(one-shot) you've made it now [2/2]
Five years later
“Cheers!” Jin laughs, entwining his arm with his fiancé as they take a love shot. Applause echoes in the confines of the small room, and she winks at him from above her glass, auburn hair short and wavy around her shoulders. I love you, she mouths at him, and he grins cheekily.
A loud ding sounds from the other end of the table, and they all look to see Yamapi beaming at them, his eyes sparkling mischievously. “I have a toast to make,” he announces in flawless English, ignoring the roll of eyes and flat elbowing from his daughter at his side, her expression already suffering from second-hand embarrassment. Jin smiles at the ten-year-old, who in return, sticks out her tongue at him, dimples etched in her cheek as she stifles a laugh.
“This is to the groom. My best friend, brother, lover, confidante, soul mate, whatever.” There’s a shout of laughter around the room, and Jin proceeds to roll his eyes with a smile. Yamapi winks at him, holding the glass higher in his hand. “I’ve known this guy since we were still wearing diapers and getting dizzy from watching mobiles circling our heads from the confines of a crib. I’ve known him when he’s come to my apartment drunk and lamenting over how he is never going to get on with his life, when he ran around a football field half-naked on a dare from a college classmate.” Yamapi pauses to let everybody laugh. “So, Jin, now I get to know you as the happily married husband to this beautiful lady, finally settling down and have what you’ve been longing for your entire life. As long as you don’t forget me,” he hesitates for emphasis, “your first lover,” more chuckles, “May you have all the happiness in the world. Cheers to my best friend, Akanishi Jin.”
“Cheers to my best man,” Jin replies, and holds the glass to Yamapi, downing the rest of his wine in one gulp. “The man whose life I’ve always been in envy of. Mainly because he gets me as a best friend.”
Yamapi rolls his eyes as the room erupts into laughter, and Jin laughs as well, the cheerfulness filling his chest.
Outside the room, at the very end of the hallway, there’s a pair of elevators with gold doors, directly across from each other. They both stop with quiet dings, empty and reminiscent. The floor sign reads twenty-three.
-------------------------------------
The case is balanced precariously on his palm, her eyes filling with tears. “Yes,” she whispers, her voice shaky, tears brimming over. “Yes.”
Carefully, he smiles, unclasping the case and taking out the ring. He slides it down her ring finger, only to have it stop in the middle, stuck at the joint. Pushing it a little, he freezes, when he hears a quiet “ow,” and frowns, pulling the ring off.
“I’m sorry.”
“No,” she takes the ring from his fingers, turning it in the light. “It’s beautiful. It’s fine. We’ll get it refitted.” She smiles gently at him, tilts his chin up to look her in the eye. “Don’t tell me you’re going to think this is fate, and that we’re not - ”
“No,” he interrupts, a bit too curtly, and tries to smile wider, his eyes flickering down the case in his hand. “No, we’ll just get it refitted.”
Her smile widens naturally. “Okay,” she murmurs, and leans in for a kiss, pressing her lips to the corner of his. “Okay. I’ll go make dinner.” She drops the ring back into the case, closing it with precise movements and placing it on the table beside him, smoothing out the fabric of her skirt before smiling at him and walking away, the dog trailing behind her as she disappears into the kitchen.
“Ran-chan,” Kazuya clicks his tongue, averting the dog’s attention. “C’mere, girl.”
The dog hesitates, looking back into the kitchen for a moment before bounding towards him, nudging her nose into his palm. A fleeting smile crosses his lips as he scratches her behind the ears, hugging her close to his chest and closing his eyes.
(Take this sinking boat and point it home; we’ve still got time.)
-------------------------------------
Jin is strolling down the sidewalk, lingering around the random carts set up at corners and near the church stairs. A familiar book in a heap catches his eye, and he walks briskly towards it, finding himself standing in front of a used bookseller.
Slowly, he picks up the book of sheet music, running his fingers across the letters printed on the front - MOVIE SOUNDTRACKS FOR GUITAR. Holding his breath, he closes his eyes, weighing the book in his palm. He fingers the edge of the cover, carefully opening it, eyelids fluttering open in anticipation.
The inside cover is blank, void of any scribbles or information he was expecting.
With a sigh, he puts the book down, internally scolding himself for still being idiotic enough to be searching for that. He gives the man sitting behind the counter a small nod and smile, before setting off in the other direction, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets without sparing a second glance behind him.
