Yorokobi no Uta
Title: Yorokobi no Uta
Chapters: 1/1
Author: yumemirunosekai
Pairing: Kame/Ueda, Kame/Maru (friendship)
Rating: PG
Warnings: AU, slightly bitchy Kame, a cool cucumber sorta Ueda, cliché settings, unbeta-ed
Synopsis: Kame finally sees it. That person’s face.
A/N: For dori_liv for being awesome. This is my version of a sequel to rockthecliche’s Voids to Fill <----(this is a link people). I LOVED it, but I REALLY needed a KameDa sweet ending from it and after spinning the idea around for a few days, this came up, so... yeah. I suggest you read Voids to Fill before reading this, or you won’t understand what’s going on. I suppose that Nakamaru and Kame seems to be like they’re in a relationship in Voids to Fill, but I’m taken a few creative liberties, and I’m interpreting that they are just roommates, and not lovers (since this information is left rather ambiguous by the author)
A/N2: I don’t know ANYTHING about Tokyo U or whether they have this kinda program or whether non students are allowed to do something like this. It is all MADE UP. My friend's college does this and that’s where I got the idea from.
“Good morning! And thank you for calling-“
Kame slams the phone down.
Kame had promised himself that he wouldn’t stress over it. In fact he isn’t stressing over it - or so he tries to comfort himself - because he’s just fine. Just peachy.
He’s a lot better now, and seeing Nakamaru leave his cups on the coffee table without coasters doesn’t really make him want to rip his hair out as it normally did.
Perhaps something died in him, which he supposes is a good thing, because being OCD isn’t getting him anywhere in the world, except being holed up in this dingy apartment while Nakamaru slaves his ass off at work. Having a pushover for a best friend really did have its perks.
It’s been fucking months.
Months.
Close to a year in fact, but Kame just happens to wake up one fine morning to feel a familiar prickly sensation deep in his gut. He supposes that it’s the heat - after all, it is summer - but when Kame walks bleary-eyed into the living room, loose cotton track pants riding low on his slender hips, he sees the phone, resting innocently in its cradle.
Kame calls the hotline on a whim, and the dial tone goes on and on and on until some girl picks it up. Kame slams it back down before she gets the chance to finish her sentence.
He isn’t going to speak if it isn’t that person at the phone.
///
He can go outside now. It isn’t easy, even though he makes it look that way - just to stop Nakamaru from pestering him. Kame doesn’t know what drives him to bring himself to leave the house, because it’s definitely not shopping, nor is it Nakamaru’s constant coaxing (although that helped a little) because he still hates it; that claustrophobic feeling of being suffocated by people.
People, people, people. It isn’t Kame’s fault he has a problem with crowds. But at the back of his mind, Kame hopes that perhaps he might run into that person. Perhaps, just perhaps. It’s a ridiculous notion, but Kame wants to hope, because he misses it; that baritone voice that is all sardonic and disinterested and yet so silky and smooth and kind. Like honey.
///
“Now you miss him?”
Nakamaru sounds slightly incredulous and amused at the same time.
Kame is curled all the way into one corner of the couch, next to the phone. He glares at his so-called best friend out of his peripheral vision.
“I’ve always missed him.” Kame interjects. “And put the stupid cup on a coaster. How many times do I have to tell you?”
Nakamaru snatches his glass back up and stares at Kame with a worried expression. “Are you okay? It’s been months since I’ve heard you say that.”
Kame is surprised too. “I dunno why I said that.” He admits. “It’s just... It annoyed me. A little. Not as much as it did last time.”
Nakamaru’s brows furrow deeper. “You aren’t seriously going to slip back into... the old you, are you?”
Kame shoots him a dirty look. “Of course not.”
And really, Kame isn’t.
///
Kame calls the hotline every other day now.
And every single time, it’s a girl with a ridiculously high pitched voice. It eats at his eardrums. Kame prepares to slam down the phone, when he hears it.
It’s mostly background noise, like in an office of something. Kame can hear the hum of the A/C and muffled voices of people talking. But he’d be damned if he heard it wrong. It’s soft, but that smooth baritone in the background, soft like melting cream, yet comforting at the same time, even if it’s so far away, barely audible - Kame can recognise it anywhere.
“WAIT.”
The girl on the line seems to have been shocked into a moment’s silence, and in that time, his voice is clearer and louder than before, sounding ever so close, yet so fucking far.
“Who is that?” Kame asks, his fingers are twisted into the cushion in his lap and he’s half rising from his seat.
There is silence on the other end, and Kame hears someone in the background speak. “-you okay?”
It’s very quiet, and Kame supposes that the rhetorical question was directed at the girl who’s on the phone with him. Taking advantage of the silence, he continues. “Who else is there?”
“U-Uhm... sorry?” comes the girl’s annoyingly confused voice, and Kame wants to rip his eyeballs out.
“Who else is there in the room with you?” Kame asks again, and this time he sounds more urgent.
