Nothing is mine, yet my heart belongs to another

{ficlet} Heaving breaths

2009-07-23T14:29:40Z

Title: Heaving breaths
Author: Rin
Pairing: Kamenashi Kazuya x Akanishi Jin
Genre: Romance
Rating: PG
Warnings: none, perfectly safe
Summary: Jin has been feeling like a mess ever since Kame has left. He has nothing to be sorry for. He was the one who asked him to leave. But why weren’t the memories of “him” leaving Jin? He then decides to send an un-love-d letter to Kame in hopes to have some peace of mind… but is he actually just giving himself a piece of his mind?
Notes: just a random thought bubble that passed by, like an hour before I posted this.

Kamenashi Kazuya,

~~My dear Kazu, I’m merely writing this letter to tell you that I haven’t been thinking about you~~
Now that was just wrong. I am writing to tell you that I’m not thinking of you but then I realize that writing this letter telling you that I’m not thinking about you means that I have been thinking of you, right here, right now in this letter… which totally defeats the whole purpose of this letter which is to say…

Kazuya, I don’t miss you.

I don’t miss you when you’re invading my dreams at night. Or when I lose sleep over not having those dreams of you beside me on this huge bed made for one. You know these are the only things that I have now you’re gone.

They’re not yours. Not yours to carry, not yours to lose sleep over, not yours to toss and turn over in your bed at night, they’re mine.

All mine.

I don’t miss you when you’re out with your friends and I have no idea where you are or who you’re with. If you’re indeed enjoying yourself or you could’ve wished that someone else was with you, I don’t miss you at all.

I wonder though who keeps your little bed warm at night, when clearly I am missing your warmth over right here where I sleep. When the cold has become a familiar friend and nothing I do can cast it away. I am missing a secret weapon, a secret treasure that I’ve come to acquire during a course of arguments, bickering and of course stillness where we haven’t said anything, but we knew.

Oh, yes we knew.

We knew what each other was thinking, we knew what each other was going to say even before he said it and would finish each other’s sentences in ways no one thought possible. Kazuya, I hate that you intruded my mind.

I hated being so open with someone. It makes me feel vulnerable and weak. You could so easily use everything against me and cut me with just a few little words. I’m disgusted with myself every time we talk and share. I’m terrified of possible repercussions. It would take just a little thing to ruin me. I could say something wrong and you could get angry. You could use all of this against me. I hate it so much.

But I hate the fact that I can’t speak with you because you’re angry with me and we’re stubborn and we don’t want to give in easily and we don’t give in. So we end up not talking with one another, not apologizing and trying not to notice each other’s presence. But there is just so much to take in of you and so little space to breathe in. Even when we are in separate beds, separate rooms, separate houses and even separate hearts, we still have that connection that pulls you close to me, and I to you, inch by agonizing inch, we find each other and the fight seems so trivial that we laugh, our chests heaving air at the same time. Then those breaths become deeper and deeper. And yet, the air still does not become enough for both of us.

Think of your heart, and the only man that could’ve broken it. Then think of all the ways you could love him, break him and just leave him to bleed to pieces. Who are you thinking of?

Think of a song, any song. Probably something that you would strum on a guitar. Whose fingers do you see holding yours, running along yours, kissing them till they become wet with desire? Whose song do you sing by yourself, alone in a dark room, watching the sun rise by your window, sighing that deep sigh of yours signaling the start of your day?

I think of a smile, a warm smile, with a loud cry of “Occhei!” which he thinks is cute. Which he thinks hides the pain that smile is covering. Well, he doesn’t fool everyone. Not me. And I hate that.

I hate the way you call every dog “Wan-wan” and likewise every cat you see “Nyan-Nyan”. They are not pet names. You can’t take every animal you see as your pet. You have a pet. Or should I say you had one.

I hate the fact that a lot of women find you attractive. They claw at my feet, dig in my ankles, and my hands get tangled in their hair trying to get them off myself. They dirty all the places you like to touch.

I hate the fact more that some men know what you are. What you become when you are with me and I feel jealous. Jealous not because I will not be there for you but because I wonder if you show them those moves that I love. Those lips that I spend hours tracing my fingertips over. Then when that trail becomes cold, I warm it with my lips and linger on them moments after the cold has left your lips and we bask in the warmth that we share, your resolution falling weak and my restraint falling a lot weaker.

But as they scream and scream and scream to fight to get closer to you, you never do. Scream that is. There are no screams, or pleads, or tears coming out of you, just silence.

And I'm afraid that might be worse. Is that fear? Or something else that I might not be thinking about? Like trust? Like you.

Kazuya, I’m sorry. I am not in love with a man. A man who has always been haunting my thoughts at night and during the morning when I don’t see you; where I pretend to see you until I actually have you staring straight at me wherein you look away. Embarrassed, shy, and no doubt thinking about the same things that you would want to keep to yourself till you’d have the chance to tell me yourself.

And just like this letter telling you that I’m not thinking about you, the words would probably never leave my lips, would only remain in writing were I have the strength to tell you. Where after you read this, you would crumple it in your gentle hands, trying to crush all the words into the paper itself where you can’t see them, where you pretend to forget… forget all the things that I have said and all the things that have hurt you. The edges of the paper would sting into your hard fist and you would have to force to let it drop from your grasp and land to the floor. Or the sink, if you had been wanting to hit something and feel something break.

