[Vix] Water Dance
Water Dance
Soft R; Akame
Even when it hurts to do it, all Kame can do is smile. For kizuna_exchange for saengie, here. I owe SO MUCH to P-suke for this because I was struggling terribly, and she was wonderful enough to write bits and sections here and there to give me the push I needed to keep going ;_; Thank you ♥
The lovely adistantsun has podficced this here :D Check it out!
Show me
It's so much easier when they're young. They hit it off from their first meeting, eyes locking across a crowded room until Jin laughs and points at Kame's eyebrows then trips over his feet. Kame laughs so hard he has to clutch at his stomach to stop himself tumbling over too, but luckily the old man with the creepy eyes is too busy frowning disapprovingly in Jin's direction to notice.
Kame shares his lunch - the first of many - with Jin, squeezed onto a bench outside the audition hall, and it's easy. It's easy to be friends when they're young, clinging to familiarity in the face of the unknown, and they're both dreaming of being the next big thing, and even when at first Jin doesn't get in, he still wants Kame's mail address. Because one day, he says, one day Kame will be a star, and then he can tell all his friends that he knows the famous Kamenashi Kazuya.
Kame tries, but can't hide his smile.
Hold me
The sandy ground is uncomfortable beneath him, and the flimsy tent doesn't do much to ward off the cold sea breeze, but Kame's never been more content. The cameras are gone, but Jin hasn't moved, just burrows a little more into Kame's thigh, cushioned by his sleeping bag.
Jin's got an arm wrapped around Kame's legs now, already snoring softly, and Kame twists his body forwards and wriggles an arm free, shuffling around until he can wind it around Jin's waist. He's uncomfortable, he's cold, he's tired, and everything aches, but with Jin curled up against him, face hidden in the folds of Kame's sleeping bag, he thinks he's never felt better.
Goosebumps erupt on his skin when Kame reaches down to pat Jin's fluffy head, and Jin nuzzles closer and purrs like a cat, humming softly in his sleep.
Kame just smiles.
Tell me
The room is buzzing. There's an undertone of worry, of can we really do this because one full show a day is hard enough, let alone eleven. But here, now, surrounded by glitter and feathers and sequins, the excitement of being given their own shows, all their own is too infectious for something as insignificant as exhaustion to bring them down.
Five shows later, and exhaustion is beginning to win out. Seven, and there's a sluggishness to their dances and an edge to their voices, and after nine it's all but impossible to drag themselves up and back out onto the stage for the next group of screaming girls.
After the tenth show, it's Jin, the one who had started complaining first, who stands on shaky legs and looks around at them sprawled across the furniture, costumes all askew. His eyes are still red and puffy, and he sniffs without seeming to realise it, but then a grin flickers around his lips. "Ka-zu-ya," he says, voice quiet but imitating the calls of the crowd, soft and rhythmic and Kame is reminded of seagulls gliding across the Okinawan sea, "Ka-zu-ya!"
Kame turns his head, looking at the older boy from his place on the sofa with a slight frown.
"Ka-zu-ya!"
"Ji-n," he responds with a sigh. "What is it?"
Jin just grins. "Ka-zu-ya!"
Koki looks between the pair of them, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as catches on, "Yu-u-cchi."
Nakamaru grunts, and Ueda digs through his bag for his headphones.
"Yu-u-cchi."
"Ka-zu-ya!"
"U-e-pi~" Junno's voice joins them, and Ueda pauses, fixes him with a look. It's almost a frown, thoughtful before he smiles brilliantly.
The chorus of names, over and over and over accompanied by the wide smiles and shining eyes of his band mates stays with Kame even after they've taken to the stage again, rings in his ears louder and clearer than the shouts and cheers and chants of all the girls who are just desperate to be heard.
All six of them throw themselves into it with every ounce of strength they can muster, full of laughter and enthusiasm that just a few moments before had seemed a million miles away. It's their best show yet, and as the lights dim and the glitter falls to the emptied floor, Kame looks across the dressing room at Jin, hair still wet from the post-concert shower, and smiles.
Kiss me
It takes a long time for it to fully sink in. March 22nd, they say, it's being made official, they say. It's still snowing outside, but neither of them feel the cold as they make their way back to Kame's place.
