Prompt 7: Today your heart, tomorrow the world - Team What If
Title: Seishun Amigo
Rating: PG13
Pairing: Kame/Yamapi
Summary: Debuts can be so fragile.
Prompt: Today, your heart, tomorrow, the world.
Notes: Unending thanks to the mods for being so patient with me, and to M for giving me the idea for this :D It was plotted and mostly written before the big fandom announcements, so please don't hate me for it ._.
Yamapi knows what everyone thinks about him. They think he's polite, genuine, hard-working, friendly, and all of these are true. They also think he's a little air-headed, forgetful, easily distracted. Not the kind of person to be able to remember things successfully, especially not years later.
To a point, they're right. Most of the time he has so much going on, so many things to think about and plan and prepare for that his mind usually is somewhere else, and he usually does forget little things like re-capping his water bottle and lining the slippers up neatly in the genkan. But when it's something important, he remembers.
He remembers that Koyama's nephews love the candy from a family-run store on the outskirts of Tokyo, so when he goes out of town for work, he always makes sure to bring some back with him. He remembers Tegoshi's problem with green peppers, and always hoards the take-out containers when they get dinner in so that he can pick them all out first. Yuu loves to tan and to surf but Jin hates getting sand between his toes, so when they manage to squeeze in a day out together, he always forgoes comfort and chooses pebble beaches instead. He remembers to keep his fridge fully stocked with his friends' favourite beers, he remembers that Ryo never sleeps well on Sundays, that Koki's always buys Wanko no Ice for his dog in the summer and that Shige studies best with a full stomach. And Kame. He remembers Kame.
He remembers the stolen girl and Kame's face that day in the park, betrayal etched into his features and painted with a layer of hurt, hidden from eyes less trained than Yamapi's own by the anger masking it all. He remembers the pain of the bruises and the busted lip when Kame had caught him off-guard; Yamapi had underestimated him, and he'd paid for it.
He remembers years of avoidance, of looking the other way when they passed in the corridors, years of tugging Jin back and forth between them. He remembers the torn look in Jin's eyes every time Kame came up in conversation, on the television, on Jin's cellphone. He remembers the one time he'd actively avoided his best friend's company, choosing Ryo to tell first about his new role opposite Kame. He'd done nothing but complain that night, about Kame and directors and scripts, and the whole time he'd felt guilty that he hadn't told Jin first.
The first day on set had been the worst. Neither of them were particularly willing to so much as share a glance, and over the years since they'd seen the nastier side of each other's fists it was clear that what had been a child's feud had clung to both of them like a leech, sucking out all of their frustration and animosity and turning it on the other person.
Yamapi remembers their director's patience, and how quickly they'd used it all up. He remembers the tentative dinner they'd been sent on, with orders to come back civil if not friends, and the awkward, stunted conversation that followed.
"Why are we still fighting?"
"I... I don't know."
After that, every time Yamapi had made a fool of himself, he saw Kame's eyes - if not always his mouth - laughing at him. He remembers how fond he'd become of Kame in such a short amount of time, how he'd finally seen through the childish grudge and found why Jin liked him so much. That smile had become something he strived to see every day, and Yamapi remembers vividly when it had begun to wilt around the edges.
He might not have been the most observant person, but even he could see the prominent ridges in Kame's spine threatening to break through the skin when he changed after a long day of shooting, and Yamapi remembers the satisfaction he'd felt one lunchtime when Kame took the food he was holding out from between his chopsticks. His mother never argued when he asked for extra food in his bento, and Kame never fought when he brought too many pastries to eat all by himself.
He didn't keep the weight on for long though. Yamapi remembers the worry and guilt on Kame's face the day they'd shared the news of their impending debut as a duo, and the realisation that the look he saw in Jin's eyes could mirror what he'd seen in Kame's all those years before hit him straight in the gut.
"It's fine, you can't control the management," Jin told them, but they both knew he was just trying to be nice. All this time, he's wanted them to get along, and now that they finally were, Yamapi could tell the tiny, selfish part of Jin wanted things back the way they were.
After that, it had only gotten worse.
"I know you were only going to be a temporary unit, but your success is undeniable," Johnny told them one gloomy afternoon. "How would you feel about Shuji to Akira being permanent?" It might have been posed as a question, but Yamapi had been offered enough work by this man that he knew what required thought and what just required him to say 'yes'.