Oh, Kazuya. Something has already been broken. And it wasn’t the bathroom mirror where you spend hours brushing your teeth, shaving and making sure that your face was clean, and where we spend a few minutes just looking at each other.

I’m sorry I couldn’t love a man back then and right now.

Kazuya, I’m sorry that I’m not in love with you.

But I can learn how to be.

Jin

P.S. ~~Right when you're about to throw this letter, I’m coming right over~~
I believe I have always been right here.

Sappy. I know. What the heck. It was a fit of emotions and I wanted to type it down and post it before I reread what I did. I don't like the last part though. I mean, i like how it ends but it just ends weirdly for me.

Let me think what you think about it though, please. ♥

Edited: forgot to say, hopefully the one i will finish next is my fic dedicated to kirei_shinigami♥ so please stay put ne? *huggles* ♥

{fic} The Tip of an Umbrella

2009-07-17T10:45:33Z

Title: The Tip of an Umbrella
Author: Rin
Pairing: Akanishi Jin x Kamenashi Kazuya
Genre: Romance, Angst
Rating: PG
Warnings: none. Perfectly safe.
Summary: Sadness. Solitude. Pouring rain. One umbrella. Two people.
Notes: Short pic fic dedicated to neechan, to cheer her up during the rainy days especially when she doesn’t have an umbrella.

i. My heart always drifted from day to day

The sudden roar of thunder momentarily wakes him up from his haze. He drifts his eyes from looking at him to the window just beside him. He looks at it for a moment then continues back to his staring.

He didn’t like the rain. It reminded him of happy yet painful memories. It made everything dark and loud. It’s power was overwhelming and sometimes he doesn’t know if it’ll ever end. It swallows him and when it finally spits him out, he’s wet and cold and it doesn’t make sense for the clouds to cry like that when they’re so close to the sun. The sun.

Him

He looks always so bright. So full of vital energy that he rarely shows people he’s tired. Jin knows that he mostly pushes himself just to take that extra step so that everyone would follow suit but he sees right through it and he isn’t fooled for one minute. He wants to pull him up against his arms, take him hostage for a couple of hours and tie him to the bed.

Goodness, no. Not for any of that. Just so that he would get some rest and that someone would watch over him while he does. He doesn’t need anyone else to disturb him.

Unless that someone be named with three letters.

…god. Yeah… god.

ii. Looking for the love that never came my way

It has been hours and it’s finally time to go home.

The rain hasn’t stopped yet but that didn’t bother some people.

Koki brought an umbrella and with Nakamaru’s “Waah!-It’s-coming-down-hard!” complains, he was forced to take the guy along with him.

Jin was pretty sure it was only a way to catch Koki’s attention but the guy didn’t really mind. He actually looked quite happy as they shared his tiny umbrella, smiling and giggling as they evaded the icy raindrops falling on them.

He actually found himself close to smiling at the two of them as he heard a familiar line playing from one of the songs he longed to live.*

But the smile didn’t last long as he saw Taguchi making a run for it, water sloshing at his feet and creating splashes out of the rain. Each ripple that it made affected him like a shockwave of arctic proportions.

He takes a deep breath and steps out of the building but still onto the safe shelter of the roof. With a closer look now, he notices the puddles of water building up on the pavement. He quickly looks away in disgust at the water that reflects someone that he doesn’t want to see; a shell of something that he once was. Someone like that pool of water that had no meaning… hollow.

He watched as drips of water added bit by bit to the sadness he was feeling. It created ripples of emotion that seeped his life out to the vast unknown.

“I’ve got an umbrella.”

He glances to the direction of the voice he had only known too well. Only dreamt of too often and often lost sleep over. He wants to make sure that it was him who he was talking to and not just a random statement of fact that he wants the whole world to know that he indeed has an umbrella. Now that was just plain stupid.

“We could share.”

His heart takes a sudden stop and then beats frantically. Was his heart even beating before this took place? He wasn’t too sure. Neither was he certain what he wanted to do at this moment. Would he risk getting burnt by the sun or not being shined on at all?

He looks to Ueda for some help but he merely shakes his head and says something that is so much like him; jogging under the rain. As he watches the other man reach up for his hood, the sinewy muscles of his forearm flexing, he thinks that it must be nice not to stop reaching for that dream.

“Well?”

He pretends to not hear him although the light is blinding him and he can’t help but to try to move closer to it if possible, without being overpowered.

“You don’t like the rain.”

It wasn’t made into a question. Or an accusation. And yet, it wasn’t made into a line that was said with hesitation either. Hewas sure of what he said. Like it was something he observed and the line resounded in his head. It was time-stamped from memory and in his memory it would remain… forever.

He stays silent because he wants to hear his own answer. But his voice has betrayed him. His mouth runs dry and he doesn’t know what to say otherwise. So he merely shakes his head, his eyes to the ground, afraid of the next words.

“Me too.” He says with a nervous laugh.

And that makes him quite warm, actually. Not that it mattered what the reason may be behind that simple answer but it was a commonality that they shared. With the inclusion of the nervous laugh he gave, gave him small hope that he didn’t want to share this little tidbit of information with anyone else.

He was genuinely feeling good. He was getting closer to the sun.

Just then, one of their personal assistants came along. She took one glance at the sky and gave a heavy sigh. She didn’t have an umbrella either.

Now this would be an awkward situation. Not all three of them would fit in the umbrella and even if they would, there would be a chance that he would feel the icy cold…

“Take mine, Ms. Yanagi” he said gently with a warm smile on his face.

