live life to the fullest-" He laughs. "I sound like an old man giving you advice."
"That's embarrassing." Jin laughs too, scratches his nose. "That's embarrassing since I'm older than you. If anything, I should give you advice, right?"
---
Since a young age, Jin had always had a reputation. One of someone fun-loving and carefree when it came to his personal life, fiercely devoted to his family and friends. Charming and good-looking and honest. His heart is on his sleeve. Headstrong and brash, the action always occurring before the brain has the time to think it through.
It is, perhaps, the last part of his reputation that causes him to be more reserved around strangers, more cautious and pragmatic, a little less reactionary. It's the self-consciousness that arises from others, friends and family, reminding him of the type of person he is, and how that can get him into a bit of trouble if he doesn't watch himself.
"If you said that to anyone else, they'd think you were a real narcissist!" His best friend tells him one day when they are fifteen and young and still learning, lying on a green grassy field under the wide expanse of cloudy, grey sky.
"But I am the best at soccer," Jin replies, links his fingers together behind his head and turns toward his friend. "I'm also the best at singing," he declares.
"Big words for someone who can't prove any of it," his friend says, grins at Jin.
"You're just angry that I totally kicked your ass a few minutes ago," Jin contends airily.
"Maybe," his friend says. "But then, you're lucky that I'm your friend when you've got an attitude like that," he jests.
"I'm the best fighter too," Jin says, grins because he's just trying to strike nerves now. "I could totally beat you up." Boyish jibes and childish arguments. Inside, maybe a little, he fades.
"You're also lucky that everyone likes when you smile," his friend mumbles. "Somehow that makes up for everything. I wish my smile got me out of trouble."
"I could get myself out of trouble without a good smile," Jin argues. "I don't need my smile to do anything. I can prove myself on my own," he says, feels lazy as he turns back to the sky, the wind kicking up and a light drizzle starting to fall.
---
They forget about the manila folder and Jin feels uninhibited the more he drinks, the longer he talks to Kame.
"You have three brothers?" Jin asks incredulously, eyes opening wide. "Are you sure?" He asks.
Kame rolls his eyes. "No. I've been miscounting for twenty-three years."
"That's a lot of siblings," Jin defends, pushes his plate delicately toward the center of the table. "Are you the oldest?"
"Almost the youngest. Second-youngest," Kame says.
"You don't seem it," Jin says, frowns. "You definitely seem like the oldest. That mature air." He waves his hands around.
Kame laughs. "Do you have siblings?" He asks curiously.
"A younger brother," Jin says. "I wonder what it's like, though. To have someone older. I think it would be overbearing."
"Just a little overprotective," Kame says, leans back in his chair as he considers his statement. "A lot overprotective with two of them." He cracks a smile and reaches into his back pocket, pulls out his wallet and a picture inside of it. "Here we are. All four of us. The picture's a couple of years old, but, you know."
Jin takes the photo from between the other's fingers. He stares at it for a few moments before looking up at Kame and then back down again. "Are you kidding me? It's like. Three of the same person." He blinks, feels a little headache coming on. "And an awkward-looking young one."
Kame laughs. "We all looked like that. Late bloomers," he says. "At least we bloomed," he decides.
"Has your girlfriend ever mistaken one of them for you?" Jin asks, hands the picture back to Kame. "That would be funny-not really. Nevermind."
"I don't have a girlfriend." Kame shrugs, takes the picture back.
"Boyfriend?" Jin asks, before his brain can stop his mouth.
"My last relationship ended a few months ago," Kame says, puts the picture back into his wallet. His cheeks feel warm.
"Oh," Jin says intelligently. "Well," he says, "There's a ton of fish in the sea." And there's a few moments of silence before Kame suggests that they look at Jin's photos from the previous day.
"Usually the photographer collaborates with the editor to choose the cover photo," Kame explains as they flip through the photographs. "But if you like a particular one, I can put in a word for it. It's not a big deal," he says.