The dark thunderclouds outside seemed perfectly apt given the sudden plummeting of his heart, but like the professional he was, he had nodded and smiled and promised to work hard. One look at Kame told him the other man was just as dubious as he was, but he too voiced his polite agreement and they were excused.
"Yamashita-kun," Kame murmured once they'd turned down an empty corridor. It still hurt that he refused to call him Yamapi like everyone else.
"Mm?"
"It'll be okay. It's not like he's making us leave our groups, right?" Kame's voice sounded uneven, almost as if even as he was speaking, he was willing himself to believe it just as much as he was trying to convince Yamapi of its truth.
Yamapi swallowed, the sound unnaturally loud in the deserted corridor, then nodded. "Right. Ryo-chan's in two groups, and he manages. This isn't as bad as that at all, this is just like... like a side project."
"Exactly," Kame said firmly, and that was that.
-
For a while, everything was great. Both Yamapi and Kame landed drama after drama, standing in the spotlight alone now instead of sharing a dual lead, and their second single - a gentle ballad simply titled Our Destiny - shot to the top of the charts. Their first album, Unmei no Kizuna, and subsequent tour received just as excited a response.
Yamapi remembers it all, the happy memories and the painful ones. He remembers the elation in Kame's face that day in March, eyes sparkling with excitement at what his group had been denied for so long. He remembers his own members coming and going, the tears that came with their disbanding and the laughter that carried them through one final New Year's performance together. He remembers the night Kame had come to him looking utterly desolate, and Yamapi had taken that step forward, wrapping him up in his embrace without question because they both knew Jin was leaving.
That must have been when it all started. Through everything, Kame was always there when he needed someone, even when he didn't know he needed someone. Part of it may have been that they were together for work a lot of the time, but most of it was definitely Kame simply knowing when to be around like an acute sixth sense. Over the years, two men who could just as easily have grown up filled with resentment for each other had become firm friends, closer than Yamapi would ever have imagined, and if he's honest with himself, it didn't end there. Kamenashi had become Kame had become Kazuya, and animosity had morphed into acceptance and friendship and something deeper than all that. Something he'd never pursued before but something that was there all the same, a warmth and affection that went beyond the boundaries of simple friendship.
Yamapi had skipped over the moral dilemma and internal angst that seemed inevitable when questioning one's sexuality - one-hundred-percent straight just wasn't something it was possible to be in the industry, especially not when you worked for Johnny's, and he wasn't really one for over-the-top emotions like that anyway. But just because he hadn't freaked out about it doesn't mean it was that easy to clue Kame in to the direction his feelings had taken.
He wasn't in any hurry though. Things were comfortable like this, coffee and take-out and nights curled up at either end of the sofa with beer or wine or juice, if they had work the next day. Sometimes friends would join them, sometimes not, but the atmosphere between them was always the same; quiet, comfortable, without a need to try and do or be anything they didn't want.
Tonight was just one such night, but instead of feeling relaxed Yamapi couldn't help but remember the evening Jin left all over again, when Kame had done away with any pretences for the first time, taken great handfuls of Yamapi's shirt and finally showed the terrifying, heart-crushing fear that they'd never see him again. Now, Kame was staring at the screen, light flickering in his eyes and across his face, but he wasn't seeing anything. Yamapi had known something was wrong the moment Kame turned up unannounced, but Kame would speak when he was ready and not a moment before.
"He's going to split us up," Kame murmured, and Yamapi only caught it because they'd been doing this for years. 'Us,' he'd said, but he didn't mean them.
His first instinct was to deny it, to tell Kame he was imagining things and that Johnny had already disbanded one group from their generation, he certainly wouldn't be stupid enough to do it again. But they'd both been in this business long enough to know that that was exactly what would happen if the old man - always planning ahead and looking far into the future - thought it would bring in more revenue.
Finally, he settled for a soft, questioning hum.
"He thinks we haven't noticed. He thinks that by giving us more work, we'll ignore the whispers."
Yamapi had heard the whispers, the speculation, the doubts, and he'd heard enough of them in the past to know you never, ever ignored them, not even the gossip rags. Even if there was little truth behind them - Kame is far too placid and giggly when drunk to so much as raise his voice to anyone, let alone a fist, and Jin's too oblivious to the people around him outside of his immediate group to be purposefully rude to anyone - there was always a reason for them. Johnny never let out anything he didn't want to see, didn't think would be beneficial to his acts in some way, and Yamapi knew that a few weeks before they announced his latest movie role, a small internet blog would surface claiming to have seen him on a private-looking date, which would soon be all over the newspapers. Maybe he'd even get pictures this time.
