9 1/2 Weeks - 03 - (Week 1: Wednesday)
Dec. 26th, 2012 11:16 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Week 1: Wednesday
Kamenashi calls late on Wednesday morning.
"I'll be there at three, maybe three ten."
"How do you even have my number?" Jin says. He sure didn't give it to him.
"See you then."
The line goes dead.
Well, okay. Jin's got a clean t-shirt. He's vacuumed for the first time in two months. He's got the next, equally meaningless song looked out. He's shoved anything to do with his family inside the one cupboard.
He's ready.
When Kamenashi appears, he casts a look around, nods approvingly at the floor, and deigns to step out of his pretty shoes.
"Better," he says, and suddenly Jin is more pissed off.
He grabs his guitar, goes for the chair, Kamenashi's got five minutes and they can start right now.
But he's barely sat down when Kamenashi frowns. It stops him somehow; it's a sharp frown.
"What?"
Kamenashi's focus is unnerving, and disapproving. Then he pulls out his phone and starts thumbing through whatever, motioning with his head. "Go shave. I'm not paying to look at that."
For real? Jin hates himself a little for feeling his chin before stopping to think. Kamenashi gets to have opinions about his looks now, does he?
Kamenashi is reading something on his phone, tapping the screen twice. Scheming, organizing. He looks like he owns the world.
Jin shaves when he sees the kids, because Sara doesn't like the stubble. But that's nothing like Kamenashi—
Kamenashi looks up. The look reminds Jin that he's shaved for bosses, too, real and potential ones, ones that never happened, ones that lasted for a week. Hated it every time.
"I wanted to get back sometime today," Kamenashi says.
Fine. Best hourly wage since 2010 and he's not going to have a fight over his facial hair. Who even cares.
And he doesn't, not really. It's like meditation, the door closed and the minutes ticking down. Kamenashi out there taking care of business. Just the scrape of the razor, he can't hear the phone tapping or anything.
He's not going to waste Kamenashi's time on purpose but it's no use if he cuts himself.
Finally he dries off, checks; only a little red. He smears the lotion on like always, and then he's done.
Kamenashi hasn't moved, but he looks up again.
"And?" Jin says, dramatically so before Kamenashi can even smirk.
"That's better too," Kamenashi says calmly. He pockets the phone.
Well, excellent. They can get on with it. Can they?
Kamenashi nods, and Jin sits down with his guitar. Feels the strings, takes breath to launch into Hot Dogs in Central Park.
And Kamenashi says, "A Page."
That fucking, fucking bastard.
Jin knows he's flushed, hot and red and betraying, but he lets it wash over him, swallows down the protest. A week's rent. More than that, not that Kamenashi will ever know.
He can do this.
You and I... No, he can do this. He can sing those lines.
It's a mess. It's got so many words, words he's tried not to think of in a decade, words that aren't coming back. It's not an easy song to do acoustic anyway.
It doesn't help that less than a verse in, Kamenashi pushes himself off the wall and wanders towards him, and that chord's off like fuck when Kamenashi's fingers brush his face.
Checking Jin's shave, maybe, but Jin's busy. Busy trying to remember that he prayed for protection, that he was in the light and loved and right.
You and I, all the time, it goes on for fucking ever. There's nobody there now.
Kamenashi is touching his jaw; light enough it doesn't interfere, and good, because Jin's not going to start over.
Forgive me that slip, and then it all goes too fast, it went too fast, and Kamenashi's touching his hair and Jin's not sure if he even notices the la la las Jin is sticking in the English because he can't get his head to play along.
And then he's done. Kamenashi carefully pushes that strand of his hair behind his ear and steps back.
"That was pretty awful," he says.
"You try to remember that many words for over ten years," Jin spits out. "Next time, ask for something easier."
"Next time," Kamenashi says, "practise."
Jin's such a mess. Boiling over. But this shit goes both ways, he remembers that.
"Oh, yeah? So, what do you want to hear," he says. "Next time."
And there's that pause again, but it's not like Kamenashi can back away now, or even wait too long because that would be telling too. And right enough.
"Practise Care," he says.
Yeah. Jin swallows back something hot and biting, but he feels better now. They can both enjoy that one.
Kamenashi pretends nothing's off, he's just fine, digging through his wallet instead. He drops some cash on the crowded bookcase. "Your fee, plus ten thousand. Next time, I want you to have a proper hair cut."
Jin bites his lip. He can tell Kamenashi where to shove his money. Or he can take the ten, get a hair cut for two, and spend the rest on another zoo trip. With ice cream.
Kamenashi slips into his pretty shoes and gets out his BMW car keys. "See you next week," he says. For a moment he's a total stranger. Just some rich, thirty-something guy who has nothing to do with the holes in Jin's life and the ache in his heart.
"Okay," Jin says. And the door clicks shut.
Week 1: Wednesday
Kamenashi calls late on Wednesday morning.
"I'll be there at three, maybe three ten."