"This one," Jin says quickly, pulls a photo from the folder and hands it to Kame. For that roll of film, he'd worn a pair of tight black pants and pointy shoes. His hair was wet-Kame had jokingly suggested that he put his head under a restroom faucet since he'd had been complaining about the hot lights-and dripped translucent spots onto the clingy white silk shirt. One hand pushed back dark waves from his face as the other pulled at the neck of his shirt, and he watched the camera through half-lidded eyes with half-parted lips.
"Sex sells," Kame comments.
Jin tilts his head to look at the photo again. "Yeah," he admits.
---
"How was your date?" Emi asks the next day, watches as Kame drops the manila folder onto his desk. "What time did you get back?" She asks, and then gasps in faux surprise. "You didn't spend the night, did you?" She waggles her eyebrows.
"It wasn't a date," Kame says. "I got home at midnight. I didn't spend the night. And we didn't have drunken sex in the back of his car," he deadpans.
"I didn't ask the question that needed that last reply," Emi sing-songs, and picks up the manila folder. "I'll take this to the editors, but, really." She leans in close to Kame. "Was the meeting okay?" She asks.
"It was fine," Kame says, shuffles through the papers that are on his desk. "I should have sent you. The food was good. You would have enjoyed it, and probably the company." He pauses. "And I might have gotten another job," he finishes.
"You're not quitting here, are you?" Emi asks, nearly shouts, and everyone in the office looks in their direction. One hand flies to her mouth.
"No," Kame replies, rolls his eyes and waves a hand at the other employees so that they know Emi's untimely screech has no truth behind it. He lowers his voice to a whisper and leans down until they're at eye level. "I might be doing the photoshoot for his first album and photobook," he says, mouth curving into a smile.
"Wow," Emi says, eyes widening. "Wow, your photos must have really made an impression," she says, and flips through the folder. "I mean, it's not like his management has even gauged public reaction to this photoshoot, so he must have really liked you. And the photos. And your ability," she finishes hastily.
"It's nothing final," Kame says. "His management probably wants to see how well the shoot is received, and I'm sure they have their own photographers in mind." He begins to give all the reasons why he won't be doing the photoshoots. "I'm relatively new, aren't I? I've only been doing this, officially, for a couple of years, so-"
"You're excited," Emi cuts him off. "You're really excited, aren't you?" Emi asks. She smiles. She's excited. "You haven't spoken about something like this in a while. Like you really care."
"I care," Kame says, lips coming together in a thin line. "What makes you think I don't care about work?" He asks, shoulders stiffening.
"You care," Emi says, "but you haven’t really expressed it for a while. Now you're like a giddy little kid." She laughs. "It's cute. Cute Kazuya-chan," she coos.
"Shut up," Kame says, flops down into his chair and looks up at Emi's face. "Bring the photos to the design department before they send us five emails asking for the covershoot. And-the photo in the front. Jin likes it. He wants it to be on the cover."
"All right, boss."
---
December flashes by and New Year's Day comes and goes. It's the beginning of January and the streets are heavy with teenagers on winter holiday. Kame has to brace himself against the wind when he walks, and the uncharacteristically frigid air seeps in between layers of clothing and into his bones. Kame hums along to the catchy commercial jingle that is his ring tone before reaching for his phone.
"Hello?"
"It's Emi. Don't worry about coming to the studio today. Looks like the model from Sapporo isn't coming down. They're worried about the weather conditions. Boss says we can take the day off since there's no other shoot."
"Really?" Kame brings one cold hand up to touch his cheek. "The weather here is pretty worrisome, too," he says, looks up at the sky. "It's starting to snow and it's sticking."
"Well," Emi says, "Go home. Or go out." She pauses. "When was the last time you went out, Kame?"
"A couple weeks ago. That meeting with Jin," he says.
"That was in last year-" Emi nearly shrieks, and Kame pulls the phone away from his ear. "But, really, Kame," her voice calms to civilized levels. "You should get out more. It's good for you to socialize with people rather than your photography chemicals."
"They don't shout in my ear," Kame says, and he can see Emi's pout in his head.
"Hermit," she accuses.