And the sun’s rays didn’t seem to be affected by this sudden turn of events but his did. How was he supposed to go home now? Not that he wanted to go home any way but he didn’t want to wait out for the rain either.

iii.

As they wave goodbye to their little friend, he is left with the unresolved problem of the cold atmosphere creeping into his very soul. He looks up and thinks that it shouldn’t be that far away to the waiting shed on the corner where he could grab a cab and try to scrub off the cold shards of the rain piercing through his skin back to his tiny apartment where he would curl up into a ball till it was morning again, right?

He takes a deep breath, lets it out and starts walking.

At first, the wintry raindrops sting like a thousand bees penetrating his skin but after a while, it gets comforting. Like a familiar, close friend you haven’t seen for a while and the nostalgia just takes you by the hand and holds, and squeezes tightly that you can’t find the strength to let go and you find yourself holding onto him even though you can’t remember why you were walking with him in the first place. You don’t remember when or how you’ve met but you’re just happy that you’ve gotten back together and… and…

And as he breathed deeply, he closed his eyes to savor a heady scent. It wasn’t anything that he had ever experienced before and he let the aroma fill his nostrils and his head. It was intoxicating. He was getting dizzy from the heavy scent looming in the air but he was surprised that it wasn’t coming to him as a freezing breath. It was warm and tingly and made him think of a field of flowers that had been drizzled on by the rain and were being made to dry.

He looks to his side and notices him holding his jacket right above his (Jin’s) head, his arm draped over his shoulders, protecting him from the rain.

“Could you hold that side for me?” he asks.

Jin grabs the side over his head and Kame releases his left hand, sliding it along Jin’s shoulder, leaving a warm and enticing trail.

“Thanks.” He says smiling again and this time he can’t seem to look away. They stare at each other and stay that way in the middle of the parking lot for a moment. Or two. Or three. Or… who was counting anyway?

“Ready?”

And Jin wasn’t sure what for but he decided he was tired of being afraid; of being alone. He was willing to take the risk. Even if it meant being burnt by the sun. He wasn’t going to touch it then jerk his hand back out to caress it anymore.

Jin takes his hand and pulls him along. He doesn’t care where they’re going.

The rain didn’t seem so cold anymore with his locked worries thrown away, a smile set on his face, his hand grasping a very important thing and his heart worn on his sleeve.

*Two less lonely people in the world

-----
Somehow… This story is a bit inconsistent, don’t you think? Some good parts here and some bad parts there. I don’t know what happened with my writing honestly. Any ideas how to make it better? I wanted to write Jin in the first person but I wanted to experiment with this a little.

But what do you think about the rain? I absolutely love the rain. Why? Hmm… I can’t explain it right but probably the best way I can is to say that it gives a feeling of relief and refresh-ness whenever you get too much of the warmth of the sun. Something like that. Do you like the rain too?

The lyrics are from Air Supply’s “Two Less Lonely People in the World” because my dad was listening to it the other day. And I got help from my dad in choosing the first picture. [You know how much this means to me, neechan] so I hope you guys liked it.

Credits for the pictures to janinehealy @ flickr, sunrisegoodbyes @ flickr and smashingmagazine’s spring collection, respectively. Prompt me?

{drabble} Of Silly Dreams and Sweet Beginnings

2009-07-13T13:06:03Z

Title: [drabble] Of Silly Dreams and Sweet Beginnings
Author: Rin
Pairing: Kamenashi Kazuya x Akanishi Jin
Genre: Romance
Word Count: 635
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None, really. Just a few kissing.
Summary: Jin has a bad dream and he needs Kazuya to make it go away.
Notes: It’s my first drabble [ever] so I’m open to any comments. Also, I made this just a few minutes ago so please be a bit gentle. Comments are love.

As I float endlessly into a sea of vast wonders, swimming with the fishes, with his hand slowly tapping me on the shoulder to see another wonderful creature, I realize that the sea is suddenly fading. I was confused for a second thinking that pollution has won over the battle and we don’t have any more resources to bask in. but little did i know that i felt tepid hands on my shoulders.

i opened my eyes and found the most beautiful thing that my eyes have ever set on. He looks at me with a slight worry on his face. i rub my eyes to make sure i get a bigger picture.

I then carefully sit up against the headboard and take his head into my hands. He keeps his eyes shut but I can see how he pains himself to force them to stay that way. If he only knew how much more it pained me to see him like this.

I traced the dark circles under his eyes. The tour has been going well but it has not been going well on our hours of sleep. I wanted to go back to my dream badly myself but I wanted to see him at ease more than anything else.

“I had a bad dream” he cooed.

I nodded my head as I stroked his light brown hair. He always had soft hair, no matter if he was awake or woken up from a deep sleep. It probably took him hours to keep it this way. Hours more to keep my hands away from it. I waited for him to continue.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” I asked, though I knew he would not answer.

He gently shakes his head and turns to bury his face onto my lap. I shift my hand from his smooth hair to trace the delicate lines of his nape. I might or might not have told him this but I love his little quirk when he touches this part right here… a shiver courses through his body as I remember his boyish grins whenever he touches his nape.

I can see his facial muscles form a smile and he turns over again.

