Prompt 7: Today your heart, tomorrow the world - Team Future
Title: Stormy Weather
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Akame
Summary: It’s been almost ten years since his face was plastered on every magazine in Japan. He’s just a name here now. Someone once famous, but now only vaguely remembered, face a fuzzy outline, faded and obscured by time.
Prompt: Today your heart, tomorrow the world
Warnings: Just some language.
Notes: Title borrowed from an old jazz song by Ethel Waters
When Jin gets off the plane at Narita Airport, it’s to relative silence. No horde of fans, no reporters, no flashing cameras, no obnoxious news casters shoving microphones in his face. Nothing. Just some salarymen trying to brush the wrinkles out of their suits and a woman pushing a baby stroller.
Jin pulls the hood of his jacket farther down over his head. Just in case, he thinks. But part of him knows there isn’t really much of a point anymore. It’s been almost ten years since his face was plastered on every magazine in Japan. He’s just a name here now. Someone once famous, but now only vaguely remembered, face a fuzzy outline, faded and obscured by time. Jin tries not to let the thought bother him, but it does anyway.
“Hey, Jin. Over here.”
He turns toward the soft call and catches sight of Yamapi. At least, he thinks it’s Yamapi. It’s a little hard to tell what with the dark hat, over-sized sunglasses, and surgical mask covering the lower half of his face. He’s standing in a corner next to the public pay phones, trying not to draw too much attention to himself. Jin thinks he looks ridiculous, but then again maybe Jin’s just in a bad mood. He hates flying into Tokyo.
Yamapi pushes himself away from the wall and strolls casually over to Jin.
“Hey, man,” he says, clapping Jin on the back, “Good to see you again. It’s been forever.”
“I’d say it’s good to see you too, but that would require actually being able to see you,” Jin replies.
Yamapi fiddles a little bit with his hat and shrugs, “Can’t be too careful. My manager would throw a fit if he knew I was here.”
Jin doesn’t respond. Just starts walking toward baggage claim and a second later he hears Yamapi fall into step next to him.
“Good flight?” Yamapi asks.
Jin grunts noncommittally.
“Still quite the conversationalist I see.”
“How’s this for conversation? Fuck you.”
“You better be careful,” Yamapi says teasingly, “I’m your ride, you know.”
Jin rolls his eyes and thinks he probably shouldn’t have come.
***
By the time he’s gotten his bags and they’ve made it to Yamapi’s car, Jin is on the verge of turning right back around and taking the next available flight out of Tokyo. Anything to get away from his annoying, soon-to-be-ex best friend, who keeps going on and on about how great his band’s been doing and about some ‘member-ai’ bullshit.
“Oh wait,” Yamapi says as he pulls out of the parking lot and onto the main road, “I have something for you. It’s a present.”
Yamapi opens the armrest console, pulls out a CD, and hands it to Jin.
“What the hell is this?” Jin asks, curling his lip in disgust as he looks at the CD.
“It’s a compilation album,” Yamapi replies gleefully, “I made it for you. It has every single NEWS has released since the last time you were here.”
Jin’s fingers tighten around the disc until he’s only a hair’s breadth from snapping the damn thing in half.
“Isn’t it great?” Yamapi exclaims, probably mistaking Jin’s silence for gratitude, “It’s almost like you’ve never been gone, huh? Plus now you can take it with you wherever you go so you won’t miss me!”
Without a word, Jin rolls down the window and tosses the CD out onto the street.
“Thanks,” he says, “I do feel kind of better now.”
Pi gapes at him, mouth opening and closing repeatedly.
“I spent at least ten whole minutes making you that,” Yamapi whines.
“Pi,” Jin sighs, “Just do me a favor and shut up until we get to my hotel.”
The car falls blessedly silent, and Jin stares moodily out the window.
“If you hate it so much, why did you even come here?” Yamapi asks several minutes later.
“Mom’s been bugging me to come visit,” Jin lies, “I won’t have much time starting tomorrow, so I figured I’d fly in to see her, just for a day.”
“Oh yeah,” Yamapi remarks, “I heard you have an international concert series that starts tomorrow? Congratulations.”