He’s there. He’s there. He’s there.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t disclose that infor-“
“Bullshit.” Kame hisses, and then he claps a hand to his mouth, completely and utterly shocked with himself. He hadn’t sworn in years. Why now?
“-What’s wrong?”
Kame’s ears perk up immediately, because it’s that person’s voice he hears; and it so close to the phone. He wants to shout, to yell, maybe beg, or apologise for sounding like a dick earlier, but there is a frantic scrabbling, and the line goes dead.
////
“So... you’re telling me that you ‘accidentally’ threw the phone at the wall?”
Kame blushes, ashamed.
“Yes.”
“’Accidentally’?”
“Yes.”
Nakamaru sighs. “What happened?”
Kame groans and sinks into the couch again, next to the now empty phone table. “He was so close.” Kame whispers. “I could have spoken to him.”
“On the phone?”
“No, on the TV.” Kame says, sardonic sarcasm lacing his words. “Of course on the phone!”
“Did you actually hear him?”
“In the background, yeah.”
“And knowing you, you must have yelled and demanded to speak to him in a way that made the person on the line freak out and hang up on you.” Nakamaru deadpans, kneading his temples. “There’s this thing called patience, Kame.”
“I just...” Kame pauses, and licks his lips nervously. “I really wanted to speak to him again.”
“You really are wound up today.” Nakamaru says comfortingly.
“Gee, y’think?” Kame retorts, scowling. “What gave it away?”
“Your overly nasty sarcastic attitude and that my book collection has been re-alphabetised, twice, apparently - and that the kitchen looks cleaner than it did this morning.” Nakamaru says lightly. “I suppose the goblins in your head are really doing you in today.”
Kame sighs. “I just-“
“Want to hear his voice again.” Nakamaru finishes. “And I see that after all this, you do deserve a present.”
Kame looks up from under his lashes to see Nakamaru holding a square piece of paper with a big smile that puts his nose to shame.
///
Tokyo University is the last place on Kame’s list of 1000 Places to Visit Again before I Die.
He dropped out of it 3 years ago, and if he were still here, he’d probably be in his Third Year of Medicine. The consequence of descending into a hermit lifestyle is just unavoidable.
Kame was honestly surprised to find out that the hotline calls he’s been making is actually to a group of Fourth Year Psychology students at the very university he dropped out from. How Nakamaru had managed to get hold of such information is beyond him, and Kame remembers vividly promising Nakamaru that he can leave his work on the coffee table however, and whenever he likes without worrying that Kame might throw a hissy fit.
The administrations’ office is at the far end of the building, just as he remembered. The lady at the desk is no longer the obaa-san with tight grey curls and a frown-y mouth, but a stick thin lady in her 40s.
“How can I help you?”
Kame fidgets. He still isn’t comfortable with talking to people without Nakamaru next to him.”I... I was wondering if there was any chance I could apply for a position in the University Hotline program.”
The lady adjusts her glasses and shuffles through several files, taps a few keys on her computer and finally looks back at Kame. “Are you a Psychology student?”
“No...”
“Then, are you a student at the university?
“I... I used to be.” He admits.
The lady quirks a brow. “Then I’m not sure if that’s possible, sir. After all, the Hotline program is designed specifically for our students to give them experience and to allow them to apply the skills learnt in real life situations.”
Kame swallows. “Is there any way I can apply?” he asks.
The lady looks thoughtful for awhile. “Well... If you apply as a gap student, or volunteer or something, I suppose that is possible... But while the students are paid for this, you will not be I afraid.”
Kame only nods frantically. “I don’t mind. I just-“ he pauses.”- I just really want to help.”
///
Kame starts next week, and he leaves the house when Nakamaru goes to work.
Part of him is anxious, tingling with barely suppresses anxiety and on the brink of combusting in fear. Another part of him is excited. He can finally, finally, see that person.
He’s taken up many flights of stairs and passes many chattering students, some of them look at him weird, and Kame struggles to meet their eyes.
The words ‘new student?’ flutters by his ears as he passes more and more people. Kame ignores them. A pait of girls start giggling when Kame’s eyes accidently drift over to them, and whispers of ‘kawaii’ in scratchy, high pitched noises grate at his nerves.
Finally, they arrive at a wooden door with a small Perspex square cut into it. His guide, who was silent all the way gestures him in, and Kame feels like someone had just sucked all the air from the room. He has to force his eyes from watering and he hopes that no one can hear how raggedy his breath sounds.
Six.
Six pairs of eyes stare at him with mixed feelings swimming in their depths.
“This is Kamenashi Kazuya, and he’ll be joining this group as a volunteer. Please make him feel welcome."
With those simple sentences, his guide is gone, and Kame is left to fend for himself. No one speaks, and Kame suddenly wishes for someone to shoot him, because the awkwardness in the air is crushing his lungs.
“Hi!”