“Hey…” he starts sleepily. “Tell me a story.” And yet, I could feel that what he means is I’m afraid to close my eyes

“Any story” he adds. your voice soothes my nerves

I brush the hair away from his eyes. I want to see the clearness of those eyes that I can spend hours to be lost into. The vast love hidden behind it all. He waits patiently for my response. Any response. Both of us know that patience isn’t one of his strongest factors but he waits anyway. Fortunately, it isn’t one of mine either.

“Do you want me to kiss it away?” I ask as I bend my head down to his so that he could feel my breath on his face.

He gives in easily enough, pushing himself just a bit to meet me. As his lips gently nudge mine and I hear the words in my head, I suddenly feel like a mother kissing a child to make the boo-boos go away. Only this time, we knew we aren’t children anymore. We were adults who only knew what would happen after this.

He tastes of morning breath, words unspoken and a sweet, sweet taste of summer dreams about to happen. He starts to intertwine his arms around my neck and I probe my tongue to get a better taste of his soft lips wet with desire.

But he suddenly pulls away, looks deep in my eyes, smiles warmly and lies back down to his side of the bed. I try to hide my smile as I tuck the covers underneath his chin even though I know that he would just kick them off the bed later. I stretch out a hand to turn off the lamp and drape my arm around his waist. His hand covers mine as he sleepily mutters something that sounds to me like “I won’t lose you”

. . . . .

Yeah, I know. Weird. Comments are welcome though. I don’t know how to make this into a fic so until that time comes; I think I’ll end it with this light feeling.

On another note, I’m still working on Epiphany (Reprise) [Jin’s POV of Epiphany] so any help on the matter would be delightful. I’ve been watching Jin videos nonstop to help me build his character better and up until now, not much progress. That and the fact that my boss is dropping dump after dump of files on my desk before I report for work and have to get done through the day. -____-;;

Oh. Last. If you want to add me as a friend, please go right ahead but do leave me a message or something when you want me to add you back alright? CX Friends are *hearts*

[Akame] Epiphany

2009-06-26T09:42:27Z

Title: Epiphany
Author: Rin
Pairing(s): Akanishi Jin x Kamenashi Kazuya
Rating: PG-13 / T
Genre: Angst / Romance
Warning: brief nudity, moderate language
Disclaimer: don't own any of them. though i can wish.
Summary: It has been a while since the two of them decided to enter this relationship. But Kazuya thinks it's time to part ways. But can he be strong enough to leave Jin as if nothing happened?

Author's Note: i ♥ how this fic turned out to be.

Epiphany

-----

When I woke up this morning, I knew that I didn’t love him anymore.

I watched him as he slept beside me, arms wrapped around my waist, face half-buried in the flesh of my shoulder.

His loud snores rudely stabbed the silence around us.

I struggled to sit, removing the weight of his arms from my body. When I managed to, he turned so that he lay on his back, arms spread on the bed that suddenly seemed too narrow.

I rubbed my eyes and brushed my hands through my hair. His mouth was open. I could see a fine trail of spittle running from the side of it. I turned away in revulsion.

Before getting up, I held back the urge to cover his face with a pillow or the worn flannel blanket that he loved as much as I detested it.

I would have given anything to be rid of that sight.

He would not be up until seven-thirty, one hour before his said shoot. He would kiss me on the mouth without even gargling, before sitting to eat the breakfast that I had prepared.

He had a terrific appetite. No bread or cereal for him. It was always fried rice, miso soup, croquette or wieners and dried salted fish with a big glass of milk or orange juice.

He said that his work shooting demanded a meal of this size, but I think not.

If not for his daily routine, he would be obese.

He would eat anything I cooked. Even that Pork Curry experiment that had the consistency of soup. That was long ago. I have perfected it now, along with the pesto pasta that he eats with much gusto.

But there would be no cooking from me today.

Stepping into the cold spray of the shower, I decided that if he wanted breakfast, he would have to cook it himself.

As I entered our room, I saw that he had kicked the covers once again. Half of it had already fallen on the floor. He slept in the nude, whether we had sex or not. His body was as toned as ever, not an ounce of fat hanging from his belly.

Looking at him, I felt anything but delight. Or arousal.

While drying my hair with the towel, I remembered waking up with his stiff sex pressing on my thigh or backside and we would make love as if we hadn’t the night before.

How I loved him then.

I dressed quickly, careful not to wake him, not because I wanted him to get all the sleep he could. I just didn’t want to talk to him. I was tired of the mindless chatter and stupid remarks

I got out of the house without awakening him.

-----

While driving along the highway, I noticed that the car smelled a lot like him.

I used to tell him not to douse himself with his perfume that could be cloying when sprayed in high amounts.

But he never listened. As usual.

We used to wear the same perfume. I stopped using his brand months ago. But I could still smell him on me, on my clothes, in my car.

I thought of ways to remove his scent as I passed by a billboard. There was a new movie showing.

I told myself that I would see it without taking him with me.

When we watch movies, all he did was snuggle up to me and sleep. He never appreciated good movies. When I tried to start discussions about a movie we had seen together, his insights were so shallow that I always regretted initiating them.

He preferred to see those martial arts B-movies entitled Raging Fury 2 or Dragon Fists or something.

I told myself: I’m never going to fall in love with someone like him again.

When I arrived at the studio, Amy, our receptionist was on the phone. She mouthed his name and I told her softly to tell him that I wasn’t in yet. I closed my eyes as I sat on my chair. Like clockwork, his calls always came when I got to the office and in the afternoon, before I left. If he wanted to be fetched or if we were going to meet somewhere, he would call. He could drive but he didn’t want to buy his own car. He preferred taking cabs. In one of his stupid jokes, he said he fancied himself a connoisseur of cabs.