Jin nods in recognition, but he feels like yelling that it’s nothing to be excited over. Just some small, dingy bars in various little towns. Just shitty sound systems and crowds too drunk to really pay attention to the music. Just cheap motels and even cheaper beer. Nothing at all like a dome full of people calling his name, or feeling the spotlights burn into his skin.
Yamapi looks over at him, following his gaze out the window and up at the grey, cloudy sky.
“That’s some ugly looking weather,” Yamapi says, “You’re lucky you even made it in. Hope your flight tomorrow doesn’t get canceled.”
Jin shakes his head, “Nah. It’ll hold off.”
“You sure?”
Jin is. He’s sure because it has to hold off. He absolutely refuses to be stuck here any longer than he has to be.
A few more minutes of silence, and then they’re stopped at a red light and Yamapi turns to looks at him with a slight frown.
“Look Jin,” he says, “I know you didn’t fly in to visit your mom, and I know you didn’t fly in to spend one night in a hotel room and then leave again tomorrow.”
Jin opens his mouth to protest, but Yamapi doesn’t let him.
“I don’t need to know why you came. Honestly, I’m pretty sure I’ve got it figured out. But the point is you should do it, whatever it is, instead of being grumpy and staring out the window. You’ve only got today and god only knows how long it’ll be before you work up the nerve to drag your ass back here.”
Jin knows Pi’s right. Knows he was probably going to chicken out and spend the night watching cheap porn in his hotel rom. Knows he would have left the next morning feeling even more pissed off than he is now.
“Pi?” he asks, “Would it be okay if I borrowed your car for today?”
The light changes to green, and Pi turns back to the road, but Jin can see the faint smile on his face.
“You better bring it back in one piece.”
***
Jin pulls up in front of the address Yamapi gave him and looks at the house. It’s nice; small, tucked in neatly on a back street in one of the less crowded districts of Tokyo. It’s pretty much exactly what Jin expected. There’s a flash somewhere in the back of his memory and he thinks of silly wishes and empty promises from years and years ago.
He pulls out his cell phone and punches in the number Yamapi scrawled on the slip of paper under the address, and, even though he tells himself it’s stupid, he holds his breath as he listens to the rings. One. What if no one answers? Two. What if someone does answer? Three. He should just hang up right now. Just as his thumb moves to the cancel button, he hears a click and then a voice that’s different from what he remembers and yet somehow exactly the same too.
“Hello?” the voice says.
“Hi,” Jin whispers back.
“Who is this?”
“Come outside,” Jin says.
“What?”
“Come outside,” he repeats.
“Who is this? Who’s calling? Do you have the wrong number?”
“Come outside and find out,” Jin says, only this time louder, more sure.
A pause. Jin can practically hear the silence forcing its way through the phone line. And then:
“Akanishi? Jin, is that you?”
“I’m still waiting for you to come outside.”
“What the…are you…” a rustling of fabric and Jin sees the curtain on the lower right window move, “Oh my god, you are. Are you insane? What are you doing here? When the hell did you even get here?”
“I’m not going to say it again,” Jin sighs impatiently, “Come outside and we’ll talk.”
A disgruntled huff, and then the line goes dead. Jin focuses intently on the door, willing it to open, but even he’s surprised when it actually does. And there’s Kame, pulling on a sweater, pausing at the door, sliding the keys into his back pocket, walking to the car, locking eyes with Jin for the first time in ten years.
“What the hell, Jin?” Kame says, clearly annoyed, “Why are you here? How did you even know where here is for that matter?”
“Pi,” Jin answers.
Kame rolls his eyes, “Of course,” then he fixes Jin with another look, this time piercing, as though he trying to read Jin’s every thought, “I never expected to one day walk out my door and find you parked in front of it. At least that’s one thing that hasn’t changed. You still do whatever the hell you want whenever the hell you want to.”
Jin leans over and opens the passenger door.
“Get in,” he says, “We’re going for lunch.”
Kame glances back at his house, looks like he might argue for a second, but he gets in anyway.
“Not like I have much of a choice,” he mutters, and Jin smirks.
“Udon alright?” Jin asks, but he’s already driving away, “Food is just about the only thing I miss from this place.”
Kame snorts like it’s a joke, but Jin can see his mouth pulled into a tight line. Almost as quickly, it’s gone and Kame’s looking at him with that same old look, like he’s babysitting a particularly needy toddler.