"How do you even have my number?" Jin says. He sure didn't give it to him.
"See you then."
The line goes dead.
Well, okay. Jin's got a clean t-shirt. He's vacuumed for the first time in two months. He's got the next, equally meaningless song looked out. He's shoved anything to do with his family inside the one cupboard.
He's ready.
When Kamenashi appears, he casts a look around, nods approvingly at the floor, and deigns to step out of his pretty shoes.
"Better," he says, and suddenly Jin is more pissed off.
He grabs his guitar, goes for the chair, Kamenashi's got five minutes and they can start right now.
But he's barely sat down when Kamenashi frowns. It stops him somehow; it's a sharp frown.
"What?"
Kamenashi's focus is unnerving, and disapproving. Then he pulls out his phone and starts thumbing through whatever, motioning with his head. "Go shave. I'm not paying to look at that."
For real? Jin hates himself a little for feeling his chin before stopping to think. Kamenashi gets to have opinions about his looks now, does he?
Kamenashi is reading something on his phone, tapping the screen twice. Scheming, organizing. He looks like he owns the world.
Jin shaves when he sees the kids, because Sara doesn't like the stubble. But that's nothing like Kamenashi—
Kamenashi looks up. The look reminds Jin that he's shaved for bosses, too, real and potential ones, ones that never happened, ones that lasted for a week. Hated it every time.
"I wanted to get back sometime today," Kamenashi says.
Fine. Best hourly wage since 2010 and he's not going to have a fight over his facial hair. Who even cares.
And he doesn't, not really. It's like meditation, the door closed and the minutes ticking down. Kamenashi out there taking care of business. Just the scrape of the razor, he can't hear the phone tapping or anything.
He's not going to waste Kamenashi's time on purpose but it's no use if he cuts himself.
Finally he dries off, checks; only a little red. He smears the lotion on like always, and then he's done.
Kamenashi hasn't moved, but he looks up again.
"And?" Jin says, dramatically so before Kamenashi can even smirk.
"That's better too," Kamenashi says calmly. He pockets the phone.
Well, excellent. They can get on with it. Can they?
Kamenashi nods, and Jin sits down with his guitar. Feels the strings, takes breath to launch into Hot Dogs in Central Park.
And Kamenashi says, "A Page."
That fucking, fucking bastard.
Jin knows he's flushed, hot and red and betraying, but he lets it wash over him, swallows down the protest. A week's rent. More than that, not that Kamenashi will ever know.
He can do this.
You and I... No, he can do this. He can sing those lines.
It's a mess. It's got so many words, words he's tried not to think of in a decade, words that aren't coming back. It's not an easy song to do acoustic anyway.
It doesn't help that less than a verse in, Kamenashi pushes himself off the wall and wanders towards him, and that chord's off like fuck when Kamenashi's fingers brush his face.
Checking Jin's shave, maybe, but Jin's busy. Busy trying to remember that he prayed for protection, that he was in the light and loved and right.
You and I, all the time, it goes on for fucking ever. There's nobody there now.
Kamenashi is touching his jaw; light enough it doesn't interfere, and good, because Jin's not going to start over.
Forgive me that slip, and then it all goes too fast, it went too fast, and Kamenashi's touching his hair and Jin's not sure if he even notices the la la las Jin is sticking in the English because he can't get his head to play along.
And then he's done. Kamenashi carefully pushes that strand of his hair behind his ear and steps back.
"That was pretty awful," he says.
"You try to remember that many words for over ten years," Jin spits out. "Next time, ask for something easier."
"Next time," Kamenashi says, "practise."
Jin's such a mess. Boiling over. But this shit goes both ways, he remembers that.
"Oh, yeah? So, what do you want to hear," he says. "Next time."
And there's that pause again, but it's not like Kamenashi can back away now, or even wait too long because that would be telling too. And right enough.
"Practise Care," he says.
Yeah. Jin swallows back something hot and biting, but he feels better now. They can both enjoy that one.
Kamenashi pretends nothing's off, he's just fine, digging through his wallet instead. He drops some cash on the crowded bookcase. "Your fee, plus ten thousand. Next time, I want you to have a proper hair cut."
Jin bites his lip. He can tell Kamenashi where to shove his money. Or he can take the ten, get a hair cut for two, and spend the rest on another zoo trip. With ice cream.
Kamenashi slips into his pretty shoes and gets out his BMW car keys. "See you next week," he says. For a moment he's a total stranger. Just some rich, thirty-something guy who has nothing to do with the holes in Jin's life and the ache in his heart.
"Okay," Jin says. And the door clicks shut.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-12-27 08:52 am (UTC)Yeah, awkward seems to be our thing. But aren't most interactions awkward if people are unsure of each other?
We LOVE (!!!) your comment about Kame's creepy touching - not sure he knows himself what it is and Jin certainly doesn't. How would it help Jin? Not really at all...
There will be more. :)))