Five years they've been waiting, five years, and just as they all reach a point that is almost acceptance of being a junior group, just as they're finding ways of forgetting about the chance to debut, it's here.
The soft click of the door to Kame's apartment closing behind them seems to snap both men out of their daze, and Jin turns towards Kame with a grin wider and brighter than ever before.
"We did it," He exclaims, throwing his arms around Kame's shoulders, and Kame squeezes him back tightly, "We did it."
"It won't stop here," Kame reminds him, sagging against the older man for a moment before straightening up again. "It'll only get more crazy from now on."
"But we'll make it," Jin says surely, and helps himself to a bottled beer from the fridge, but gets one for Kame too. "C'mon. Before your brother gets home and claims the TV. Celebratory soccer!"
Jin's face is alive when the match is on, figures in widescreen plastered over the living room wall. His excitable reactions make Kame respond in kind, half from watching the game itself and half from the undisguised emotion on the other man's face.
When Jin's current-favourite team scores, it's lucky that their bottles are on the coffee table in front of them because the way Jin's fists punch the air would make a lesser mortal fear for objects close by. When they score again, Jin whoops and then laughs, wide-mouthed, eyes crinkling. It feels natural.
The game ends and the sports commentators begin their lengthy post-match discussions, and Kame sinks back against the sofa, beer bottle held loosely between both hands in his lap. This feels natural, comfortable. It's as though work never happened, as though their first CD release isn't imminent, as though they don't live their lives in the spotlight. For that moment, it's just the two of them, kicking back with beers and soccer on the television.
Jin nudges Kame's shoulder with his own, Kame turns to face him, still smiling. It feels like the most normal thing in the world when, without hesitating, Jin leans across and kisses the smile from Kame's mouth - and when they pull apart and Jin is still wearing the same smile, the same sparkle in his eyes, this, too, feels natural, feels comfortable, feels right.
Jin gets up to grab another beer, and Kame looks down at the empty bottle between his fingers, and smiles.
Love me
They've got half an hour until they're due back on screen, and four of their six are catching a few blissful hours of sleep before the drama special currently showing is over. They've barely started, but the chances to sleep over the next twenty-four hours are going to be few and far between, so they're all taking what they can get.
Jin, however, hasn't slept a wink yet, eyes glued to the small screen, volume turned down low. Kame's eyes are almost closed, but sleep is evading him, so he watches Jin watch him instead, the tiny, sickly version of himself wrapped up in white blankets.
But fifteen minutes before the end of the show, Jin suddenly shoots to his feet and stalks out, leaving the television on and all his things on the table. When ten minutes pass and he hasn't returned, Kame shakes Nakamaru awake and leaves to look for him.
It doesn't take long; Jin's just outside, back pressed to the hard plaster, head bowed forwards with his hair all in his eyes.
"Jin?"
"Mm?"
"We need to get back... The show's nearly finished."
Jin grunts again, but makes no move to straighten up and follow Kame back, so he steps closer. He's used to Jin's moods by now, but something tells Kame this one is different.
"Jin?"
"Mm?"
"Is everything okay?"
"Mm."
At least he's still responding. "Really?"
Jin lifts his head and swallows, doesn't answer.
"Jin?"
He sniffs softly, and blinks. Blinks again, and again, until Kame reaches out and presses two fingers to the side of Jin's jaw, turning the other man to face him. Jin's eyes are shining, the bag held loosely in the curve of his hands, and Kame barely has to draw him in before Jin's face is pressed into his shoulder, arms thrown around Kame's waist.
Kame embraces him without a second thought, pulling his friend - if they could really be called just friends anymore - into a tight hug. He doesn't need Jin to say anything to feel the edge of desperation in his touch, fingers digging into the sparse flesh on his bones, and then Jin inhales, one long, shuddering breath that shakes Kame's body. Jin's arms squeeze him almost roughly, and Kame winds his fingers through Jin's hair, cupping the back of his head momentarily before he strokes through it, petting him slowly.
"I'm not going anywhere, I promise."
He pretends not to hear the soft whimper that gets muffled against his neck, pressing his smile to Jin's cheek in a ghost of a kiss instead.
Stop me
Kame never thinks he needs the confirmation that Jin will always be there, too. Not until a month later when Jin's staring at the floor and telling them that it's too much, he can't do it anymore, can't be the idol everyone wants.