“Udon’s fine,” he agrees, and they don’t say anything else for the rest of the car ride.
***
Jin parks the car about a block down from the restaurant. Overhead the sky seems to have darkened even more.
“I hope it doesn’t rain,” Kame says, looking up and frowning, “I left my umbrella at home.”
“Don’t worry,” Jin says as he uncharacteristically holds the door open for Kame, “It’ll hold off.”
Kame looks skeptical, though whether about the rain or the door Jin isn’t sure.
“Since when do you hold doors open for people?” Kame teases, but he goes inside, sitting down at a secluded table in the back corner of the room.
The waitress comes over to take their orders, but gets sidetracked when she notices who exactly is sitting at the table.
“Ah! You’re Kamenashi,” she exclaims, dropping her pen and pad of paper, “I see you on TV all the time. I’m a big fan!”
To his credit, Kame handles the situation with dignity and charm. He politely refuses a picture, but he does sign one of the restaurant’s menus for her. Finally she takes their order, scurrying back behind the counter, whispering to the woman working the register and pointing at them.
“Sorry about that,” Kame says.
“Don’t worry about it,” Jin replies easily, but under the table his hands are clenched into fists.
Kame arches an eyebrow at him, and suddenly Jin wonders if Kame can still read him as well as he used to before. It used to be impossible to hide anything from Kame. The downturned lilt of Kame’s mouth says that it probably still is impossible.
“How’s work?” Kame asks.
“Fine,” Jin replies, so quick it’s obvious he’s lying.
“There hasn’t been much news about you lately, but I’ve gotten bits and pieces, mostly from Yamapi,” Kame continues (obviously he isn’t letting this subject go), “Something about a world tour?”
“Yeah,” Jin mutters.
“It starts tomorrow right?” Kame asks, even though he clearly already knows.
“Yeah. So?”
“So,” Kame says with emphasis, as though speaking to a child, “What are you doing? Here, I mean.”
Jin fumbles around for something: a lie, an excuse, the truth. But nothing comes, because, honestly, even Jin doesn’t know what he’s doing here, having lunch with Kame after ten whole years of trying to pretend he never existed.
Fortunately, the waitress chooses that moment to bring them their food. She places the bowls down with a thump, giggles a bit at Kame, then retreats again behind the counter to gossip with her co-worker.
“How about you?” Jin asks before Kame has a chance to start in on him again, “What are you up to?”
“Oh you know,” Kame says, making a vague gesture with his hand, “Just doing our own things. Nakamaru still does a bunch of emceeing. Koki and Ueda have been working on some solo stuff. Junno finally found a woman who actually finds his jokes funny. Should have married her on the spot if you ask me.”
“I was asking about you, actually. Just you,” Jin replies.
“Oh,” Kame starts and looks down at his noodles, “I’m…fine. I’m doing my own thing too.”
Jin thinks that it’s so very Kame to go on about KAT-TUN when Jin was only asking about him. That’s Kame, he thinks, so in love with the band, with his job. Jin feels just the tiniest fluttering of guilt in his stomach, but he quashes it down hard. He’s learned by now that it’s pointless to feel guilty.
“I am, however, fascinated that anyone could find Junno funny,” Jin says, because Kame still hasn’t looked up from his food, “And you’re sure she isn’t imaginary?”
That has Kame giggling and then laughing outright, even though it really wasn’t that funny. And that, that smile, that laugh, takes Jin aback. It’s familiar, so fucking familiar that it almost hurts. Suddenly, he remembers things, things he promised himself he wouldn’t think about anymore. Pillow fights and broken dishes; dark hair strewn across the pillow and warm sleepy grins; arguments and slamming doors and Kame, everywhere and anywhere; and now, after ten years, here, in front of him, laughing at Jin’s lame ass joke like it’s the funniest thing in the god damn world.
Jin stares hard at the table because if he looks up he’ll remember more and he doesn’t want to, or maybe doesn’t want to want to. Kame’s laughter trails off and their table lulls into a precarious silence, somewhere between comfortable and awkward. Finally, Jin looks Kame straight in the eye and asks him a question, and he realizes, suddenly, that it’s the reason he came to Tokyo and why he drove to Kame’s house and why he’s been feeling so on edge: the answer to this one simple question.
“Kame, are you still mad at me?”