God! If I could only make him disappear.

I tried to think of something else, but I couldn’t. he had a funny way of sneaking into my mind sometimes. I proceeded to attend to my tasks, ignoring all vestiges of him in my mind. His smile, his eyes that always seem to implore, his gait.

Before I went out for lunch, Amy peered into my office and told me he was on the phone. I didn’t want to talk to him, but I had no choice.

He didn’t notice my irritation. He never knew how to be sensitive at the right time.

I realized this long ago.

He would usually flare up over the most mundane things, react to the simplest of remarks in a violent way—yet he would ignore the things that needed his full attention. Things like my growing dislike for him, for the way his ears stuck out of his head, or the way he speaks when he’s trying to make a point.

I don’t like the way he touches me when he’s drunk. I absolutely detest him when he’s in front of the TV; watching those idiotic wrestling shows, mesmerized; or laughing like a hyena at the foolish inanities of a gag show.

Maybe that was where he got his sense of humor.

Maybe he was just born that way.

Maybe I shouldn’t really care.

I went out for lunch glumly.

-----

When I came back to my office, the applicant scheduled for a job interview was waiting for me. I went to the washroom. While shaking thoughts of him out of my head by dousing my face with the cold water running from the faucet, I decide that I wouldn’t let him affect me this way again.

But as luck would have it, the applicant only reminded me of him.

Tense but trying hard to hide it.

That was how we met.

Although the applicant’s transcript and background training were exemplary, I didn’t like him. His resemblance in disposition to him worked against him. Reminding myself of the decision I made in the comfort room, I told the applicant plainly (and coldly, I think) that he could come back for the second interview. A step closer to being hired.

After the applicant left, I told Amy I didn’t want to be disturbed with any calls or visits. I closed my eyes and sat back—trying, but not succeeding, to relax. My chair was soft and plush; at another time, I would have dozed off but I couldn’t now. My mind was full of thoughts too sudden and too intense to describe.

What right did he have to make me feel this way?

All he did was nag me when he felt insecure about our relationship, accusing me of infidelity when in truth he was the flirt! When he got that way, he was worse than my mother. And my father left her.

This has got to stop.

I have every right to be happy and be at peace. If it means leaving him, then I would do it. I couldn’t go on like this; I really couldn’t.

Tonight, I told myself, I’m going to break it to him.

I was getting ready to go home, clearing my desk of the day’s clutter. As I picked up the thick folder containing the applicant’s files, something fell to the floor. I bent to retrieve it and saw that it was his picture, framed in silver.

It was taken a year ago. He was smiling as he sat on the grass after trying, and failing, to mount the horse three times. His fleshy legs were splayed, muscles bulging in his jeans. His eyes turned into narrow slits because of that smile. I used to tease him about his eyes that disappear whenever he smiled. His eyes were almond-shaped, the pupils brownish-gray.

Memories of that day came to me. It was three weeks after our second anniversary and it was the only time we go out and celebrate. We spent the weekend thinking of nothing else but the two of us. We were beyond happy. Not only for the fact that we lasted that long but also because after that, we would move to the house that we both saved up for. We were leaving our crappy apartment for the quiet suburbs. He was attentive to my needs as I was to him; we didn’t fight but we bickered and we teased each other to death.

Basically, we were just being what we were: lovers.

Lovers. That was always how he introduced me to his friends, even his clients. This is my lover, he would say. No qualms, no hesitation. His family had known about us from the beginning of our relationship. He had been independent since he was eighteen and when I moved in with him, no one was more prudish than I was. I admit that his conviction, his confidence in our relationship is something that I didn’t have.

I loved him, yes, but I didn’t have the guts to flaunt him the way he sometimes did me.

I was never proud of him. He didn’t move well within my circle of friends. At one point, he even dismissed our intellectual dissections as mere snobbery. They alienated people like him who didn’t share my need to pick someone else’s brains once in a while. I know, too that my friends didn’t like him. You’re so different from him, one would say. He’s rather dense, another would add. But my friends and I didn’t influence one another. We made mistakes and learned from them pretty much on our own. We consoled each other, gave support but when it came to decisions, we didn’t impose our will on each other.

While driving home, I thought that we were unlike as any two lovers could be. I preferred dark-colored suits while he wore his designer jeans just about anywhere. He could never understand any of the songs I liked. He ate a lot of meat. I liked fish better. I drank liters of coffee, which he didn’t like. I didn’t smoke, he did; I drank and he didn’t.

I noticed the billboard of the movie I wanted to watch again and saw an action-packed tarp just right beside it. I knew that if he saw that ad, he would drag me to see it with him. The first time, I promised him I would just sleep, as he did when we watched the movies I liked. But I didn’t fall asleep. I didn’t like the movie but I could only sleep in total darkness.

He couldn’t, by the way. He needs to see at least one light turned on to be able to sleep. I always had to wait for him to fall asleep so I could turn off the light. I used to like watching him sleep, even though he snored. Sometimes he would do so in my arms and I would just look at him.

Am I going to miss him when we part? I thought so. To my dismay, I thought he had grown on me. Three years of being together, being with the same person could do that to anyone… I guessed.

---

As the car turned into our driveway, I rehearsed my parting speech so that I’d be ready by the time he arrived at eight. When I got out of my car, I saw that the lights in the house were on. He had forgotten to them off again!