Why? They all demand, Why not? Where are you going? Will you come back?
"I don't know," Jin says, voice quiet and just a little bit broken, "I don't know, I don't know, I don't know. But I can't."
He isn't surprised to find Jin on his couch when he arrives home, knees pulled up to his chest as he stares, unseeingly, at the images flickering on the television screen. The curtains are open but the lights are off, leaving the rest of the apartment dark, and Kame leaves his shoes in the entry way and the bag of take-out on the table to go cold.
When Jin kisses him it's frantic and needy, searching for the acceptance he's so obviously aching for like he'll find it hidden in Kame's mouth. And Kame, he's always been hopeless when it comes to Jin, unable to deny him anything in the world. He can't bring himself to tell Jin just how betrayed he feels, how hurt he is that Jin will happily share his food, his bed, but couldn't share his troubles, couldn't even share the news of his departure before he told the rest of them. But Jin's hands are urgent as they slide under his shirt, just this side of forceful when he pushes it over Kame's head, giving him a few precious moments to heave in a breath of air before Jin's stealing it away again. The rest of them, they'd gotten angry enough, shouted enough, and the redness of Jin's eyes show that he's cried enough already, so Kame can't do anything but go with it, let Jin take what he wants, what he needs, what only Kame can give him.
He'll be back, Kame tells himself over and over as Jin sets a relentless pace and they crash together like angry waves, his fingers bruising on Kame's hips and Kame's name thick and heavy on his tongue. He'll be back, and they'll be KAT-TUN again, and all Kame has to do is hang on and hold out until the time comes.
Jin only speaks when it's all over, when he's sprawled half-across Kame's chest which rises and falls with every panting breath.
"I'm sorry," he whispers, and it catches in his throat, "I'm sorry."
As much as Kame wants to tell him that he's being childish and selfish and that he's running away from the best thing that will ever happen to him, he can't. He knows that every single one of them have felt this way, have wished for a chance to escape and see what it's like to live a normal life, Jin's just the only one of them brave enough - and scared enough of what he might become - to actually do it. And while Jin just keeps apologising, over and over like he'll die if he doesn't say it three hundred times all in a row, Kame brushes his hair back from his face and kisses his forehead every time, a silent wish of good luck.
Jin's too worn out to notice how his smile slips around the edges.
Lock me
America doesn't change Jin, Kame realises when Jin's back and the tours are over. America just forces him to grow up, and fast. Jin learns how to look after himself without family and friends and colleagues surrounding him to pick up the pieces of his mistakes, he learns how to read body language to get by until he can understand the rapid bursts of English that are so different from what he's used to back home. He finds a whole new culture, new places and atmospheres that are a shock to his system, but he learns to hide it well.
He learns to hide things a little too well, Kame thinks, because the Jin Akanishi that rejoins them is not the same Akanishi Jin that left.
This new Jin doesn't always speak when he's spoken to and is prone to drifting off into his own thoughts in the middle of a meeting. He's sluggish and quiet, hiding his discomfort behind a gentle frown of boredom, smoking enough to put a chimney to shame and partying like he forgets that being an idol is a full time job.
Forgets, or just doesn't care, Kame thinks bitterly.
Sighing to himself, Kame scoops up the rings on his dresser and slides them on, one by one, pausing as he gets to the last. It still feels natural to slip the thin, silver pinky ring onto his finger, and he wonders how long it will take him to break the habit. It had taken four months of unanswered calls and mails, but he'd gotten the message in the end, and ever since, his little finger had felt empty without it. No-one mentions him not wearing it, but he knows they notice; as hard as they all try to pretend they don't care, they always notice, and they notice too when Jin comes back, and isn't wearing his, either.
Kame closes his fingers around the silver band, feels it digging into his palm, and remembers the day they bought them, all those years ago. Two totally different people to who they are now, two children who hadn't realised what their friendship rings would mean to everyone else, nor what they would come to mean to each other. The sun glinting off of the ocean into their eyes hadn't even begun to rival the brightness of Jin's smile, the vibrancy of Kame's laugh, and he wonders when the tides turned stormy and the thunderclouds settled in overhead.
But no matter what happens from here on out, no matter how many harsh words and harsher glares are exchanged between them, no matter how often they end up riling each other up until they snap, Kame will still have this. He'll still have his tiny half of their bond, clutched safely in his palm, and he'll still be able to look back on the memories they've created together with a smile.