There was never anything coincidental, not in their line of work. And when the rumours were circling inside the Jimusho, well.
"What do you think he's going to do?" Yamapi asked, and saw Kame's shoulders slump. His arm itched to reach out to him, and Yamapi wondered why he was ignoring it long enough for Kame to lean back against the cushions. Yamapi tugged on Kame's hand once, and the other man shifted to rest his cheek on Yamapi's shoulder. Kame felt much smaller than Yamapi remembered, like he'd been losing weight again.
"He's building up the group's popularity. Tat-chan and Jin have their solo gigs, and Koki's meeting with a movie producer next week. R-One is being moved into a prime time spot, Taguchi's just been offered a lead drama role, and you and me, we've got our album and your movie."
Yamapi could already see where this was heading, and he tightened his hold, pressing his nose to Kame's hair.
"He's going to cut us out, Tomo," Kame whispered, and Yamapi's heart skipped a beat in spite of it all, because all this time, he'd always been 'Yamashita-kun'. "He's going to take out the K and the A, maybe they'll get one last single, then that'll be it."
Yamapi remembered the confusion and sense of loss he'd felt when they were told NEWS wasn't going to be coming back, and that was a group he'd only just learned to love, not six men who'd overcome every obstacle in their path and become more like brothers than colleagues.
It felt natural to press his lips to Kame's forehead in some semblance of comfort, and Yamapi was sure he heard Kame sigh softly in response.
-
Things progressed slowly between them after that. Neither of them mentioned the way Kame had fallen asleep in Yamapi's embrace to the rhythmic glide of the other man's fingers through his hair, but it was clear that some kind of barrier had been taken down between them, because they sat that little bit closer, talked that little bit softer, and when Kame caught Yamapi watching him now, instead of them both looking quickly away, Kame would hold his gaze for a moment and smile. They didn't talk about the increased frequency of the evenings they spent together nor the way both of them invariably fall asleep next to - or on top of - one another on the sofa. More often than not it was Kame's head on Yamapi's shoulder or in his lap, but Yamapi certainly wasn't about to complain. Especially not when sometimes, just before he fell asleep, Kame would talk to him, voice a soft, gentle murmur of sound, and sometimes, just sometimes, he'd slip up and in place of 'Yamashita-kun', it would be 'Tomo'.
Against his better judgement, they'd celebrated Kame's 24th birthday the day after the main event with an expensive, potent wine his parents had brought back from France, and Yamapi was reminded of just how much better he was at holding his alcohol than Kame. It's no secret that Kame's an affectionate drunk, but it had never gone further than him lounging across Yamapi's shoulders in the past. Now though, that kind of closeness was almost commonplace for the two of them, and with his inhibitions down Kame was much more talkative than usual to boot.
"You're really handsome," he said with a lazy smile, and Yamapi felt his cheeks flush at the compliment. It was something he heard often, but coming from Kame, even the simplest thing sounded different.
Yamapi didn't reply, but it was okay because Kame was still talking.
"You're so pretty," he said, leaning in to peer at Yamapi's face, and the back of the sofa gave Yamapi a reason for not backing up, "But you still look manly, too. I wish I had a face as nice as yours."
"You do!" Yamapi said, a little too quickly, and he couldn't tell if it was only the alcohol turning Kame's face red.
"I'm too bony to be attractive," Kame said like it was fact, "and my nose is stupid."
"I like your nose..." Yamapi said softly, and Kame smiled and fell silent, flopping to one side to let his head loll on Yamapi's bicep.
"You're so nice to me." Kame didn't say anything after that for a long time, but just as Yamapi was about to reach over for the blanket draped across the back of the sofa, assuming Kame had fallen asleep, he spoke up again.
"Girls always say my lips are too thin and my hands are too cold." Kame's voice was suddenly quiet, fragile almost, making Yamapi want to wrap him up and protect him from the world. Anyone else might have been unnerved by such feelings, but Yamapi had long since gotten over the fact that this wasn't the way normal friends behaved.
"What do they know," he said pointedly, and wasn't a question. Kame looked up at him, a tiny smile playing around the corners of his mouth.
"I bet they'd like yours more," Kame said, "They look so soft..."