The question doesn’t take Kame by surprise. It’s like he’s been expecting it all afternoon, which he probably has, because Kame has always known Jin way too well.
Kame thinks, and he thinks for a long time. The minutes seem to drag on forever as he sits there, drawing random patterns on the table top and biting his lip (Jin forces down the swell of memories that habit draws up).
“No,” Kame finally says, slowly, controlled, “I was. For a long time. I was so mad I wanted to rip your face off every magazine I saw. But somewhere along the line, I guess I figured there wasn’t much of a point. Not anymore.”
Jin nods, but he doesn’t know how he feels about that answer. Some part of him wants Kame to be angry, wants him to slam his fist on the table and yell and throw things like he did when Jin first told him he was leaving. At least that’s familiar.
“Sometimes,” Kame starts, then pauses like he’s trying to figure out the right words, “Sometimes people just grow apart. But sometimes, people explode apart. Either way, we wouldn’t have lasted. We wanted different things. I wanted stability. You wanted the world. We just couldn’t give each other those things.”
“I guess,” Jin replies, then he takes a deep breath and says what he’s been thinking for awhile, maybe for ten years, “But don’t you ever wonder? Like what if?”
Kame looks at him with a wry grin.
“Was it worth it for you?” he asks, “Was it worth it to give up your career here just to end up playing bars and cramped concert halls? Was it worth it for whatever independence you got? Was it worth everything you had to leave behind?”
Jin isn’t sure what he’s most surprised by: the question, or how much Kame knows about his life, or how quickly he answers.
“Yes,” he says, without even a moment’s hesitation, and it’s true too.
“Then there’s your answer.”
***
Jin drives Kame back to his house in renewed silence. He pulls up in front of Kame’s house, still small, still nice, only now there’s a bike chained to the fence out front and a baseball lying forlorn next to the door.
“This was nice, surprisingly,” Kame says, unbuckling his seatbelt but making no move to get out of the car.
“Yeah,” Jin replies.
“Good luck tomorrow,” Kame smiles, “If you have a concert in Japan again, maybe I’ll go.”
“That’d be cool.”
“Now that you’ve got my number you should call sometime.”
Jin nods, but he already knows he’ll forget, maybe on purpose.
Finally, Kame opens the door and climbs out of the car.
“It was good to see you, Jin,” he says, peering through the rolled down window.
He’s looking at Jin like he’s waiting for something. Jin’s mind races trying to think of what. Should he do something? Say something? Jin reaches desperately for words, the right words, words that will fix everything, or at least make Kame stop looking at him like that.
But Jin’s never been one for words, and next thing he know Kame’s turned around and started back to the house. Halfway up the walk the door bursts open and out runs a young boy, maybe 5. The kid hurtles straight at Kame shouting “Daddy, Daddy, play ball with me!” Kame scoops him up and Jin can see the smile painted across Kame’s face as a pretty woman comes into the open doorway.
“You can play ball later,” she scolds, but there’s no harshness in her tone, “I know you have homework to do before dinner.”
Kame sets the boy (his son, Jin forces himself to admit) down, and he pouts all the way up the steps, past his mother and into the house. The woman rolls her eyes, but she’s grinning, and she too turns to go back in. Finally, there’s just Kame left outside, still smiling like crazy.
Only, Jin notices, it’s a different smile. One he’s never seen before. It’s nice and carefree and full, and Jin suddenly hates it because it doesn’t belong to him. Jin waits for Kame to turn around, to wave goodbye, to fix him with that familiar old smile, but he never does. He climbs the front steps and enters the house without so much as a backward glance.
It makes Jin just a little bit jealous. Not of the wife or the kid, because he’d always known Kame would get married to a nice woman one day and have nice kids. He’s jealous of the way Kame can be so comfortable with the past, of the way Kame makes his decisions with certainty, without regret. Jin’s always been impulsive, and by the time he stops to think about what he’s done, it’s too late to undo it.
Jin sits there in Yamapi’s car for a long time, just staring at the house, at the bike, at the baseball, at the door, at what could have maybe possibly been his life, but now that possibility is too far away to even consider.
‘Was it worth it?’ he asks himself, but the answer is still ‘yes.’
And Jin doesn’t know quite what to do with that.
Overhead, the storm finally breaks, and it starts to rain.