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“So,” the door swings open, Kazuya’s only warning before a friendly face peeks around the corner, bright with excitement. “I heard somebody’s engaged.”
Kazuya glances up with a smile as he finishes signing a paper, clicking his pen back into the container. “Nice to see you too, Koki.”
“You sound wonderfully excited,” Koki answers, dumping a stack of papers on his desk and clicking his tongue in disappointment before bending down to peer up into his face. “What’s wrong, Kame?”
“Nothing,” abruptly, Kazuya shuffles the papers together, inspecting the fine print of characters on the forms. “More eager buyers?”
“Yeah, but that’s not important right now,” in an instant, Koki has the stack of papers slid to the far end of Kazuya’s table. He grabs a chair nearby, pulling it up and sitting down to rest his elbows on his knees. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”
Sighing, Kazuya looks him in the eye. “I told you, nothing’s wrong.”
With a roll of his eyes, Koki pinches the bridge of his nose. “Oh yeah, and look, pigs are flying out there!” he replies in a nasal voice, lowering his hand when Kazuya laughs softly, shaking his head. “Come on, Kame. Don’t lie to me.”
“It’s stupid.”
“That’s what I’m here for. Stupid stories make my world go round.”
“The ring didn’t fit.” Kazuya leans back in his chair, measuring his friend’s reaction, who just blinks at him, confused. Shrugging, Kazuya raises his palms, curls his elbows into the crevices of the chair as he crosses his arms. “That’s it. The ring didn’t fit.”
The beginnings of a frown appear on Koki’s face. “Kame. Don’t tell me you still believe in fate.”
“I don’t know, Koki,” sighing heavily, Kazuya closes the lid of his laptop, patting his hand on the still warm, dying whirr of the computer. “I just don’t know. It doesn’t feel…right.”
Koki’s forehead creases. “Look, Kame. We’re best friends, right? I would never lie to you, man, right?” When Kazuya nods absently, Koki takes a breath, grips his shoulder with a hand to make him look up. “Kame, as much as you have - or still want to - believe in this - this fate, destiny, whatever,” he pauses to look his friend in the eye. “You know we don’t live in fairytale land, Kame. You have this gorgeous, kind-hearted, honest - hell, I could be easily jealous - girl. And she loves you, and you love her too, okay? It can’t get much better than this.”
When Kazuya doesn’t answer, Koki’s frown deepens, leaning back to absorb the expression on his friend’s face. “Don’t tell me this is still about that guy in New York.”
Kazuya’s gaze snaps up, eyes swirling. “Koki,” he whispers, and his voice is raw, desperate. He clears his throat, waits for a moment. “You have no idea what it felt like. It was so - so real.” He looks up when he hears Koki let out a long, winded breath. “I know what you’re going to say. I might be crazy. I probably am crazy, Koki, but I just - I need to feel like I tried. And I haven’t.”
“So what are you saying? That you’re going to go back to New York? After you just got engaged? What about the wedding?”
“Look, Koki.” Clasping his hands together, Kazuya takes a deep breath. “Erika is at work almost 24/7. I’m at work 24/7. The only time we ever see each other is at night, in our dreams - goddammit, I don’t think I even dream of her, ever. I love her, and I know she loves me, but it’s just - it’s not. Koki, I just really need this. I really do.”
Koki presses a hand to his forehead, head lowered in thought. Finally, he looks up, eyes resigned. “Okay,” he says, pauses to gauge Kazuya’s expression. “Okay, I’ll tell the boss. But you’d better get something out of this.”
“Thanks, Koki.” A smile lighting up his face, Kazuya stands, fingers prying his tie loose. “I owe you, man. I promise I’ll come home a better person.”
With a laugh, Koki shakes his head, wraps arms around his friend in a brief hug. “You better,” he accuses, laughs again when Kazuya shoves him lightly, already much more cheerful. “You better,” he says again, and watches Kazuya’s figure move away and down the hall, a spring in his steps that hasn’t been there in years, not since the first meeting with Erika.
Koki crosses his fingers, and tells himself it will all turn out for the better.
-------------------------------------
The television is on mute, images glaring back at him as he stares at it blankly. Sudden warmth curls into his side, and he looks down to see his fiancé smiling up at him. “Hey, you.”
“Hey,” he answers softly, moving to wrap his arm around her shoulders and giving her a brief squeeze.
“I love you.”
The smile on his face takes a bit more effort than he anticipated. “Love you too.”