Use me
It's storming when Jin turns up on Kame's doorstep, sheets of ice cold rain pelting down from the heavens and soaking him right through. Kame doesn't think twice before stepping to one side, and Jin's shouldering his way past before Kame can open his mouth to ask why he's here, strong hands curling around Kame's upper arms faster than he can kick the door closed. He doesn't open his mouth - except to welcome Jin's tongue - doesn't question or comment or say anything at all, really, that isn't Jin, Jin, Jin, the name so familiar yet oddly foreign on his lips. He doesn't have the breath to find out what's brought Jin to him all of a sudden, doesn't care to know, doesn't want to know, and the idea that it doesn't matter why, just that he's here will probably scare him more when the other man isn't pressing him back onto his bed and shedding his sodden clothes.
Jin's murmuring softly to himself, the same thing over and over against Kame's throat, shivering where their skin is pressed together from head to toe. It's only when he can make out what Jin's saying through his neck, through the haze of more, now, please that's settled around them like a cloud, I don't need you, I don't need you, I don't, that Kame realises he's probably not shuddering from the cold.
Jin's hands bruise, his teeth bite, his nails scratch, and Kame welcomes all of it. He soaks it up like a sponge and revels in Jin's touch until it's all over, too soon, and Jin's releasing him like he burns to throw his wet clothes back on over still-damp hair.
"I've met someone," Jin says, facing away from the bed with his head hanging low and one hand on the door frame. It's possibly the first civil words they've exchanged off-air ever since he came back.
"I'm glad," Kame replies, and he means it, he really does. Even if his smile doesn't quite reach his eyes.
Take me
She doesn't last long. Jin can't stand feeling trapped, needs to feel wanted but hates to be clung to. It's a fine balance, one that Nishiyama doesn't quite get it right, and neither do any of the girls after her. Kame's become almost accustomed to hearing about Jin's break-ups from other people, Yamashita, Nakamaru, Matsumoto, and on those days he'll cancel any plans he has, change his sheets and shower just before seven. It's possibly the only time in his life that Jin never arrives so much as a minute late.
Kame doesn't mind being his rebound, is more than happy to show Jin just how much all those girls are missing every time he arrives with that look in his eyes, the one that's equal parts need and hurt and self-loathing.
They don't talk about it; they've never been very good with words, and nothing that happens between them ever sees the light of day, not the kisses that always, always lead to more, not the touches, just as soft as they are hard, not the gasps or Jin's soft cry of Kazuya that Kame pretends not to hear.
He's fallen too hard, he knows, for someone who is no longer able to love him in return. He's fallen hard enough that he'll take whatever he can get, regardless of the pieces of his heart Jin's breaking off; taking a new fragment with him every time he leaves, the evidence of their fleeting passion still warm on Kame's skin, and Kame sees him off with a small, broken smile.
Because it's all he really knows how to do anymore.
I'm dancing in water
It wasn't always like this, emotion of every colour flowing and surging between them like an untamable ocean. At times it's so intense Kame fears that he'll be engulfed by it, that he'll drown and be lost to everything but this, this, them; at others, he wonders if Jin's the only thing keeping him afloat. It's not easy any more now that they're adults. By day they are colleagues, team-mates and rivals at the same time, competing for the ratings and the fans and the sales. A popularity contest on a national, maybe even an international level, with neither one of them willing - or able - to back down. They taunt and wound and hurt with their words, two such different people clashing like oil and water, and it's only when night falls and Jin's covering Kame's body with his own that they flow together again, lapping and soothing, bathing tired muscles and anguished souls.
It's not healthy, Kame knows, it's not right, but for now, it's enough. It's enough that Jin comes to him now with or without an aching heart, that Jin finds comfort in his embrace in the dead of night even if they never acknowledge it outside of the bedroom. It's enough, he tells himself every time Jin leaves before dawn, it's enough, it's enough, it has to be.
It's enough, it's enough, again and again like a mantra in his head because if he stops, it won't be.
Blinking at his reflection, Kame fastens the silver ring on a long, long chain around his neck before tucking it inside his shirt, pastes his smile on to cover up tired eyes sunken cheeks, and heads out to face the world.