END
Poll Team Future
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Akame
Summary: It’s been almost ten years since his face was plastered on every magazine in Japan. He’s just a name here now. Someone once famous, but now only vaguely remembered, face a fuzzy outline, faded and obscured by time.
Prompt: Today your heart, tomorrow the world
Warnings: Just some language.
Notes: Title borrowed from an old jazz song by Ethel Waters
When Jin gets off the plane at Narita Airport, it’s to relative silence. No horde of fans, no reporters, no flashing cameras, no obnoxious news casters shoving microphones in his face. Nothing. Just some salarymen trying to brush the wrinkles out of their suits and a woman pushing a baby stroller.
Jin pulls the hood of his jacket farther down over his head. Just in case, he thinks. But part of him knows there isn’t really much of a point anymore. It’s been almost ten years since his face was plastered on every magazine in Japan. He’s just a name here now. Someone once famous, but now only vaguely remembered, face a fuzzy outline, faded and obscured by time. Jin tries not to let the thought bother him, but it does anyway.
“Hey, Jin. Over here.”
He turns toward the soft call and catches sight of Yamapi. At least, he thinks it’s Yamapi. It’s a little hard to tell what with the dark hat, over-sized sunglasses, and surgical mask covering the lower half of his face. He’s standing in a corner next to the public pay phones, trying not to draw too much attention to himself. Jin thinks he looks ridiculous, but then again maybe Jin’s just in a bad mood. He hates flying into Tokyo.
Yamapi pushes himself away from the wall and strolls casually over to Jin.
“Hey, man,” he says, clapping Jin on the back, “Good to see you again. It’s been forever.”
“I’d say it’s good to see you too, but that would require actually being able to see you,” Jin replies.
Yamapi fiddles a little bit with his hat and shrugs, “Can’t be too careful. My manager would throw a fit if he knew I was here.”
Jin doesn’t respond. Just starts walking toward baggage claim and a second later he hears Yamapi fall into step next to him.
“Good flight?” Yamapi asks.
Jin grunts noncommittally.
“Still quite the conversationalist I see.”
“How’s this for conversation? Fuck you.”
“You better be careful,” Yamapi says teasingly, “I’m your ride, you know.”
Jin rolls his eyes and thinks he probably shouldn’t have come.
***
By the time he’s gotten his bags and they’ve made it to Yamapi’s car, Jin is on the verge of turning right back around and taking the next available flight out of Tokyo. Anything to get away from his annoying, soon-to-be-ex best friend, who keeps going on and on about how great his band’s been doing and about some ‘member-ai’ bullshit.
“Oh wait,” Yamapi says as he pulls out of the parking lot and onto the main road, “I have something for you. It’s a present.”
Yamapi opens the armrest console, pulls out a CD, and hands it to Jin.
“What the hell is this?” Jin asks, curling his lip in disgust as he looks at the CD.
“It’s a compilation album,” Yamapi replies gleefully, “I made it for you. It has every single NEWS has released since the last time you were here.”
Jin’s fingers tighten around the disc until he’s only a hair’s breadth from snapping the damn thing in half.
“Isn’t it great?” Yamapi exclaims, probably mistaking Jin’s silence for gratitude, “It’s almost like you’ve never been gone, huh? Plus now you can take it with you wherever you go so you won’t miss me!”
Without a word, Jin rolls down the window and tosses the CD out onto the street.
“Thanks,” he says, “I do feel kind of better now.”
Pi gapes at him, mouth opening and closing repeatedly.
“I spent at least ten whole minutes making you that,” Yamapi whines.
“Pi,” Jin sighs, “Just do me a favor and shut up until we get to my hotel.”
The car falls blessedly silent, and Jin stares moodily out the window.
“If you hate it so much, why did you even come here?” Yamapi asks several minutes later.
“Mom’s been bugging me to come visit,” Jin lies, “I won’t have much time starting tomorrow, so I figured I’d fly in to see her, just for a day.”
“Oh yeah,” Yamapi remarks, “I heard you have an international concert series that starts tomorrow? Congratulations.”
Jin nods in recognition, but he feels like yelling that it’s nothing to be excited over. Just some small, dingy bars in various little towns. Just shitty sound systems and crowds too drunk to really pay attention to the music. Just cheap motels and even cheaper beer. Nothing at all like a dome full of people calling his name, or feeling the spotlights burn into his skin.