"Shut up," Kame says emphatically. "Shouldn't you worry about your own social life, then?" He asks. "I don't think it's healthy for you to obsess over mine." He means it a little jokingly, a little lightly, but it comes out more scathing than he means.
"I worry," she says softly.
Kame hangs up.
He walks past Shibui, walks past the other skyscraping office buildings in Shinjuku. There's a place, a destination, somewhere he used to frequent while in university, and he hasn't been there in years.
Suddenly, he has the urge, hit with nostalgia.
It's a tiny cafe off a busy, main street, down a smaller street, right, left, right again. His feet remember the path and he's there before he knows it. There's the sound of a bell as he enters, and it signals to the staff that there's a customer. It's busy inside, he realizes. Busier than it used to be, even during the lunch hour. Its popularity must have grown, because whenever he walked in there when he was younger, it was empty. Empty and quiet, with time moving slower than it did outside.
"Are you by yourself?" The hostess asks, smiles at him warmly.
"Yeah," he says lamely, scuffs the soles of his sneakers against the mat and tries to brush melting snow and water off the shoulders of his designer jacket.
She leads him to a table beside the front window. "Coffee?" She asks. "You look like you walked here," she says. "You’re shivering," she explains.
"Thanks," Kame says, removes his coat and drapes it over the back of his chair. He hadn't believed the weather reports-snow. He felt that they were seldom right, and he'd worn a denim blazer over a grey hoodie with skinny black jeans and battered white trainers.
He looks out the window at the grey sky and suddenly feels depressed, wilted, tired. It's the weather, he decides. The weather sucks, and he feels immature and young.
The waitress comes back with his coffee, cream and sugar. He tries to drink it black, but the aftertaste stains his palate and throat. He remembers coming here when he was younger, more carefree.
It was after his last relationship, he notes sourly. He stopped calling his friends after that, preferring to be alone, preferring to be buried in his work. It was easier. Distance wasn't a choice when he was photographing others. But, in his personal life-
It nagged him (it still nags him).
Kame takes criticism well. He reasons that without it, he can't further himself as a person, and he's always wanted to be better at everything. Photography. Baseball. Relationships.
But some things just come easier than others. Camaraderie is difficult. Kame's always been particularly serious, worrying about school and work and the future, forgetting that in addition to the objective, there was the subjectivity of human beings. It's difficult for him to reveal his emotions, to explain his feelings, to open up.
So, he thinks, after his last failed relationship. He gave up. He did what he knew how to do and ignored everything else.
"Kame?" Kame's eyes jerk away from the window, look up at the man that stands beside his table. Jin. "Funny seeing you here." Jin smiles, and his long black wool coat looks warm even though icy wetness collects on it. "How's work?" He asks, hands in his pockets. His ears are red from the cold, his hair pulled back into a messy, wavy bun.
"Busy." Kame says, smiles back strained. "You know, like work usually is. "How've you been?" He asks. "I sent copies of the photos to your management last month. How'd they like them?" He asks, motions for Jin to sit down across from him.
The other obliges, removes his coat and he wears a white t-shirt with a large foil print of a woman's naked silhouette on it. "A lot. They liked them a lot. I was going to call you," Jin says, "but I didn't get the chance." He leans in close to Kame, secret smile on his face. "You're still willing to be my photographer, right?"
Suddenly, Kame feels brighter, alive, happy. "They’d let me?” He asks, and can’t hide the upward curve of his lips.
"They just want to see how well the issue does, but you're all but officially cleared," Jin explains. "You look happier now," he says when he sees Kame's face light up, grins back. "You looked so sad when I was walking by," he says, "I had to stop and make sure you were all right." His voice lowers, sounds worried.
"Am I keeping you?" Kame asks, eyes wide. "Date or something?" He asks, doesn't know why Jin would come down a little street like this without a specific purpose.
"Oh. No," Jin says, eyes flickering outside and then back to Kame. "Just walking," he says. "You know, getting fresh air. I'm in between stuff right now, just came from the recording studio and I have to head to the dance studio in a couple of hours. Passing the time." He shrugs, and there's silence between them. "Actually," he pauses. "I got lost." He admits.