Because for now, it's all they've got.
Soft R; Akame
Even when it hurts to do it, all Kame can do is smile. For kizuna_exchange for saengie, here. I owe SO MUCH to P-suke for this because I was struggling terribly, and she was wonderful enough to write bits and sections here and there to give me the push I needed to keep going ;_; Thank you ♥
The lovely adistantsun has podficced this here :D Check it out!
Show me
It's so much easier when they're young. They hit it off from their first meeting, eyes locking across a crowded room until Jin laughs and points at Kame's eyebrows then trips over his feet. Kame laughs so hard he has to clutch at his stomach to stop himself tumbling over too, but luckily the old man with the creepy eyes is too busy frowning disapprovingly in Jin's direction to notice.
Kame shares his lunch - the first of many - with Jin, squeezed onto a bench outside the audition hall, and it's easy. It's easy to be friends when they're young, clinging to familiarity in the face of the unknown, and they're both dreaming of being the next big thing, and even when at first Jin doesn't get in, he still wants Kame's mail address. Because one day, he says, one day Kame will be a star, and then he can tell all his friends that he knows the famous Kamenashi Kazuya.
Kame tries, but can't hide his smile.
Hold me
The sandy ground is uncomfortable beneath him, and the flimsy tent doesn't do much to ward off the cold sea breeze, but Kame's never been more content. The cameras are gone, but Jin hasn't moved, just burrows a little more into Kame's thigh, cushioned by his sleeping bag.
Jin's got an arm wrapped around Kame's legs now, already snoring softly, and Kame twists his body forwards and wriggles an arm free, shuffling around until he can wind it around Jin's waist. He's uncomfortable, he's cold, he's tired, and everything aches, but with Jin curled up against him, face hidden in the folds of Kame's sleeping bag, he thinks he's never felt better.
Goosebumps erupt on his skin when Kame reaches down to pat Jin's fluffy head, and Jin nuzzles closer and purrs like a cat, humming softly in his sleep.
Kame just smiles.
Tell me
The room is buzzing. There's an undertone of worry, of can we really do this because one full show a day is hard enough, let alone eleven. But here, now, surrounded by glitter and feathers and sequins, the excitement of being given their own shows, all their own is too infectious for something as insignificant as exhaustion to bring them down.
Five shows later, and exhaustion is beginning to win out. Seven, and there's a sluggishness to their dances and an edge to their voices, and after nine it's all but impossible to drag themselves up and back out onto the stage for the next group of screaming girls.
After the tenth show, it's Jin, the one who had started complaining first, who stands on shaky legs and looks around at them sprawled across the furniture, costumes all askew. His eyes are still red and puffy, and he sniffs without seeming to realise it, but then a grin flickers around his lips. "Ka-zu-ya," he says, voice quiet but imitating the calls of the crowd, soft and rhythmic and Kame is reminded of seagulls gliding across the Okinawan sea, "Ka-zu-ya!"
Kame turns his head, looking at the older boy from his place on the sofa with a slight frown.
"Ka-zu-ya!"
"Ji-n," he responds with a sigh. "What is it?"
Jin just grins. "Ka-zu-ya!"
Koki looks between the pair of them, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as catches on, "Yu-u-cchi."
Nakamaru grunts, and Ueda digs through his bag for his headphones.
"Yu-u-cchi."
"Ka-zu-ya!"
"U-e-pi~" Junno's voice joins them, and Ueda pauses, fixes him with a look. It's almost a frown, thoughtful before he smiles brilliantly.
The chorus of names, over and over and over accompanied by the wide smiles and shining eyes of his band mates stays with Kame even after they've taken to the stage again, rings in his ears louder and clearer than the shouts and cheers and chants of all the girls who are just desperate to be heard.
All six of them throw themselves into it with every ounce of strength they can muster, full of laughter and enthusiasm that just a few moments before had seemed a million miles away. It's their best show yet, and as the lights dim and the glitter falls to the emptied floor, Kame looks across the dressing room at Jin, hair still wet from the post-concert shower, and smiles.
Kiss me
It takes a long time for it to fully sink in. March 22nd, they say, it's being made official, they say. It's still snowing outside, but neither of them feel the cold as they make their way back to Kame's place.
Five years they've been waiting, five years, and just as they all reach a point that is almost acceptance of being a junior group, just as they're finding ways of forgetting about the chance to debut, it's here.