She sighs, grabbing a pillow from her side of the couch and moving to rest her chin on top of it. “Tell me something romantic.”
Tearing his gaze away from the screen, Jin shifts to rest his elbow on the back of the couch, head on his hand. “Like what?”
“Like…” she ponders this for a moment, raising her head to cup her hand under her chin. “Like how I’m the only person in the world meant for you.”
It takes Jin a second to unclog his throat, his heart swooping down low in his stomach. Just as he works up the courage to open his mouth, afraid of what will spill out, there’s a shrill ring from the doorbell. At the disturbance, she turns, jumps up with an “Oh!” and rushes to the door. “Pizza’s here.” Her smile is bright beneath the dusky light of the entrance, hair flowing down to drape across her shoulders.
He gives her a distracted smile, watching as she pays the delivery boy and closes the door, opening the box to smell their freshly oven-baked dinner.
He wonders, with a dreadful, sinking feeling, how he could ever want anything more than this.
(But he does.)
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Koki is the pleasant surprise greeting him at the gate entrance, suitcase stood up beside him like a mini-soldier, face anxious. “Hey, you,” Kazuya tilts his head. “What are you doing here?”
The other looks up from his twiddling of thumbs, offers an anxious smile. “Waiting for you.”
In disbelief, Kazuya pulls his suitcase to a stop, crossing his arms over his chest. “Really.”
“Really,” Koki replies confidently, glancing at his watch and then back up at the screen above them, departure times scrolling across in rigid yellow characters. “And if you don’t stop standing there looking at me like I’m an alien from outer space, we’re going to miss our flight to New York.”
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It’s after the last wedding rehearsal when she walks towards him, wrapped rectangular object in her hands. He offers her a smile when she approaches, leading her to sit down on the now empty chairs.
“Jin,” she says as soon as they sit, and puts the present aside.
“I left yours at home, sorry,” Jin bites his lip apologetically, and she smiles weakly, waving it away.
“I know.” He gives her a moment to collect her thoughts, before she begins again. “Jin. I just…I feel like you’re hiding something from me. I don’t know what it is, and I don’t know if I want to know, but…” she chews on her bottom lip, tears obviously threatening in her eyes, and Jin feels his heart clench. “You don’t have to tell me. But just please, we’re getting married in three days, and I need you to let it go. Whatever it is, please, please let it go.”
Jin watches as she turns away, recollecting her composure and turning back to him with a smile. “Open your present,” she says, and all he can do is nod, uncertainly accepting the wrapped package. Carefully, he pulls apart the taped pieces, pushing aside the paper to uncover an old, worn edition of MOVIE SOUNDTRACKS FOR GUITAR. His breathing shallows as he stares at the cover, smoothing his fingers over the creases and slight rips in the cover.
“I see you looking at it every time we walk past a bookstore,” her voice interrupts his reverie, and he looks up, into her hopeful gaze. “It’s one of the very first editions, from when they first published it a few years ago. I hope there’s nothing wrong with it,” she adds as she examines his reaction, how fragile his touch is.
Without answering, he slips a finger under the cover, his hand trembling as he opens it to the title page, the inside cover.
There, on the inside, in slightly messy, small handwriting -
Kamenashi Kazuya.
He draws in a deep breath, heartbeat pounding in his fingertips as he laces them with hers. “No,” he whispers. “It’s perfect.”
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“I can’t believe this piece of crap was seven dollars,” Koki laments, pursing his lips at the pair of headphones in his hands. “They broke halfway through the flight.”
Kazuya laughs lightly, taking the set from his friend’s hands. “Then they’re not worth it.” He throws them into the nearest trashcan before returning his grip to the handle of his suitcase, towing it along as they walk to the exit of the airport.
“That was seven US dollars, man,” frowning at him, Koki glances back wistfully at the garbage. “What a waste of effort. I even had to argue with the guy to get my three dollars in change back.”
“Oh, then I’m sure those three dollars are very precious to you,” Kazuya jokes, waving his hand for a taxi that stops at the curb beside them.
“They are!” Indignant, Koki pulls out his wallet to prove his point, opening it to hand Kazuya the three old dollar bills. “One, two, three,” he counts out, and opens the wallet wider to show Kazuya the inside. “That’s all the US money I’ve got in here.”
Rolling his eyes, Kazuya closes the wallet, pushing the money back into his friend’s hands. “No worries. I have more. I’ll pay.” As they climb into the taxi, Koki shrugs, pocketing his wallet and the money with it.