I got in quickly and smelled something. I went straight into the kitchen and saw a simmering pot full of hot-pot, the only dish he knew how to cook. Rice was already cooked, too. But he was nowhere to be seen. I called him. No response. I turned off the gas stove before the soup dried and went up to our room.

While removing my shoes before going in, I noticed his boots lying on the bathroom door. Shaking my head, I put them beside mine and went inside. I changed into my shorts and a white shirt. He wasn’t in bed. In the bathroom maybe. I knocked and called out his name. I heard a groan. I pushed the door but it wouldn’t open all the way. I saw his legs, clad in gray flannel shorts, blocking the door.

I squeezed in, sweat running on the side of my face. He lay on his side by the toilet bowl, arely lifting his head upon my entrance. I checked his head for any injuries. There were none. But he was burning hot. His shirt hung by the mirror. I took it and tried to put it on hi. He told me he got dizzy as he was washing his face.

“You have a fever” he nodded.

I helped him up, even though he outweighed me by almost thirty pounds, and got him to bed. I went back to the bathroom to get the thermometer and placed it in his mouth.

He was saying something, but with the instrument in his mouth, I couldn’t understand it. I took it out, then read. Forty degrees Centigrade. How was he able to cook with this temperature?

“Dinner’s ready,” he finally managed to say.

“Yeah, I saw it,” I smiled. “Looks good”

“Only dish I know”

“And my favorite”

He smiled, so heartbreakingly sweet, and started to say something else but I hushed him, telling him to rest, asking him what he wanted. He clung to me tightly. The heat from his fever came in waves I could almost see. His breath was hotter on the side of my neck and it sounded pained, labored.

“I love you”

The words almost choked me. “I know…”

I let go and touched his forehead, brushing the locks of hair that stuck there. It felt hot and dry. He opened his eyes slightly and whispered that my touch felt good. I asked him if he wanted to eat and he said his throat was sore.

“Let’s go to the doctor, then.”

“Prescription’s in the bag.”

I went to his bag and took it. He had purchased his own medicine. Tablets for the fever, capsules for the sore throat. An aspirator for his sporadic asthma attacks was also in the bag.

How long has he been feeling this way? Since last night, when I ignored him? Since this morning, when I didn’t make him breakfast? Had he been sick when I spoke coldly to him before I went to lunch?

I went downstairs and filled a glass with water. I returned to the room and gave him the medicines according to the prescription. I covered him with his favorite blanket, turned the lamp on then left the room.

I went back to the kitchen to tidy up. When I saw the food, I realized I was very hungry.

-----

One-fifty, the clock boldly declared. Ten minutes before the next dose of medicines. I had closed the book I was reading and looked at his sleeping figure. I changed his shirt an hour ago when it got soaked with sweat. He was lying on his back, his mouth half-open. His snores, worsened by his asthma, punctuated the silence.

The sight was the same as this morning but now all I could feel was love. I don’t know why. For all his idiosyncrasies, for all his qualities I didn’t like, I couldn’t seem to hate him. When I saw him lying on the bathroom floor, feverish, when he held me tightly, his breath searing my neck, I knew right then and there that I really loved him.

Maybe he has grown on me. Maybe I’m stupid, too, for feeling this way. Or maybe I shouldn’t care and just concentrate on loving him the way he loved me, even though he didn’t please me all the time.

He kicked the covers off the bed again. I covered his chest then kissed his forehead. I prepared his next dose of medication as he opened his eyes, softly asking for my cold hands against his skin.

Comments are ♥♥♥

[Akame] A Cup of Coffee mixed with a packet of Doubt to go

2009-06-24T13:23:52Z

Title: A Cup of Coffee mixed with a packet of Doubt to go
Author: Rin
Pairing(s): Akanishi Jin x Kamenashi Kazuya
Rating: R / M / NC-17
Genre: Romance
Disclaimer: I could only wish.
Summary: While Jin and Kazuya mix drinks and coffee for their regular customers, they cannot help but doubt each others' feelings. Is this feeling closer to physical or emotional needs or something along the lines of what some people may call love?

Author's Note: This is the first part of my Butterfly Cafe series. The Butterfly Café is about this small café that Johnny (supposedly) runs during his free time. I mean, this is where he goes to have coffee or lunch or whatever. And as a repayment for being scouted or something, all of Johnny’s take turns in watching over the shop and serving tea and… and…
Whatever else it is they do in a café…

Kazuya looked in disgust when those women flirted with Jin. Couldn’t they see that Jin was gay, and therefore, not interested in them, and especially, not free for them to take? Idiots.

Jin looked slightly uncomfortable but played along. Kazuya knew that he needed to do it in order to keep customers coming, but it hurt. What if it wasn’t only an act?

Even worse was that guy sitting in the corner. He came every day, ordered an Irish coffee, and always wanted to order it from Kazuya. A couple of times Jin had tried to take the order but the reply had always been, “I’m still thinking” with a cold smile. Later, when Kazuya had asked, he had stated the same order as always before.

Yeah, thinking. Right. That was a pretty way to put it.

That guy had hair that was dyed red, a very lean frame and big eyes. Exactly the type Kazuya would have been attracted to earlier.

