Driven (Pin, AU, NC-17) [2/3]

[maayacolabackup]

***

Yamashita is carrying a large box in his arms when Jin pulls into the parking lot at 3 AM, Tokyo Tower lit up like a blazing beacon surging up into the sky. He looks like a prince walking toward Jin’s cab, with the way the lights lend him an ethereal glow even in the deepest part of the night. His face is streaked with shimmery make-up, and his eyes are rimmed with dark eyeliner. He looks even more striking than usual, especially in the dim light of Jin’s headlights. The box doesn’t seem heavy in Yamashita’s arms, but considering that Yamashita has these huge muscles that make Jin feel like a toothpick, he doesn’t know what that means about the box’s actual weight. A swath of bright fabric is sticking out of the top, glittering with sequins and rhinestones, and Jin raises an interested eyebrow at Yamashita, who has stopped in front of the taxi, shifting the box in his arms.

“You don’t even want to know what terrible things are in this box,” Yamashita tells him with a wry expression on his face. “Like, seriously, untold horrors.”

Jin snorts. “It looks like Aladdin is in that box.” He pops the trunk to the car, and climbs out. The night is humid and hot, and it feels like Jin has stepped into a steam room as he leaves the comfortable air conditioning of his cab.

Yamashita laughs heartily. “It would be better if there was someone in the box who could deal with its contents. Instead it’s just me and some of the guys.”

Suddenly Yamashita’s grip slips, and the box starts to tumble out of his arms, and Jin reacts out of habit. He catches the box almost immediately. Yamashita whistles. “Damn, your reflexes are fast,” he says, and Jin ducks his head. Of course he has fast reflexes, he drives for a living.

A breeze blows by, and Jin shivers a bit from the unfamiliar feel of air on his bare skin, and realizes he’s left his jacket in the car.

Yamashita’s eyes shift over to rest on him. “It’s like a million degrees out today. Are you cold?” he asks, and then his eyes focus onto Jin’s bared arms.

“What’s this from?” Yamashita says, fingertips ghosting over the scar revealed by Jin’s tank shirt. The mark extends down to his elbow and disappears up into his shirt. Jin shifts away uncomfortably, and Yamashita pulls back quickly. “It looks like a burn.”

“Reckless driving,” Jin says shortly, wishing he was still wearing his jacket despite the pulsing heat. He doesn’t look at Yamashita.

“You can speed in this taxi, Akanishi?” Yamashita asks, hand patting the car fondly. “Doesn’t seem like she’d be very fast.”

“I wasn’t always a taxi driver,” Jin says quietly, and he doesn’t want to talk about it. Yamashita gets the message, he must, because he closes the trunk without another word, leaving Jin staring into space as he climbs into the back of the car.

Jin shakes himself, and hops back into the drivers seat. “Home?” he asks, his voice genial, as if the previous exchange hasn’t just just happened. Yamashita is quiet for a moment, and then he seems to get the idea. “Oh, wait a minute. Two of my...friends are coming with us.”

“One of them isn’t Kamenashi, right?” Jin doesn’t really mind Kamenashi, but he’s something Jin’s shaken nerves don’t want to deal with right now.

Yamashita chuckles. “No, Kame doesn’t really work with us. We’re under the same umbrella, but we hardly ever do projects together. Ah! There they are!” Yamashita leans out the window, waving furiously at the two men who are approaching the taxi. “Here, guys!”

The two men pile into the back seat, and then in Jin’s rearview mirror, there are three shimmering, exhausted faces looking back at him. “Akanishi, this is Nishikido,” he says, pointing to his left, “and Tegoshi.” Both men are looking at Yamashita like he’s crazy, but Jin just shrugs.

“Nice to meet you,” Jin says, and then catches Yamashita’s eyes in the mirror. His lashes are thick and clumped together with the remnants of mascara, and Jin can’t help but stare, just a little, into those whirling dark eyes again. “Where are we headed, Yamashita?”

The small dark one, Nishikido, has his jaw a little open, but the other one, the cherubic-faced blond, has a calculating expression in his eyes. Yamashita seems oblivious to the atmosphere in the cab, and Jin’s still feeling a little off from the incident by the trunk, so he doesn’t know quite how to adjust it yet. “Take us to Shibuya, near the bars,” Yamashita says, and Jin chuckles.