Yamapi's heart threatened to beat its way right out of his chest as Kame shifted closer, almost up onto his knees to reach up and press two fingertips to Yamapi's mouth, and Yamapi was unable to stop his lips pursing all on their own in a ghost of a kiss against the warm pads.
Something flickered in Kame's eyes then, through the alcohol and the mirth and the sleep, and as he drew his hand away, Yamapi couldn't help but follow. Then Kame was leaning in closer too, and if Yamapi's heart had been pounding before, now it had stopped completely. The devil on his shoulder was telling him to kiss him, kiss him, while the angel on the other side was saying don't, you can't, not when he's drunk. But Yamapi was tired of waiting, tired of imagining and dreaming and wondering, tired of the maybe-they-are, maybe-they-aren't thing there was between them, and he closed that final few inches.
Just before he could press his mouth to Kame's, the other man stopped abruptly and blinked once, twice. Yamapi paused, and didn't think he'd ever be a good enough actor to keep the disappointment from his eyes when Kame moved away and, eventually, fell asleep in his lap.
-
The day Kame had been dreading came far sooner than either of them had anticipated. They'd just finished their tour as a duo - including three sold out nights at Tokyo Dome - and were enjoying a long awaited day off in each other's company when the call came, and when Kame returned four hours later, all trace of the tired satisfaction they'd shared had gone.
"That's it," he said the moment Yamapi let him in, and that was all he needed to say. Yamapi was glad Jin hadn't pushed to come too - he wasn't sure he'd be comfortable enough to comfort Kame the way he needed if that had happened.
There was no preamble this time, no entertainment or nourishment paving the way to relaxation, just Yamapi's arms wrapped around Kame's body, Yamapi's fingers curled around Kame's shoulder, Yamapi's mouth pressed to Kame's hair.
They didn't speak - didn't need to - and Yamapi just gently guided Kame around the coffee table and down onto the sofa, where they inevitably ended up most evenings anyway. He remembered the fragility in Kame's voice that night, the innocence and poorly-concealed hurt, but thought that he'd take that any day over this. He felt so helpless, only able to be a pillar of questionable strength whilst everything Kame had spent the past ten years of his life working for collapsed around him and left him surrounded by the debris of his efforts.
There was no anger, no frustration, no tears, but Yamapi could feel it all in the desperation in Kame's hands, clutching onto fistfuls of his shirt like if he could hold on tight enough, his strength alone would repair the broken bonds that once held his group together.
"It'll be okay, you know," Yamapi said eventually, and after a moment he felt Kame nod against his chest, "After all, you've always got Shuji to Akira, and no-one could be more awesome than them."
Kame laughed softly, and thought it wasn't as energetic as he was used to, there was still heart in it. Yamapi took that as a point to him.
"Yeah," Kame replied softly, "I guess so, huh?"
Yamapi remembers the way Kame's eyes had sparkled when he'd lifted his head, a stunning combination of such a spectrum of emotion that it was impossible to pick out any one thing; sadness, amusement, loneliness, affection, it was all there, all pooling in one place and tugging Yamapi's heart into his throat.
He remembers swallowing hard, painfully so, and nodding. "Let's show them what we've got."
Kame's smile was wider that time and the skin at the corners of his eyes crinkled. He was close, so close, and Yamapi remembers the unbearable pull of those eyes, of that smile on that mouth. He'd hesitated, worried that Kame would leave him hanging and feeling stupid again but this time Kame was moving towards him and he was powerless to resist.
Yamapi remembers how Kame's weight had felt shifting across his lap, the subtle shift of balance, how his hands had flattened against his chest and finally, finally, the way Kame's mouth had touched his. It was careful, cautious, and so gentle, but Yamapi remembers the way it had swept him up as if he were still there, reliving it all over again.
He remembers the way Kame had sighed out against his mouth when Yamapi had kissed him back, one hand sliding through Kame's hair to hold him properly. He remembers thinking that it had taken them five years to get to this, five years of literal blood, sweat and tears, of arguments and apologies and eventually, tentative hugs to get them to this point. And every moment of it had been so, so worth it.
Yeah, Yamapi thinks fondly as he turns onto his side beneath the covers, and Kame automatically curls closer as Yamapi pulls the other man's sleeping body nearer to his own; he remembers Kame.
And now, they've got all the time in the world to make new memories, to have new experiences for them both to remember together. For them to never forget.