“Where to, sir?”
Blinking, Koki turns to Kazuya. “Kame, where are we going?”
“Anywhere.”
“That’s not a destination.”
“Fine,” with a finger to his lips, Kazuya hums thoughtfully. He thinks of the last time he was here, the Christmas streetlights and holiday splendor splattered across the expanse of the city, the cozy little café next to the department store.
With a smile, he gives the driver the address of the café.
(Raise your hopeful voice)
---
“The area code’s Tokyo,” Yamapi mulls over the number. “Cool name.”
“Pi.”
“What?” Crossing his legs, he rests his elbows forward on his knees, rubbing the top of his daughter’s head thoughtfully as she sits beside the foot of the couch, immersed in a book. When Jin gives him a pointed look, he sighs. “Jin, what do you want me to do? We’re not going to fly to Japan a day before your wedding.”
“I’m calling off the wedding.”
Both Yamapi and Kazumi turn to him in surprise. “You what?” Yamapi manages, snapping his fingers in front of his friend’s face. “Are you insane?”
“No, Pi,” calmly, Jin swings his legs back over the couch, ruffling Kazumi’s hair. “Just a believer, that’s all.” He smiles sentimentally, stretches as he stands up. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”
He is just barely out the door when Yamapi’s voice makes him stop. “Jin, wait. A believer in what?”
Slowly, Jin spins around, attempts an uncertain smile as his gaze meets Yamapi’s, and then down to meet Kazumi’s.
“A believer in fate.”
(You have a choice)
---
The café is nearly empty, too late in the day for working people and too early for the night crew. Kazuya enters first with the same jingle from so many years ago, and he smiles at the girl behind the counter before ordering two coffees.
The price is thirteen, and Kazuya frowns as he rummages through his wallet, coming up with only a ten and a one. “Koki,” he muses. “Where are your precious three dollars?”
“I thought you said we’d be okay,” Koki teases, nonetheless pulling out his wallet and extracting the said three dollars. The girl nods, pushing one back towards him and collecting the thirteen dollars, handing them two steaming cups of coffee. As she moves to put the money into the cash register, Kazuya catches sight of pink on the back of the last dollar bill, a flash of unfamiliar scrawl before his eyes. With a start, he leans forward.
“Um, excuse me? Excuse me,” he raps on the glass of the counter to catch the girl’s attention. “Could I see that money again for a second?”
She frowns at him. “Why?”
“I just need to see the last dollar bill. Please.”
Disbelieving, she raises an eyebrow at him. “Sir, what - ”
“Kame,” there’s a sharp tug on his arm, and he turns around to see Koki, and a steadily increasing line of impatient faces behind him. “You’re holding up the line.”
“Wait, just one moment,” he hisses, noticing the extra dollar bill in Koki’s hand. Without any precedence, he grabs it, turning back around to present it to the girl at the counter. “Here,” he says, watches as she takes it, confused. “Just give me the other dollar bill.”
Still giving him a strange look, she opens the cash register; taking the three dollar bills back out. “Which one?” The pink is evident now, large messy characters across the back of the word LIBERTY. Kazuya inhales sharply, plucks it out of her fingers with a small grin.
“Thanks,” he moves away immediately, letting Koki apologize for the wait before pulling him to a corner table, throwing the dollar bill in front of him. “Look.”
Koki peers at the dollar bill, eyes running over the pink ink. “Akanishi Jin?”
“Akanishi,” Kazuya repeats, tasting syllables on his tongue. He smiles faintly, and leans back. “Jin.”
(You’ve made it now.)
--
The phone rings five times before a click sounds; only a second before Kazuya realizes he’s reached an answering machine. “This is Jin.” His lips lift upwards a little. “And Teresa,” a female voice chimes in, as well as bit of laughing in the background. “We’re not here right now,” Jin’s voice says steadily, “But if you leave a message, we’ll be sure to call you back!” Her voice is mellow, a comfortable wash of American accent and femininity. Just as the beep sounds, Kazuya immediately slams the phone closed, holding the device to his chest and breathing hard.
It buzzes, startling, in the grasp of his fingers, and he looks down at the screen to see Erika’s name blinking at him with a sense of urgency. Taking a shaky breath, he flips it open, waits for her voice to greet him.
It does, and what comes doesn’t surprise him in the least.
“I’m at JFK airport, Kazuya. And I think we need to talk.”