God, Jin really wished it was just earlier and not anymore. At least Kazuya always complained about the guy.

~~~

Kazuya had seen the way the women looked at Jin. He needed to admit that it wasn’t only Jin, but also him and basically any good-looking men. Still, them looking at Jin was the real matter.

It couldn’t be because of the occasional people that they kept coming back, to order those lattes and sherrys. Also, it should be fairly obvious to them that he didn’t have any interest in anybody but Jin.

Jin had believed to be straight for such a long time. Maybe he would reconsider his decision and promptly closet himself again? Maybe he would think that it all was a mistake and that, actually, he really preferred women’s gender and soft touch to Kazuya’s hands gripping his hips and Kazuya’s teeth biting his shoulder.

Maybe the need for something feminine and gentle was the real reason for Jin not ever wanting to tie him or to be tied?

At least those women should understand that they both couldn’t have Jin. While hunting for a man, two was a crowd.

Besides, it would be possible only over his dead body.

~~~

Kazuya loved topping Jin. It was fairly new and exciting, and completely wonderful.

He loved the feeling of thrusting inside Jin, and the feeling of his cock trapped in Jin. He also loved the feeling that Jin loved him enough to let him do it.

He hated the feeling the he might hurt Jin. Or that he might force Jin to do something he didn’t want to do.

He made love to Jin, tried to be as gentle as possible, and he tried to think what Jin might want, and he was more unsure than sure.

He wasn’t sure that Jin would stop him, and he couldn’t bear the thought of hurting.

~~~

There was nothing better in the whole world than being shoved against a wall, when Jin kissed him and groped him, and obviously wanted him badly.

Kazuya loved being pinned on the wall, with Jin biting and kissing and caressing and undressing him. Nobody else had ever been able to do that. All the others had been bottoms, who weren’t a match for him. They had let him do whatever he had wanted, and it had been plain boring.

It was just such a pity that Jin didn’t take him more often.

~~~

Jin decided that they needed to talk. Being unsure was driving him crazy.

He could, theoretically, bear the idea of losing Kazuya to someone else, but he would never do it voluntarily. Still, if sacrificing the relationship was needed in order not to sacrifice the friendship, he would do it.

He knew very well that there was no-one like him in the whole world for Kazuya, and that nobody could ever take his place even if Kazuya was shagging someone else. With someone else it would be shagging, with him it was making love.

Therefore, he could give away the sex. It was such a minor thing anyway, or so he wanted to think (until Kazuya’s fingers travelled down his chest followed by the tongue, and until he panted on the bed). His life hadn’t seen fun before Kazuya, and therefore, Kazuya was a necessity.

He had seen the glint in Kazuya’s eyes, when he pressed him against the wall, and there was always the possibility that Kazuya wanted it rough and that Kazuya wanted to be taken by someone stronger, and that Kazuya didn’t really want to have anybody but him.

They needed to talk.

~~~

When Kazuya came home and found Jin making curry (chicken, which had always been Kazuya’s favourite) and the chilled Riesling on the table to warm a bit, to make the petrol taste more, he rapidly tried to remember if he had forgotten some important day.

Unless Jin celebrated their six years, two months and 4 days of knowing each other, or maybe 4 years, 1 month and 25 days of relationship, he couldn’t figure out any suitable reason.

He walked to Jin, wrapped his arms around Jin’s waist and nuzzled his neck, “What’s the reason? Anything special?”

“Nothing special. I just thought that we could talk a bit and I decided to make an effort,” Jin smiled back, slightly tensely.

That tenseness made Kazuya worry. “Everything alright?” he asked. If Jin was making his favourite food and trying to take care that he got just the wine it wanted and served just the way he wanted it, it couldn’t be too bad, could it? Or was it just a very nice and gentle way to leave him? He really wanted to stop thinking.

“Everything is fine,” Jin smiled, but still not easily.

“Hell, is it something I’ve done?” Kazuya asked and continued, “Do you want to leave me and do it according to all the how-to-leave-your-boyfriend-gently guides?” He knew he sounded frantical, but he couldn’t avoid it.

“Me, leave, you?” Jin asked, abandoning the curry to the stove and turning to Kazuya, “I could never leave you.”

“Okay, good,” Kazuya smiled, “Now, tell me, what is this about, then?”

Jin turned slightly pink, then slightly darker pink, and gradually red, when he tried to utter any words.

“It can’t be that horrible. What do you want? Are you trying to persuade me or something?” Kazuya asked.

Finally Jin was able to say, “What would it sound if I told you that I was trying to persuade you to have me?”

Kazuya stared at him, eyes wide and mouth open, brain trying to work fast but not really understanding anything.

“Okay, then,” Jin started, trying to find the least embarrassing way of explaning he could, “I was afraid that you might want someone else. That boy in the corner table in the café, to be exact.”

“What? I mean, never. Didn’t I complain clearly enough about him?” Kazuya asked, still not really sure that Jin hadn’t lost his sense.

“Yeah, you complained, but I don’t know. He was just your type... I mean, your type before me, or something,” Jin tried to explain, still blushing furiously.

“So, he’s just my old type, but you are my type now, and I complain about him and he still tries to flirt, so you make the conclusion that I might want him?” Gee, Kazuya was sure that Jin used to be sensible and intelligent. Maybe he had misjudged, or maybe Jin had lost his mind in all the making drinks and serving coffee business.

“Yeah,” Jin replied, slihgtly sheepishly. “But hey, you asked if I wanted to leave you, so what the hell was that about?”

“Um, those women in the café...” Kazuya replied, understanding that he didn’t sound any more intelligent than Jin had sounded.

“Oh, great,” Jin wasn’t able to say anything else. He decided to hug Kazuya instead.

They had been really badly in need of a talk.