Yamapi looks over at him, following his gaze out the window and up at the grey, cloudy sky.
“That’s some ugly looking weather,” Yamapi says, “You’re lucky you even made it in. Hope your flight tomorrow doesn’t get canceled.”
Jin shakes his head, “Nah. It’ll hold off.”
“You sure?”
Jin is. He’s sure because it has to hold off. He absolutely refuses to be stuck here any longer than he has to be.
A few more minutes of silence, and then they’re stopped at a red light and Yamapi turns to looks at him with a slight frown.
“Look Jin,” he says, “I know you didn’t fly in to visit your mom, and I know you didn’t fly in to spend one night in a hotel room and then leave again tomorrow.”
Jin opens his mouth to protest, but Yamapi doesn’t let him.
“I don’t need to know why you came. Honestly, I’m pretty sure I’ve got it figured out. But the point is you should do it, whatever it is, instead of being grumpy and staring out the window. You’ve only got today and god only knows how long it’ll be before you work up the nerve to drag your ass back here.”
Jin knows Pi’s right. Knows he was probably going to chicken out and spend the night watching cheap porn in his hotel rom. Knows he would have left the next morning feeling even more pissed off than he is now.
“Pi?” he asks, “Would it be okay if I borrowed your car for today?”
The light changes to green, and Pi turns back to the road, but Jin can see the faint smile on his face.
“You better bring it back in one piece.”
***
Jin pulls up in front of the address Yamapi gave him and looks at the house. It’s nice; small, tucked in neatly on a back street in one of the less crowded districts of Tokyo. It’s pretty much exactly what Jin expected. There’s a flash somewhere in the back of his memory and he thinks of silly wishes and empty promises from years and years ago.
He pulls out his cell phone and punches in the number Yamapi scrawled on the slip of paper under the address, and, even though he tells himself it’s stupid, he holds his breath as he listens to the rings. One. What if no one answers? Two. What if someone does answer? Three. He should just hang up right now. Just as his thumb moves to the cancel button, he hears a click and then a voice that’s different from what he remembers and yet somehow exactly the same too.
“Hello?” the voice says.
“Hi,” Jin whispers back.
“Who is this?”
“Come outside,” Jin says.
“What?”
“Come outside,” he repeats.
“Who is this? Who’s calling? Do you have the wrong number?”
“Come outside and find out,” Jin says, only this time louder, more sure.
A pause. Jin can practically hear the silence forcing its way through the phone line. And then:
“Akanishi? Jin, is that you?”
“I’m still waiting for you to come outside.”
“What the…are you…” a rustling of fabric and Jin sees the curtain on the lower right window move, “Oh my god, you are. Are you insane? What are you doing here? When the hell did you even get here?”
“I’m not going to say it again,” Jin sighs impatiently, “Come outside and we’ll talk.”
A disgruntled huff, and then the line goes dead. Jin focuses intently on the door, willing it to open, but even he’s surprised when it actually does. And there’s Kame, pulling on a sweater, pausing at the door, sliding the keys into his back pocket, walking to the car, locking eyes with Jin for the first time in ten years.
“What the hell, Jin?” Kame says, clearly annoyed, “Why are you here? How did you even know where here is for that matter?”
“Pi,” Jin answers.
Kame rolls his eyes, “Of course,” then he fixes Jin with another look, this time piercing, as though he trying to read Jin’s every thought, “I never expected to one day walk out my door and find you parked in front of it. At least that’s one thing that hasn’t changed. You still do whatever the hell you want whenever the hell you want to.”
Jin leans over and opens the passenger door.
“Get in,” he says, “We’re going for lunch.”
Kame glances back at his house, looks like he might argue for a second, but he gets in anyway.
“Not like I have much of a choice,” he mutters, and Jin smirks.
“Udon alright?” Jin asks, but he’s already driving away, “Food is just about the only thing I miss from this place.”
Kame snorts like it’s a joke, but Jin can see his mouth pulled into a tight line. Almost as quickly, it’s gone and Kame’s looking at him with that same old look, like he’s babysitting a particularly needy toddler.
“Udon’s fine,” he agrees, and they don’t say anything else for the rest of the car ride.