The soft click of the door to Kame's apartment closing behind them seems to snap both men out of their daze, and Jin turns towards Kame with a grin wider and brighter than ever before.
"We did it," He exclaims, throwing his arms around Kame's shoulders, and Kame squeezes him back tightly, "We did it."
"It won't stop here," Kame reminds him, sagging against the older man for a moment before straightening up again. "It'll only get more crazy from now on."
"But we'll make it," Jin says surely, and helps himself to a bottled beer from the fridge, but gets one for Kame too. "C'mon. Before your brother gets home and claims the TV. Celebratory soccer!"
Jin's face is alive when the match is on, figures in widescreen plastered over the living room wall. His excitable reactions make Kame respond in kind, half from watching the game itself and half from the undisguised emotion on the other man's face.
When Jin's current-favourite team scores, it's lucky that their bottles are on the coffee table in front of them because the way Jin's fists punch the air would make a lesser mortal fear for objects close by. When they score again, Jin whoops and then laughs, wide-mouthed, eyes crinkling. It feels natural.
The game ends and the sports commentators begin their lengthy post-match discussions, and Kame sinks back against the sofa, beer bottle held loosely between both hands in his lap. This feels natural, comfortable. It's as though work never happened, as though their first CD release isn't imminent, as though they don't live their lives in the spotlight. For that moment, it's just the two of them, kicking back with beers and soccer on the television.
Jin nudges Kame's shoulder with his own, Kame turns to face him, still smiling. It feels like the most normal thing in the world when, without hesitating, Jin leans across and kisses the smile from Kame's mouth - and when they pull apart and Jin is still wearing the same smile, the same sparkle in his eyes, this, too, feels natural, feels comfortable, feels right.
Jin gets up to grab another beer, and Kame looks down at the empty bottle between his fingers, and smiles.
Love me
They've got half an hour until they're due back on screen, and four of their six are catching a few blissful hours of sleep before the drama special currently showing is over. They've barely started, but the chances to sleep over the next twenty-four hours are going to be few and far between, so they're all taking what they can get.
Jin, however, hasn't slept a wink yet, eyes glued to the small screen, volume turned down low. Kame's eyes are almost closed, but sleep is evading him, so he watches Jin watch him instead, the tiny, sickly version of himself wrapped up in white blankets.
But fifteen minutes before the end of the show, Jin suddenly shoots to his feet and stalks out, leaving the television on and all his things on the table. When ten minutes pass and he hasn't returned, Kame shakes Nakamaru awake and leaves to look for him.
It doesn't take long; Jin's just outside, back pressed to the hard plaster, head bowed forwards with his hair all in his eyes.
"Jin?"
"Mm?"
"We need to get back... The show's nearly finished."
Jin grunts again, but makes no move to straighten up and follow Kame back, so he steps closer. He's used to Jin's moods by now, but something tells Kame this one is different.
"Jin?"
"Mm?"
"Is everything okay?"
"Mm."
At least he's still responding. "Really?"
Jin lifts his head and swallows, doesn't answer.
"Jin?"
He sniffs softly, and blinks. Blinks again, and again, until Kame reaches out and presses two fingers to the side of Jin's jaw, turning the other man to face him. Jin's eyes are shining, the bag held loosely in the curve of his hands, and Kame barely has to draw him in before Jin's face is pressed into his shoulder, arms thrown around Kame's waist.
Kame embraces him without a second thought, pulling his friend - if they could really be called just friends anymore - into a tight hug. He doesn't need Jin to say anything to feel the edge of desperation in his touch, fingers digging into the sparse flesh on his bones, and then Jin inhales, one long, shuddering breath that shakes Kame's body. Jin's arms squeeze him almost roughly, and Kame winds his fingers through Jin's hair, cupping the back of his head momentarily before he strokes through it, petting him slowly.
"I'm not going anywhere, I promise."
He pretends not to hear the soft whimper that gets muffled against his neck, pressing his smile to Jin's cheek in a ghost of a kiss instead.
Stop me
Kame never thinks he needs the confirmation that Jin will always be there, too. Not until a month later when Jin's staring at the floor and telling them that it's too much, he can't do it anymore, can't be the idol everyone wants.