"So you came to me for directions?" Kame asks, eyebrow raised.
"Mostly to make sure you were okay! I was going to ask a waitress for directions," Jin insists, voice fading off into a mumble at the end of his sentence. "But I'm in no rush," he says, "Talking to you is better." He waves down the waitress, asks for a beer. "So how are you?" He asks.
"You asked that already." Kame laughs.
"No, how are you, not how's work," Jin emphasizes, and Kame feels defensive.
"Fine," he says, shoulders stiffening, and he's startled by the noise of Jin standing up, picking his chair up and putting it back down beside Kame. He sits, turns to face the other.
"So do you want to talk about it?"
Kame hesitates and then breathes deeply.
They leave a couple hours later, and Kame makes sure to take care of the bill. The air outside is a little less frigid, and the sun breaks through the gaps in the clouds and melts the snow into a slushy mess.
"Thanks," Kame says, lets out a rush of air. "Thanks," he repeats.
"You just needed to talk about things," he says. "That's what friends are there for, aren't they?"
"I took up a lot of your time," Kame replies, feels guilty. He'd babbled more than he'd meant to, about work, about life, about failed relationships and burying himself in photography. About the friends he used to have and the friends that kept calling even though he never picked up. He'd done it quietly, with his fingers drawing patterns on the hazy glass window and Jin leaning in close to hear every little thing he had to say.
It feels good to have things off his chest, Kame finds. It feels good to have someone else know what he's feeling. But there's a gnawing worry. He doesn't trust Jin, doesn't know him well enough, only knows him as a prominent musician who's going to be on half the billboards in Tokyo in less than a month.
The horror that he's opened himself to someone he considers little more than an acquaintance makes his world lurch.
"-Kame? Can you hear me?" Kame hears Jin ask, and he's snapped out of his sudden sickness.
"Sorry," Kame says, feels just as guilty and more self-conscious.
"Don't be sorry," Jin says. "This is what friends are for, aren't they?" He asks rhetorically, and runs a nervous hand through wavy hair. "I'm not good at giving advice," he says, "but I'll listen. And you don't have to apologize because I want to listen."
Kame nods, feels small, feels his breath coming heavier.
"Kame?" He feels Jin standing beside him, one hand gripping his forearm lightly. "Are you all right?" Do you feel sick?" Jin's voice is laced with concern and worry.
"I feel sick," Kame confirms. He closes his eyes and opens his mouth. "Everything is spinning," he explains, feels Jin pulling him urgently from the middle of pedestrian traffic, and then there's the steady presence of a hard wall against his back and large hands on his shoulders. "You can go, though," Kame says. "I'll be all right."
"Don't be stupid," Jin says hotly, and his voice sounds poisonous.
Then Kame sees black.
---
He wakes up to someone singing in the shower. He recognizes the song. It's the single that plays on the radio over and over as of late. It's the single that has already sold a million copies and is finally losing a little steam on its way to one point five.
Kame sits up and his hair sticks to the back of his neck. His denim jacket is thrown haphazardly over a lamp, and the whole room could use some tidying (the trashcan in the corner is nearly full, the hamper beside the closet door is overflowing, the dishes look lonely and the beer cans crumple on a nightstand). It's hot beneath the covers, and he flings them off.
He hears the water turn off, the singing subside. There's the noise of the shower curtain being pulled back, and the sound of a door opening. It's a few moments before Jin enters the bedroom, towel around his waist, and water dripping on the carpeted floor as he dries his hair.
Kame clears his throat and the other looks at him in surprise. "Hey," Jin says.
"You brought me here?" Kame asks.
"Yeah. I got some strange looks dragging you back to my apartment. I think people just assumed you were really drunk or something." He laughs and makes his way over to Kame, gingerly avoids obstacles that splay across the floor. "Sorry about the mess. I've been busy and haven't gotten around to hiring maid service," he says, reaches out a hand to touch Kame's forehead. "You were a little warm, but I didn't think that you were sick enough to go to the emergency room."
"Didn't you have somewhere to be?" Kame asks, mind fuzzy.