Poll Team What If
Rating: PG13
Pairing: Kame/Yamapi
Summary: Debuts can be so fragile.
Prompt: Today, your heart, tomorrow, the world.
Notes: Unending thanks to the mods for being so patient with me, and to M for giving me the idea for this :D It was plotted and mostly written before the big fandom announcements, so please don't hate me for it ._.
Yamapi knows what everyone thinks about him. They think he's polite, genuine, hard-working, friendly, and all of these are true. They also think he's a little air-headed, forgetful, easily distracted. Not the kind of person to be able to remember things successfully, especially not years later.
To a point, they're right. Most of the time he has so much going on, so many things to think about and plan and prepare for that his mind usually is somewhere else, and he usually does forget little things like re-capping his water bottle and lining the slippers up neatly in the genkan. But when it's something important, he remembers.
He remembers that Koyama's nephews love the candy from a family-run store on the outskirts of Tokyo, so when he goes out of town for work, he always makes sure to bring some back with him. He remembers Tegoshi's problem with green peppers, and always hoards the take-out containers when they get dinner in so that he can pick them all out first. Yuu loves to tan and to surf but Jin hates getting sand between his toes, so when they manage to squeeze in a day out together, he always forgoes comfort and chooses pebble beaches instead. He remembers to keep his fridge fully stocked with his friends' favourite beers, he remembers that Ryo never sleeps well on Sundays, that Koki's always buys Wanko no Ice for his dog in the summer and that Shige studies best with a full stomach. And Kame. He remembers Kame.
He remembers the stolen girl and Kame's face that day in the park, betrayal etched into his features and painted with a layer of hurt, hidden from eyes less trained than Yamapi's own by the anger masking it all. He remembers the pain of the bruises and the busted lip when Kame had caught him off-guard; Yamapi had underestimated him, and he'd paid for it.
He remembers years of avoidance, of looking the other way when they passed in the corridors, years of tugging Jin back and forth between them. He remembers the torn look in Jin's eyes every time Kame came up in conversation, on the television, on Jin's cellphone. He remembers the one time he'd actively avoided his best friend's company, choosing Ryo to tell first about his new role opposite Kame. He'd done nothing but complain that night, about Kame and directors and scripts, and the whole time he'd felt guilty that he hadn't told Jin first.
The first day on set had been the worst. Neither of them were particularly willing to so much as share a glance, and over the years since they'd seen the nastier side of each other's fists it was clear that what had been a child's feud had clung to both of them like a leech, sucking out all of their frustration and animosity and turning it on the other person.
Yamapi remembers their director's patience, and how quickly they'd used it all up. He remembers the tentative dinner they'd been sent on, with orders to come back civil if not friends, and the awkward, stunted conversation that followed.
"Why are we still fighting?"
"I... I don't know."
After that, every time Yamapi had made a fool of himself, he saw Kame's eyes - if not always his mouth - laughing at him. He remembers how fond he'd become of Kame in such a short amount of time, how he'd finally seen through the childish grudge and found why Jin liked him so much. That smile had become something he strived to see every day, and Yamapi remembers vividly when it had begun to wilt around the edges.
He might not have been the most observant person, but even he could see the prominent ridges in Kame's spine threatening to break through the skin when he changed after a long day of shooting, and Yamapi remembers the satisfaction he'd felt one lunchtime when Kame took the food he was holding out from between his chopsticks. His mother never argued when he asked for extra food in his bento, and Kame never fought when he brought too many pastries to eat all by himself.
He didn't keep the weight on for long though. Yamapi remembers the worry and guilt on Kame's face the day they'd shared the news of their impending debut as a duo, and the realisation that the look he saw in Jin's eyes could mirror what he'd seen in Kame's all those years before hit him straight in the gut.
"It's fine, you can't control the management," Jin told them, but they both knew he was just trying to be nice. All this time, he's wanted them to get along, and now that they finally were, Yamapi could tell the tiny, selfish part of Jin wanted things back the way they were.
After that, it had only gotten worse.
"I know you were only going to be a temporary unit, but your success is undeniable," Johnny told them one gloomy afternoon. "How would you feel about Shuji to Akira being permanent?" It might have been posed as a question, but Yamapi had been offered enough work by this man that he knew what required thought and what just required him to say 'yes'.