Why? They all demand, Why not? Where are you going? Will you come back?
"I don't know," Jin says, voice quiet and just a little bit broken, "I don't know, I don't know, I don't know. But I can't."
He isn't surprised to find Jin on his couch when he arrives home, knees pulled up to his chest as he stares, unseeingly, at the images flickering on the television screen. The curtains are open but the lights are off, leaving the rest of the apartment dark, and Kame leaves his shoes in the entry way and the bag of take-out on the table to go cold.
When Jin kisses him it's frantic and needy, searching for the acceptance he's so obviously aching for like he'll find it hidden in Kame's mouth. And Kame, he's always been hopeless when it comes to Jin, unable to deny him anything in the world. He can't bring himself to tell Jin just how betrayed he feels, how hurt he is that Jin will happily share his food, his bed, but couldn't share his troubles, couldn't even share the news of his departure before he told the rest of them. But Jin's hands are urgent as they slide under his shirt, just this side of forceful when he pushes it over Kame's head, giving him a few precious moments to heave in a breath of air before Jin's stealing it away again. The rest of them, they'd gotten angry enough, shouted enough, and the redness of Jin's eyes show that he's cried enough already, so Kame can't do anything but go with it, let Jin take what he wants, what he needs, what only Kame can give him.
He'll be back, Kame tells himself over and over as Jin sets a relentless pace and they crash together like angry waves, his fingers bruising on Kame's hips and Kame's name thick and heavy on his tongue. He'll be back, and they'll be KAT-TUN again, and all Kame has to do is hang on and hold out until the time comes.
Jin only speaks when it's all over, when he's sprawled half-across Kame's chest which rises and falls with every panting breath.
"I'm sorry," he whispers, and it catches in his throat, "I'm sorry."
As much as Kame wants to tell him that he's being childish and selfish and that he's running away from the best thing that will ever happen to him, he can't. He knows that every single one of them have felt this way, have wished for a chance to escape and see what it's like to live a normal life, Jin's just the only one of them brave enough - and scared enough of what he might become - to actually do it. And while Jin just keeps apologising, over and over like he'll die if he doesn't say it three hundred times all in a row, Kame brushes his hair back from his face and kisses his forehead every time, a silent wish of good luck.
Jin's too worn out to notice how his smile slips around the edges.
Lock me
America doesn't change Jin, Kame realises when Jin's back and the tours are over. America just forces him to grow up, and fast. Jin learns how to look after himself without family and friends and colleagues surrounding him to pick up the pieces of his mistakes, he learns how to read body language to get by until he can understand the rapid bursts of English that are so different from what he's used to back home. He finds a whole new culture, new places and atmospheres that are a shock to his system, but he learns to hide it well.
He learns to hide things a little too well, Kame thinks, because the Jin Akanishi that rejoins them is not the same Akanishi Jin that left.
This new Jin doesn't always speak when he's spoken to and is prone to drifting off into his own thoughts in the middle of a meeting. He's sluggish and quiet, hiding his discomfort behind a gentle frown of boredom, smoking enough to put a chimney to shame and partying like he forgets that being an idol is a full time job.
Forgets, or just doesn't care, Kame thinks bitterly.
Sighing to himself, Kame scoops up the rings on his dresser and slides them on, one by one, pausing as he gets to the last. It still feels natural to slip the thin, silver pinky ring onto his finger, and he wonders how long it will take him to break the habit. It had taken four months of unanswered calls and mails, but he'd gotten the message in the end, and ever since, his little finger had felt empty without it. No-one mentions him not wearing it, but he knows they notice; as hard as they all try to pretend they don't care, they always notice, and they notice too when Jin comes back, and isn't wearing his, either.
Kame closes his fingers around the silver band, feels it digging into his palm, and remembers the day they bought them, all those years ago. Two totally different people to who they are now, two children who hadn't realised what their friendship rings would mean to everyone else, nor what they would come to mean to each other. The sun glinting off of the ocean into their eyes hadn't even begun to rival the brightness of Jin's smile, the vibrancy of Kame's laugh, and he wonders when the tides turned stormy and the thunderclouds settled in overhead.
But no matter what happens from here on out, no matter how many harsh words and harsher glares are exchanged between them, no matter how often they end up riling each other up until they snap, Kame will still have this. He'll still have his tiny half of their bond, clutched safely in his palm, and he'll still be able to look back on the memories they've created together with a smile.