Jin blinks, pulls back his hand and tilts his head. "I canceled. Couldn't leave you alone, could I?" He approaches the closet-walk-in-and Kame watches as he pulls articles of clothing from hangers and slanting piles. "If you feel up to it, you can take a shower," Jin says, throws a ball of clothing in Kame's direction. "Towels are in the bathroom, first door on your left. I'll get changed in the guest room." He pauses. "I think you should rest a little bit more, though."
When he leaves, the door shuts with a soft click, and all is quiet.
Kame falls back, head hitting the pillow with a soft whoosh of air.
He feels more tired than before.
---
When Kame wakes up again, he looks around the room with bleary eyes. It looks cleaner, like someone's gone through and picked up all the junk, put everything back in place. He sits up and sees Jin sitting at the foot of the bed, his back to Kame and a cell phone to his ear.
It's Kame's cell phone.
"He'll be okay," Kame hears Jin say. "A little bit of a temperature, maybe. I think he's just tired." There's a pause before Kame hears a shrill voice on the other line. He recognizes it as Emi, and he's surprised that she isn't already on her way over to take a look at him. "He’s stressed," Jin says, "The only thing he can really do is rest. And maybe stop working so hard and worrying about everything." There's another pause, and Emi's voice subsides into a soft, motherly tone. Jin listens to her speak, twirls his fingers in his hair. "I agree," he says.
Kame's stomach lurches. They're talking about him. Kame feels stupid for telling Jin anything, stupid for it having this effect on him.
"How long have you been awake?" Jin asks, shakes Kame from his thoughts. He pulls the phone away from his ear and crawls up the bed to sit beside the other. "It's Emi. Do you want to talk to her?" He holds out the phone.
Kame shakes his head. He'll just get a lecture.
Jin’s lips press together, but he brings the phone back up to his own ear. "He's really tired, Emi, but when he feels up to speaking, I'll tell him to call you." There's a pause. "I'll call you for him, if he's that stubborn." Jin hangs up smiling, but when he turns back to Kame, it fades from his face. "How do you feel now?" He asks.
"How long have I been asleep?" Kame asks. Outside of the window beside Jin's bed, it's light.
"It's almost morning now. So you know, a while." Jin laughs uneasily. "How do you feel?" He repeats, sounds worried.
"Okay," Kame lies.
"I'll pretend to believe you," Jin quips, hands gripping the sheets lightly. "Will that make you feel better?" He asks.
Kame feels tired again, really exhausted, but his world no longer lurches and twists and slants. He's still a little bit afraid of Jin knowing about his feelings and emotions, feels vulnerable and soft whenever the other looks at him. "I'm tired," he chokes, looks down at the covers that bunch in his lap. "No," he says, and feels confused because he doesn't feel sick, but he doesn't feel better.
"You're sorry a lot," Jin says lightly, tries to brighten the situation.
"I'm sorry that I caused a lot of worry," Kame says delicately. "That's okay, right?" He continues looking at the blankets in his lap, curls his fingers in the heavy comforter. "Sorry that I told you my entire life story and then hyperventilated over it," he says, lets out a dull laugh. Wetness pricks the corner of his eyes.
He feels like a woman.
"Hey," Jin says. "Are you crying?" He asks, brushes stray hair from Kame's face as he leans over to look at him. "Don't cry," he says. "It makes me feel nervous. It makes me feel responsible." There's a little wan smile on his face, and Kame tries his best to return it, but it wavers and his shoulders shake.
"Sorry." He says it softly.
There's hesitation as Jin stretches his limbs, sits cross-legged and looks over at Kame. "Come here," he says, doesn't wait for the other to move, moves himself. He wraps his arms around Kame's thin body, squeezes him tightly and smoothes his hair. "This is what friends do," Jin says lamely.
Kame stiffens, feels Jin's body pressed up against his side and Jin's breath on his right ear. He hesitates, can't pull away, convinces himself that he's too tired to try before he leans back against Jin. "Thanks," he says. "Thanks for being a friend," he chokes.
PART 01 // PART 03