The dark thunderclouds outside seemed perfectly apt given the sudden plummeting of his heart, but like the professional he was, he had nodded and smiled and promised to work hard. One look at Kame told him the other man was just as dubious as he was, but he too voiced his polite agreement and they were excused.
"Yamashita-kun," Kame murmured once they'd turned down an empty corridor. It still hurt that he refused to call him Yamapi like everyone else.
"Mm?"
"It'll be okay. It's not like he's making us leave our groups, right?" Kame's voice sounded uneven, almost as if even as he was speaking, he was willing himself to believe it just as much as he was trying to convince Yamapi of its truth.
Yamapi swallowed, the sound unnaturally loud in the deserted corridor, then nodded. "Right. Ryo-chan's in two groups, and he manages. This isn't as bad as that at all, this is just like... like a side project."
"Exactly," Kame said firmly, and that was that.
-
For a while, everything was great. Both Yamapi and Kame landed drama after drama, standing in the spotlight alone now instead of sharing a dual lead, and their second single - a gentle ballad simply titled Our Destiny - shot to the top of the charts. Their first album, Unmei no Kizuna, and subsequent tour received just as excited a response.
Yamapi remembers it all, the happy memories and the painful ones. He remembers the elation in Kame's face that day in March, eyes sparkling with excitement at what his group had been denied for so long. He remembers his own members coming and going, the tears that came with their disbanding and the laughter that carried them through one final New Year's performance together. He remembers the night Kame had come to him looking utterly desolate, and Yamapi had taken that step forward, wrapping him up in his embrace without question because they both knew Jin was leaving.
That must have been when it all started. Through everything, Kame was always there when he needed someone, even when he didn't know he needed someone. Part of it may have been that they were together for work a lot of the time, but most of it was definitely Kame simply knowing when to be around like an acute sixth sense. Over the years, two men who could just as easily have grown up filled with resentment for each other had become firm friends, closer than Yamapi would ever have imagined, and if he's honest with himself, it didn't end there. Kamenashi had become Kame had become Kazuya, and animosity had morphed into acceptance and friendship and something deeper than all that. Something he'd never pursued before but something that was there all the same, a warmth and affection that went beyond the boundaries of simple friendship.
Yamapi had skipped over the moral dilemma and internal angst that seemed inevitable when questioning one's sexuality - one-hundred-percent straight just wasn't something it was possible to be in the industry, especially not when you worked for Johnny's, and he wasn't really one for over-the-top emotions like that anyway. But just because he hadn't freaked out about it doesn't mean it was that easy to clue Kame in to the direction his feelings had taken.
He wasn't in any hurry though. Things were comfortable like this, coffee and take-out and nights curled up at either end of the sofa with beer or wine or juice, if they had work the next day. Sometimes friends would join them, sometimes not, but the atmosphere between them was always the same; quiet, comfortable, without a need to try and do or be anything they didn't want.
Tonight was just one such night, but instead of feeling relaxed Yamapi couldn't help but remember the evening Jin left all over again, when Kame had done away with any pretences for the first time, taken great handfuls of Yamapi's shirt and finally showed the terrifying, heart-crushing fear that they'd never see him again. Now, Kame was staring at the screen, light flickering in his eyes and across his face, but he wasn't seeing anything. Yamapi had known something was wrong the moment Kame turned up unannounced, but Kame would speak when he was ready and not a moment before.
"He's going to split us up," Kame murmured, and Yamapi only caught it because they'd been doing this for years. 'Us,' he'd said, but he didn't mean them.
His first instinct was to deny it, to tell Kame he was imagining things and that Johnny had already disbanded one group from their generation, he certainly wouldn't be stupid enough to do it again. But they'd both been in this business long enough to know that that was exactly what would happen if the old man - always planning ahead and looking far into the future - thought it would bring in more revenue.
Finally, he settled for a soft, questioning hum.
"He thinks we haven't noticed. He thinks that by giving us more work, we'll ignore the whispers."
Yamapi had heard the whispers, the speculation, the doubts, and he'd heard enough of them in the past to know you never, ever ignored them, not even the gossip rags. Even if there was little truth behind them - Kame is far too placid and giggly when drunk to so much as raise his voice to anyone, let alone a fist, and Jin's too oblivious to the people around him outside of his immediate group to be purposefully rude to anyone - there was always a reason for them. Johnny never let out anything he didn't want to see, didn't think would be beneficial to his acts in some way, and Yamapi knew that a few weeks before they announced his latest movie role, a small internet blog would surface claiming to have seen him on a private-looking date, which would soon be all over the newspapers. Maybe he'd even get pictures this time.