~~~

“Hey, Jin, do you know that I really like it when you take me?” Kazuya asked one evening, already quite sleepy.

“Yeah, I guess I know,” Jin replied.

“Then why don’t you do it more often? Don’t you like it?” Kazuya was slightly more awaken now.

“I like it. It’s not a matter of that. I guess, I’m afraid of hurting you or that you wouldn’t like it, after so many submissive partners,” Jin realized that it was surprisingly difficult to sensibly describe it.

“Stupid,” Kazuya said fondly, “I’m bored of those. I want you, and I want you to take me as hard and as often as you want to.”

“Okay, just tell me to stop if needed, promise?”

“Sure, good night.”

~~~

Jin backed Kazuya against the front door as soon as they were inside. It had been a long day and the customers even worse than normally. He had lost count of the flirting ones after one hour (and the count being somewhere around thirtyfive), and during the day five had tried to pinch Kazuya and three slap his ass. It didn’t matter how many had tried to do something to him, because only Kazuya mattered.

Oh yes, and then there had been that one pathetic guy who had also come to Kazuya, “I lost my keys, could you accomodate me for the night?”

Way too much for one day, and to be professional, he hadn’t had a chance to even hold Kazuya’s hand, let alone kiss him. The world was unfair. Except that it was him, and not anybody else, who walked with Kazuya, and who had the priviledge to press him to the wall, and kiss him, and open the zipper of his jeans, and see Kazuya writhe and hear the moans. It made him believe in the justice again.

Kazuya was his, and nobody could do anything with that. And he knew that Kazuya enjoyed it.

He took the scarf from around his neck and tied it around Kazuya’s hands. He was slightly stronger, not much but just enough to do that easily, especially, when it was sudden and surprising.

It gave so many new possibilities, when Kazuya was a bit more helpless.

He loved struggle for dominance, but even more, he loved the slightly shifty look in Kazuya’s eyes, when Kazuya gave up. He also loved the way he knew Kazuya would beg.

He dropped Kazuya’s already open jeans, and get more room to caress and touch. He did it slowly and with only the barest touch to drive Kazuya desperate. He sucked the side of Kazuya’s throat, and bit a bit. There was the small spot, just under the neck, and just between two bones, that he knew Kazuya would love him to lick. He avoided it, to ensure that Kazuya would beg slightly faster.

There was always the one minor, or actually, quite major problem while teasing Kazuya. He couldn’t really avoid getting hot and horny, and wanting to just put Kazuya on the floor, strip away all his clothes, put the condom on, prepare Kazuya fast and thrust in.

But that would take the fun away.

Jin just concentrated on small detail, like Kazuya’s nipples, or the interesting structures of his bones, or the angle of his jaw, or the white stripe in black boxers, or anything, that could distract him from the general picture that was just too good not to be shagged immediately.

He pressed Kazuya’s together tied hands just over the head to give his own free hand as much area to move as possible.

He trailed his fingers along the muscle on Kazuya’s thigh, and had he been in any stage to actually think, he would have wondered, how he ever thought that he might be happy with a woman. Or how he ever thought that he might be happy with anyone else but Kazuya.

That was when he made the big mistake of looking at Kazuya’s mouth. Lips parted and slightly moist, head thrown back, tongue visible behind teeth. Jin couldn’t remember if he had ever seen anything equally sexy. Kazuya’s presence tended to do him that. Even with a half-working brain he could have remembered that the last time had been the previous evening, and also then he had wondered, if it had been the sexiest thing he had ever seen.

“Bedroom, now,” Jin whispered, not really knowing why he was whispering instead of speaking with the normal voice.

He untied Kazuya’s hands, because he needed Kazuya’s fingers digging in his sides, and pulling him closer and deeper, and occasionally turning his head to make his neck more vulnerable.

He undid the buttons of his own shirt, and his belt on the way to the bedroom. He shrugged the shirt off of him, and undid his jeans, and dropped them to the floor beside the bed before finally Jinng off his underwear, and even socks.

Socks weren’t necessary, but they were a ritual for him. He wanted to tease himself, and to check if he had much enough patience left to take off the socks. He hadn’t failed yet, but it was never easy, and, not very surprisingly, it didn’t become easier with practice, merely harder.

He went to get the lube and condoms from the bedside locker. (Kazuya had once laughed that actually every room should have its own supply of those, but as of now, the only ones were in the bedroom.)

He needed Kazuya so badly. He didn’t think he could be fast enough. He threw the lube to Kazuya, knowing that Kazuya liked to prepare himself and knowing that it would at least make everything a bit faster. Besides, he enjoyed the view.

He wrapped the condom on before going to the bed. He nibbled Kazuya’s jaw line. “You ready?” he finally asked.

“I need you,” Kazuya replied.

Jin thrusted in slowly. He was so close already. Fortunately, Kazuya wasn’t much behind, so it wouldn’t be a catastrophe if he came immediately. Slightly embarrassing, maybe, but Kazuya could take it as a compliment.

Maybe he shouldn’t worry about it. Problems had ways of solving themselves. Besides, there were greater problems in life and bigger things to worry than coming too soon because of being able to shag the sexiest man on earth.

*please be a dear and leave a comment. :3 this is my first fic published online.
** The series was supposed to be named Johnny's Cafe but it was a bit... overrated. don't you think?
*** Anyone want to request who's next? ^~^