***
Jin parks the car about a block down from the restaurant. Overhead the sky seems to have darkened even more.
“I hope it doesn’t rain,” Kame says, looking up and frowning, “I left my umbrella at home.”
“Don’t worry,” Jin says as he uncharacteristically holds the door open for Kame, “It’ll hold off.”
Kame looks skeptical, though whether about the rain or the door Jin isn’t sure.
“Since when do you hold doors open for people?” Kame teases, but he goes inside, sitting down at a secluded table in the back corner of the room.
The waitress comes over to take their orders, but gets sidetracked when she notices who exactly is sitting at the table.
“Ah! You’re Kamenashi,” she exclaims, dropping her pen and pad of paper, “I see you on TV all the time. I’m a big fan!”
To his credit, Kame handles the situation with dignity and charm. He politely refuses a picture, but he does sign one of the restaurant’s menus for her. Finally she takes their order, scurrying back behind the counter, whispering to the woman working the register and pointing at them.
“Sorry about that,” Kame says.
“Don’t worry about it,” Jin replies easily, but under the table his hands are clenched into fists.
Kame arches an eyebrow at him, and suddenly Jin wonders if Kame can still read him as well as he used to before. It used to be impossible to hide anything from Kame. The downturned lilt of Kame’s mouth says that it probably still is impossible.
“How’s work?” Kame asks.
“Fine,” Jin replies, so quick it’s obvious he’s lying.
“There hasn’t been much news about you lately, but I’ve gotten bits and pieces, mostly from Yamapi,” Kame continues (obviously he isn’t letting this subject go), “Something about a world tour?”
“Yeah,” Jin mutters.
“It starts tomorrow right?” Kame asks, even though he clearly already knows.
“Yeah. So?”
“So,” Kame says with emphasis, as though speaking to a child, “What are you doing? Here, I mean.”
Jin fumbles around for something: a lie, an excuse, the truth. But nothing comes, because, honestly, even Jin doesn’t know what he’s doing here, having lunch with Kame after ten whole years of trying to pretend he never existed.
Fortunately, the waitress chooses that moment to bring them their food. She places the bowls down with a thump, giggles a bit at Kame, then retreats again behind the counter to gossip with her co-worker.
“How about you?” Jin asks before Kame has a chance to start in on him again, “What are you up to?”
“Oh you know,” Kame says, making a vague gesture with his hand, “Just doing our own things. Nakamaru still does a bunch of emceeing. Koki and Ueda have been working on some solo stuff. Junno finally found a woman who actually finds his jokes funny. Should have married her on the spot if you ask me.”
“I was asking about you, actually. Just you,” Jin replies.
“Oh,” Kame starts and looks down at his noodles, “I’m…fine. I’m doing my own thing too.”
Jin thinks that it’s so very Kame to go on about KAT-TUN when Jin was only asking about him. That’s Kame, he thinks, so in love with the band, with his job. Jin feels just the tiniest fluttering of guilt in his stomach, but he quashes it down hard. He’s learned by now that it’s pointless to feel guilty.
“I am, however, fascinated that anyone could find Junno funny,” Jin says, because Kame still hasn’t looked up from his food, “And you’re sure she isn’t imaginary?”
That has Kame giggling and then laughing outright, even though it really wasn’t that funny. And that, that smile, that laugh, takes Jin aback. It’s familiar, so fucking familiar that it almost hurts. Suddenly, he remembers things, things he promised himself he wouldn’t think about anymore. Pillow fights and broken dishes; dark hair strewn across the pillow and warm sleepy grins; arguments and slamming doors and Kame, everywhere and anywhere; and now, after ten years, here, in front of him, laughing at Jin’s lame ass joke like it’s the funniest thing in the god damn world.
Jin stares hard at the table because if he looks up he’ll remember more and he doesn’t want to, or maybe doesn’t want to want to. Kame’s laughter trails off and their table lulls into a precarious silence, somewhere between comfortable and awkward. Finally, Jin looks Kame straight in the eye and asks him a question, and he realizes, suddenly, that it’s the reason he came to Tokyo and why he drove to Kame’s house and why he’s been feeling so on edge: the answer to this one simple question.
“Kame, are you still mad at me?”