There was never anything coincidental, not in their line of work. And when the rumours were circling inside the Jimusho, well.
"What do you think he's going to do?" Yamapi asked, and saw Kame's shoulders slump. His arm itched to reach out to him, and Yamapi wondered why he was ignoring it long enough for Kame to lean back against the cushions. Yamapi tugged on Kame's hand once, and the other man shifted to rest his cheek on Yamapi's shoulder. Kame felt much smaller than Yamapi remembered, like he'd been losing weight again.
"He's building up the group's popularity. Tat-chan and Jin have their solo gigs, and Koki's meeting with a movie producer next week. R-One is being moved into a prime time spot, Taguchi's just been offered a lead drama role, and you and me, we've got our album and your movie."
Yamapi could already see where this was heading, and he tightened his hold, pressing his nose to Kame's hair.
"He's going to cut us out, Tomo," Kame whispered, and Yamapi's heart skipped a beat in spite of it all, because all this time, he'd always been 'Yamashita-kun'. "He's going to take out the K and the A, maybe they'll get one last single, then that'll be it."
Yamapi remembered the confusion and sense of loss he'd felt when they were told NEWS wasn't going to be coming back, and that was a group he'd only just learned to love, not six men who'd overcome every obstacle in their path and become more like brothers than colleagues.
It felt natural to press his lips to Kame's forehead in some semblance of comfort, and Yamapi was sure he heard Kame sigh softly in response.
-
Things progressed slowly between them after that. Neither of them mentioned the way Kame had fallen asleep in Yamapi's embrace to the rhythmic glide of the other man's fingers through his hair, but it was clear that some kind of barrier had been taken down between them, because they sat that little bit closer, talked that little bit softer, and when Kame caught Yamapi watching him now, instead of them both looking quickly away, Kame would hold his gaze for a moment and smile. They didn't talk about the increased frequency of the evenings they spent together nor the way both of them invariably fall asleep next to - or on top of - one another on the sofa. More often than not it was Kame's head on Yamapi's shoulder or in his lap, but Yamapi certainly wasn't about to complain. Especially not when sometimes, just before he fell asleep, Kame would talk to him, voice a soft, gentle murmur of sound, and sometimes, just sometimes, he'd slip up and in place of 'Yamashita-kun', it would be 'Tomo'.
Against his better judgement, they'd celebrated Kame's 24th birthday the day after the main event with an expensive, potent wine his parents had brought back from France, and Yamapi was reminded of just how much better he was at holding his alcohol than Kame. It's no secret that Kame's an affectionate drunk, but it had never gone further than him lounging across Yamapi's shoulders in the past. Now though, that kind of closeness was almost commonplace for the two of them, and with his inhibitions down Kame was much more talkative than usual to boot.
"You're really handsome," he said with a lazy smile, and Yamapi felt his cheeks flush at the compliment. It was something he heard often, but coming from Kame, even the simplest thing sounded different.
Yamapi didn't reply, but it was okay because Kame was still talking.
"You're so pretty," he said, leaning in to peer at Yamapi's face, and the back of the sofa gave Yamapi a reason for not backing up, "But you still look manly, too. I wish I had a face as nice as yours."
"You do!" Yamapi said, a little too quickly, and he couldn't tell if it was only the alcohol turning Kame's face red.
"I'm too bony to be attractive," Kame said like it was fact, "and my nose is stupid."
"I like your nose..." Yamapi said softly, and Kame smiled and fell silent, flopping to one side to let his head loll on Yamapi's bicep.
"You're so nice to me." Kame didn't say anything after that for a long time, but just as Yamapi was about to reach over for the blanket draped across the back of the sofa, assuming Kame had fallen asleep, he spoke up again.
"Girls always say my lips are too thin and my hands are too cold." Kame's voice was suddenly quiet, fragile almost, making Yamapi want to wrap him up and protect him from the world. Anyone else might have been unnerved by such feelings, but Yamapi had long since gotten over the fact that this wasn't the way normal friends behaved.
"What do they know," he said pointedly, and wasn't a question. Kame looked up at him, a tiny smile playing around the corners of his mouth.
"I bet they'd like yours more," Kame said, "They look so soft..."