---
Later at night, Jin finds himself wandering the streets, weaving through the crowd of random passerby. He twists the ring on right hand involuntarily as he sidesteps a group of tourists gathered around a magic act, and walks balanced on the curb until he reaches the same familiar doorway of the music store.
Stepping inside, he smiles to find Kazumi at the counter, a staff badge pinned to her chest and her hair falling in soft waves as she picks at an unraveling thread on her shirt. “Hey there, Princess,” he greets, and she looks up at him with a smile.
“Hey, Jin-kun. Dad said some new guitars came in this morning.”
“Really? So do you work for him now?”
She giggles, leaning her short ten-year-old self up against the counter, the edge reaching all the way up to her chest. “Not tall enough,” she laments, and Jin smiles.
“A few more years, maybe.”
“Mmhm,” Kazumi unhooks the pin from her shirt, smoothing out the small holes pricked in the fabric. Looking up at the clock, she pouts at the time, checking her watch to make sure. “Aw, I have to go home now, or else Mom’s going to kill me.”
“I’m sure she wouldn’t kill you,” Jin laughs, pats her on the head. “But that would be a good idea.”
Beaming, Kazumi nods, and leans up to peck a kiss on his nose, grinning. He watches as she flounces to the entrance, waving to him before disappearing around the corner of the doorway. With a lingering smile, he makes his way to the back of the store, headed directly for the guitars in the far corner.
Picking out the same guitar that has been his favorite for years on end, Jin sets down the book in his hand, slipping off his ring to rest beside him on the ground so that it won’t get in the way of his guitar-playing. Returning his attention to the book of sheet music, he skims through the pages; finally coming across the same song he remembers playing for Kazuya on Christmas Eve (falling slowly, sing your melody).
---
Disconcerted, Kazuya walks along the streets, oblivious to most passerby until he chances across a familiar entryway, lights bright within. There’s a small figure walking away from it, somewhat vaguely familiar, and he speeds up his pace.
When he is close enough to see the figure’s face, he realizes that it’s a girl - older, definitely, more mature, but he can faintly recognize the features, the pretty curve of her lips. She notices him then, a smile playing across her features when recognition dawns in her eyes.
“I remember you,” she says quietly, and her voice is lower than he remembered. “You’re the reason Jin-kun won’t marry Teresa-san.”
“Won’t marry…?” Gently, Kazuya crouches down in front of her, moving a hand to brush away stray strands of hair in her face. “Can you tell me where Jin-kun is?”
Her smile spreads slowly, sweet as honey. “He’s back with the guitars, as always.” She motions behind her towards the store, and Kazuya looks back up at the doorway, the same place Jin had led him into all those years ago. Lips curving, he murmurs “thanks”, watching the little girl saunter off in the opposite direction.
There’s a familiar melody playing from the back when he steps inside, the door closing swiftly behind him.
Inhaling sharply, Kazuya closes his eyes, and walks forward.
---
He is finishing the last verse when there’s a clink too close nearby, just beside his feet. Fearing for his ring, he opens his eyes instantaneously, fingers pausing on the strings when he is met with the sight of an identical ring on top of his, bright and shining beneath the lights of the store.
Holding his breath, he slowly raises his gaze, remembering to move his fingers on the strings, still strumming the last chords, his singing voice barely a whisper above the familiar tune.
Kazuya is staring back at him, kneeled on the ground, lips quirking upward and eyes crinkling at the corners. As Jin continues to sing, heartbeat speeding up inside his chest, he can hear Kazuya faintly humming along, the same tune, the same melody (I’ll sing along).
The song finishes with one last chord, Jin’s fingers freezing on the strings as they stare at each other for a few breathless moments. Finally, Kazuya reaches out and picks up his ring, sliding it back onto his finger. He holds out his hand. “Hi, I’m Kamenashi Kazuya.”
Placing the guitar aside, Jin picks up his own ring, slips it on, and grasps Kazuya’s hand in his, warmth surging through him at the contact. “I’m Akanishi Jin,” he murmurs, and looks directly into Kazuya’s eyes, how they soften at him, chocolate brown - but not dark enough to hide the overload of emotions inside.
And somehow, those eyes start to move closer, nearer, Jin’s heartbeat quickening, fluttering beneath his fingertips. He leans forward, their breaths mingling, touches his lips to Kazuya’s, feels the other smile into his mouth, a warm, fateful beginning.
(Falling slowly, eyes that know me; and I can’t go back.
You’ve made it now.)