And the solid objects in Kame’s trachea melts, allowing him to take a breath of much needed oxygen.
It’s a smiley girl with pigtails. And from her voice, Kame realises that she’s the one who he had almost yelled at through the phone. Praying that she won’t recognise his voice, Kame speaks.
“Hi.”
“So~ You’re the volunteer. Cool! We rarely get volunteers for this program. So it’s really great that you came. I’m Toda Erika by the way.”
“K-Kamenashi Kazuya.” Kame says. And that was all that was needed to break the ice.
///
When all six of the students finished speaking, Kame can feel something cold and clammy slide into his gut. None of them sounded anything like the man he had spoken to on the phone all those months ago.
The disappointment is harsh, and Kame suddenly feels like crying and crawling back into the hole where he once came from. The cold and clammy thing that sits in his gut starts to fester and burns, making him blink back the frustration that starts to leak out of him in the form of tears.
“So, why did you volunteer, Kamenashi-san?”
Kame blinks, and gulps.
“W-Why?”
A buzz-cut boy, who introduced himself as Tanaka Koki nodded. “Yeah. You must have a reason for joining, right? I mean, why would you suddenly get your ass off and decide: ‘Hey! I think I’ll sign up to listen to people’s problems just for them heck of it.’ right?”
Kame knows why he signed up.
I wanted to see him.
He understood me when nobody did.
He listened to me when I needed to talk.
I felt close to him.
I want to see him.
He saved me.
“Because I used to be one of those people on the other side of the line.” He answers, finally.
///
Kame returns home and wallows in the bedroom for hours on end. When he emerges, he is puffy eyed and red-faced. Tear tracks evident on his face. Nakamaru tucks him into bed early that night with a glass of barley sugar dissolved in warm water perched on the bedside table.
Kame didn't yell at him for not stacking the dishes from according to their weight.
///
Kame goes back to the university the next day and is ready to quit. But then he decides to stay for another day.
Just because it’s polite.
///
That day Kame answers 15 calls, each from strangers - 10 women and 5 men - who unload everything on him.
Kame realises he doesn’t need to try to understand them, because he does.
///
Kame doesn’t quit in the end. He doesn’t ask about that person. He just supposes that it’s for the best.
///
1 week
///
Ueda returns to classes with a splitting headache.
“That’s what happens when you overwork,” Koki had said.
It wasn't like he wanted to take leave. It was the stupid campus nurse who insisted he remove himself from the phones in the Hotline room and get some much needed rest.
No one kept him updated on what went on in school, because they were forced not to until he fully recovered.
///
The first thing that greets him when he bumps into Koki on the way to the cafeteria, is the man’s loud “Oh yeah, I completely forgot!”.
Ueda raises a delicate brow. Koki always forgets,
“We've got a volunteer working the phones. He’s a really cool guy, and I guess you should go say hi, because we kinda forgot to mention your existence to him.”
Ueda scowls. “Gee, how thoughtful of you. I have such wonderful friends.”
They never get volunteers. Who wants to spend half the day listening to some random stranger ramble on about problems that you don’t give a rat’s ass about? So Ueda is honestly curious. He skips lunch and heads over to the Hotline room. He door is open, and Ueda can see the back of a person’s head, as he sits at one of the desks, phone pressed to his ear.
Ueda finds himself staring at the man’s posture. He’s relaxed, with his chin resting on his palm.
“-my name?” Ueda hears him say, this tone slightly surprised.
Ueda recognises that voice, and it’s like an old friend returning to him after being separated for months. But something is different from this person’s voice from the one he remembers all those months ago.
This person sounds happy. Content.
“I'm afraid I can say that.” Ueda hears the man continue. He’s now chuckling softly. Gently.
“Why not? Well... It’s frowned upon. I'm supposed to just let you talk to me, like this.”
It’s like déjà vu, and he recalls saying these exact same words to a certain man whom he hasn't forgotten, even though it’s been months and months since he’s heard that voice.
“But you can tell me yours.” Says the man.
And then Ueda just walks in, not caring that the person is still on the phone, and not caring that he’s being rude.
“It’s Ueda.” Ueda says, and the man spins around in surprise, his lips parted in a silent gasp.
The first thing Ueda notes is that Kamenashi Kazuya, or Kame - as he was told to call him - has really pretty eyelashes. Long and curling.
Kame’s fingers are lax, on the phone as he stares at Ueda, his voice still lingering in the air.
‘But you can tell me yours.’
Ueda smiles, and his baritone voice fills the comfortable silence.
“My name’s Ueda Tatsuya.”
-------------
Again, the original story belongs to rockthecliche. I just needed this sequel.
This was written in 3 hours and is a mix of whatever popped into my mind at that moment, so it may sound weird, but I NEEDED to get it out of my system or I can never get beck to working on my fic the faith assignment. So...yeah. And again, for dori_liv, and again, for being AWESOME XDD
Yumemirunosekai xx