Yamapi's heart threatened to beat its way right out of his chest as Kame shifted closer, almost up onto his knees to reach up and press two fingertips to Yamapi's mouth, and Yamapi was unable to stop his lips pursing all on their own in a ghost of a kiss against the warm pads.
Something flickered in Kame's eyes then, through the alcohol and the mirth and the sleep, and as he drew his hand away, Yamapi couldn't help but follow. Then Kame was leaning in closer too, and if Yamapi's heart had been pounding before, now it had stopped completely. The devil on his shoulder was telling him to kiss him, kiss him, while the angel on the other side was saying don't, you can't, not when he's drunk. But Yamapi was tired of waiting, tired of imagining and dreaming and wondering, tired of the maybe-they-are, maybe-they-aren't thing there was between them, and he closed that final few inches.
Just before he could press his mouth to Kame's, the other man stopped abruptly and blinked once, twice. Yamapi paused, and didn't think he'd ever be a good enough actor to keep the disappointment from his eyes when Kame moved away and, eventually, fell asleep in his lap.
-
The day Kame had been dreading came far sooner than either of them had anticipated. They'd just finished their tour as a duo - including three sold out nights at Tokyo Dome - and were enjoying a long awaited day off in each other's company when the call came, and when Kame returned four hours later, all trace of the tired satisfaction they'd shared had gone.
"That's it," he said the moment Yamapi let him in, and that was all he needed to say. Yamapi was glad Jin hadn't pushed to come too - he wasn't sure he'd be comfortable enough to comfort Kame the way he needed if that had happened.
There was no preamble this time, no entertainment or nourishment paving the way to relaxation, just Yamapi's arms wrapped around Kame's body, Yamapi's fingers curled around Kame's shoulder, Yamapi's mouth pressed to Kame's hair.
They didn't speak - didn't need to - and Yamapi just gently guided Kame around the coffee table and down onto the sofa, where they inevitably ended up most evenings anyway. He remembered the fragility in Kame's voice that night, the innocence and poorly-concealed hurt, but thought that he'd take that any day over this. He felt so helpless, only able to be a pillar of questionable strength whilst everything Kame had spent the past ten years of his life working for collapsed around him and left him surrounded by the debris of his efforts.
There was no anger, no frustration, no tears, but Yamapi could feel it all in the desperation in Kame's hands, clutching onto fistfuls of his shirt like if he could hold on tight enough, his strength alone would repair the broken bonds that once held his group together.
"It'll be okay, you know," Yamapi said eventually, and after a moment he felt Kame nod against his chest, "After all, you've always got Shuji to Akira, and no-one could be more awesome than them."
Kame laughed softly, and thought it wasn't as energetic as he was used to, there was still heart in it. Yamapi took that as a point to him.
"Yeah," Kame replied softly, "I guess so, huh?"
Yamapi remembers the way Kame's eyes had sparkled when he'd lifted his head, a stunning combination of such a spectrum of emotion that it was impossible to pick out any one thing; sadness, amusement, loneliness, affection, it was all there, all pooling in one place and tugging Yamapi's heart into his throat.
He remembers swallowing hard, painfully so, and nodding. "Let's show them what we've got."
Kame's smile was wider that time and the skin at the corners of his eyes crinkled. He was close, so close, and Yamapi remembers the unbearable pull of those eyes, of that smile on that mouth. He'd hesitated, worried that Kame would leave him hanging and feeling stupid again but this time Kame was moving towards him and he was powerless to resist.
Yamapi remembers how Kame's weight had felt shifting across his lap, the subtle shift of balance, how his hands had flattened against his chest and finally, finally, the way Kame's mouth had touched his. It was careful, cautious, and so gentle, but Yamapi remembers the way it had swept him up as if he were still there, reliving it all over again.
He remembers the way Kame had sighed out against his mouth when Yamapi had kissed him back, one hand sliding through Kame's hair to hold him properly. He remembers thinking that it had taken them five years to get to this, five years of literal blood, sweat and tears, of arguments and apologies and eventually, tentative hugs to get them to this point. And every moment of it had been so, so worth it.
Yeah, Yamapi thinks fondly as he turns onto his side beneath the covers, and Kame automatically curls closer as Yamapi pulls the other man's sleeping body nearer to his own; he remembers Kame.
And now, they've got all the time in the world to make new memories, to have new experiences for them both to remember together. For them to never forget.
Poll Team What If