Use me
It's storming when Jin turns up on Kame's doorstep, sheets of ice cold rain pelting down from the heavens and soaking him right through. Kame doesn't think twice before stepping to one side, and Jin's shouldering his way past before Kame can open his mouth to ask why he's here, strong hands curling around Kame's upper arms faster than he can kick the door closed. He doesn't open his mouth - except to welcome Jin's tongue - doesn't question or comment or say anything at all, really, that isn't Jin, Jin, Jin, the name so familiar yet oddly foreign on his lips. He doesn't have the breath to find out what's brought Jin to him all of a sudden, doesn't care to know, doesn't want to know, and the idea that it doesn't matter why, just that he's here will probably scare him more when the other man isn't pressing him back onto his bed and shedding his sodden clothes.
Jin's murmuring softly to himself, the same thing over and over against Kame's throat, shivering where their skin is pressed together from head to toe. It's only when he can make out what Jin's saying through his neck, through the haze of more, now, please that's settled around them like a cloud, I don't need you, I don't need you, I don't, that Kame realises he's probably not shuddering from the cold.
Jin's hands bruise, his teeth bite, his nails scratch, and Kame welcomes all of it. He soaks it up like a sponge and revels in Jin's touch until it's all over, too soon, and Jin's releasing him like he burns to throw his wet clothes back on over still-damp hair.
"I've met someone," Jin says, facing away from the bed with his head hanging low and one hand on the door frame. It's possibly the first civil words they've exchanged off-air ever since he came back.
"I'm glad," Kame replies, and he means it, he really does. Even if his smile doesn't quite reach his eyes.
Take me
She doesn't last long. Jin can't stand feeling trapped, needs to feel wanted but hates to be clung to. It's a fine balance, one that Nishiyama doesn't quite get it right, and neither do any of the girls after her. Kame's become almost accustomed to hearing about Jin's break-ups from other people, Yamashita, Nakamaru, Matsumoto, and on those days he'll cancel any plans he has, change his sheets and shower just before seven. It's possibly the only time in his life that Jin never arrives so much as a minute late.
Kame doesn't mind being his rebound, is more than happy to show Jin just how much all those girls are missing every time he arrives with that look in his eyes, the one that's equal parts need and hurt and self-loathing.
They don't talk about it; they've never been very good with words, and nothing that happens between them ever sees the light of day, not the kisses that always, always lead to more, not the touches, just as soft as they are hard, not the gasps or Jin's soft cry of Kazuya that Kame pretends not to hear.
He's fallen too hard, he knows, for someone who is no longer able to love him in return. He's fallen hard enough that he'll take whatever he can get, regardless of the pieces of his heart Jin's breaking off; taking a new fragment with him every time he leaves, the evidence of their fleeting passion still warm on Kame's skin, and Kame sees him off with a small, broken smile.
Because it's all he really knows how to do anymore.
I'm dancing in water
It wasn't always like this, emotion of every colour flowing and surging between them like an untamable ocean. At times it's so intense Kame fears that he'll be engulfed by it, that he'll drown and be lost to everything but this, this, them; at others, he wonders if Jin's the only thing keeping him afloat. It's not easy any more now that they're adults. By day they are colleagues, team-mates and rivals at the same time, competing for the ratings and the fans and the sales. A popularity contest on a national, maybe even an international level, with neither one of them willing - or able - to back down. They taunt and wound and hurt with their words, two such different people clashing like oil and water, and it's only when night falls and Jin's covering Kame's body with his own that they flow together again, lapping and soothing, bathing tired muscles and anguished souls.
It's not healthy, Kame knows, it's not right, but for now, it's enough. It's enough that Jin comes to him now with or without an aching heart, that Jin finds comfort in his embrace in the dead of night even if they never acknowledge it outside of the bedroom. It's enough, he tells himself every time Jin leaves before dawn, it's enough, it's enough, it has to be.
It's enough, it's enough, again and again like a mantra in his head because if he stops, it won't be.
Blinking at his reflection, Kame fastens the silver ring on a long, long chain around his neck before tucking it inside his shirt, pastes his smile on to cover up tired eyes sunken cheeks, and heads out to face the world.
Because for now, it's all they've got.