The question doesn’t take Kame by surprise. It’s like he’s been expecting it all afternoon, which he probably has, because Kame has always known Jin way too well.
Kame thinks, and he thinks for a long time. The minutes seem to drag on forever as he sits there, drawing random patterns on the table top and biting his lip (Jin forces down the swell of memories that habit draws up).
“No,” Kame finally says, slowly, controlled, “I was. For a long time. I was so mad I wanted to rip your face off every magazine I saw. But somewhere along the line, I guess I figured there wasn’t much of a point. Not anymore.”
Jin nods, but he doesn’t know how he feels about that answer. Some part of him wants Kame to be angry, wants him to slam his fist on the table and yell and throw things like he did when Jin first told him he was leaving. At least that’s familiar.
“Sometimes,” Kame starts, then pauses like he’s trying to figure out the right words, “Sometimes people just grow apart. But sometimes, people explode apart. Either way, we wouldn’t have lasted. We wanted different things. I wanted stability. You wanted the world. We just couldn’t give each other those things.”
“I guess,” Jin replies, then he takes a deep breath and says what he’s been thinking for awhile, maybe for ten years, “But don’t you ever wonder? Like what if?”
Kame looks at him with a wry grin.
“Was it worth it for you?” he asks, “Was it worth it to give up your career here just to end up playing bars and cramped concert halls? Was it worth it for whatever independence you got? Was it worth everything you had to leave behind?”
Jin isn’t sure what he’s most surprised by: the question, or how much Kame knows about his life, or how quickly he answers.
“Yes,” he says, without even a moment’s hesitation, and it’s true too.
“Then there’s your answer.”
***
Jin drives Kame back to his house in renewed silence. He pulls up in front of Kame’s house, still small, still nice, only now there’s a bike chained to the fence out front and a baseball lying forlorn next to the door.
“This was nice, surprisingly,” Kame says, unbuckling his seatbelt but making no move to get out of the car.
“Yeah,” Jin replies.
“Good luck tomorrow,” Kame smiles, “If you have a concert in Japan again, maybe I’ll go.”
“That’d be cool.”
“Now that you’ve got my number you should call sometime.”
Jin nods, but he already knows he’ll forget, maybe on purpose.
Finally, Kame opens the door and climbs out of the car.
“It was good to see you, Jin,” he says, peering through the rolled down window.
He’s looking at Jin like he’s waiting for something. Jin’s mind races trying to think of what. Should he do something? Say something? Jin reaches desperately for words, the right words, words that will fix everything, or at least make Kame stop looking at him like that.
But Jin’s never been one for words, and next thing he know Kame’s turned around and started back to the house. Halfway up the walk the door bursts open and out runs a young boy, maybe 5. The kid hurtles straight at Kame shouting “Daddy, Daddy, play ball with me!” Kame scoops him up and Jin can see the smile painted across Kame’s face as a pretty woman comes into the open doorway.
“You can play ball later,” she scolds, but there’s no harshness in her tone, “I know you have homework to do before dinner.”
Kame sets the boy (his son, Jin forces himself to admit) down, and he pouts all the way up the steps, past his mother and into the house. The woman rolls her eyes, but she’s grinning, and she too turns to go back in. Finally, there’s just Kame left outside, still smiling like crazy.
Only, Jin notices, it’s a different smile. One he’s never seen before. It’s nice and carefree and full, and Jin suddenly hates it because it doesn’t belong to him. Jin waits for Kame to turn around, to wave goodbye, to fix him with that familiar old smile, but he never does. He climbs the front steps and enters the house without so much as a backward glance.
It makes Jin just a little bit jealous. Not of the wife or the kid, because he’d always known Kame would get married to a nice woman one day and have nice kids. He’s jealous of the way Kame can be so comfortable with the past, of the way Kame makes his decisions with certainty, without regret. Jin’s always been impulsive, and by the time he stops to think about what he’s done, it’s too late to undo it.
Jin sits there in Yamapi’s car for a long time, just staring at the house, at the bike, at the baseball, at the door, at what could have maybe possibly been his life, but now that possibility is too far away to even consider.
‘Was it worth it?’ he asks himself, but the answer is still ‘yes.’
And Jin doesn’t know quite what to do with that.
Overhead, the storm finally breaks, and it starts to rain.
END
Poll Team Future