“Had a rough day at your mysterious job, Yamashita?”

“You could say that,” he grins, and Nishikido is silent. But Tegoshi is flicking his eyes back and forth between them with interest.

“It looks like you’ve all been molested by clowns,” Jin quips as he starts the car and presses the button on the fare box to start that too. Nishikido snorts. “I FEEL like I’ve been molested by clowns,” he says, and that breaks the tense atmosphere, finally, as they all laugh. “I need three shots of tequila, a cigarette, and a sexy girl to dance with, in that order.”

Jin likes Nishikido much better than Kamenashi, he thinks, as he pulls out onto the main road. Someone who he could see himself chatting with easily. He can’t get a read on the other new guy, Tegoshi, but he laughs and jokes with Nishikido and Yamashita all the way until he turns onto a street that’s alive with people. 3 AM is not too late to start partying in Shibuya, and stereo-bass is filling the streets as people tumble in and out of bars and nightclubs. “Where do you want me to stop?” Jin asks, and Yamashita smiles. “Anywhere is fine. Here is fine. We can walk this whole area no problems,” he responds, and Jin nods.

Yamashita hands him a bill, and Jin counts out the change slowly, before he notices that Yamashita is nodding his head that it’s unnecessary. “Don’t worry about it,” Yamashita says. “And thanks for coming,” he adds. Nishikido is tapping his foot impatiently as Yamashita leans into Jin’s passenger side window.

“Yamapi, let’s go,” he says, and Tegoshi is quiet beside them.

“Alright, alright,” Yamashita laughs, and starts to move backward.

“Akanishi, why don’t you come with us?” Tegoshi says suddenly, and Nishikido and Yamashita look at him like he’s grown another head.

“He’s working,” Yamashita says, and Jin can’t see what expression is in his eyes but whatever it is makes Tegoshi look a little triumphant.

“You’re your own boss, right Akanishi?” Tegoshi says sweetly.

Jin grins easily, but his insides are coiled tight with discomfort and surprise. “Yeah, but I’m a harsh task-master, always cracking the whip. I’ve still got three more hours of work before I can even think about calling it a night.”

Yamashita’s shoulders unclench, and Jin feels a small quiver in his belly. Nishikido is staring at Tegoshi now, though, and that makes Jin uncomfortable too. Tegoshi leans into the window now, so only Jin can hear him. “Yamapi doesn’t make friends, Akanishi. I want to know what’s so special about you,” he hisses, and Jin wonders how many weird, questionably sane coworkers Yamashita has at whatever bizarre office he works at. Jin’s already counted two, and he swears he’s only met Yamashita like four times. Jin gulps.

“Nothing’s special about me. I’m just a guy who drives a taxi, and happened to pick that guy up one day.”

“And now he refuses to ride in any taxi but yours,” Tegoshi rebutts. “And before that, we couldn’t get him into taxis at all.”

Jin shrugs again, feeling like he’s sitting an exam but he doesn’t know any of the answers. “I don’t know, I’m sorry.”

Tegoshi nods, and pulls his head out of the car. “Alright, let’s go,” Yamashita says, and Jin drives off. But Yamashita, he notices in his side-view mirror, is still watching his cab even as he drives around the corner.

***

Sometimes, Jin wakes up screaming from his sleep, feeling like he’s burning alive.

Those nights, he gets up and examines his bare chest in the bathroom mirror, and runs his hands over the marred flesh of his torso. He traces the outline of the burn that covers his heart, and follows it to its end, right under his ribs. It’s like he’s touching his own mortality.

Jin never goes back to sleep on those nights, because he knows he’ll just have the same nightmare again and again, because it’s not a nightmare at all, it’s a memory.

***

“I looked you up on the Internet,” Yamashita says quietly, and Jin’s fingers clench around the steering wheel with some feeling he can’t quite place. “You’re a famous race car driver.”

“I’m a taxi driver,” Jin says, but he knows that Yamashita’s statement is also true.

“That’s why you look so familiar,” Yamashita continues. “Because you used to sell cornflakes on TV, and because my little sister used to have a poster of you on her wall when she was fifteen.”

Jin is biting his tongue so hard he thinks it might be bleeding. “I’m a taxi driver,” he repeats.

“How can you be happy as a taxi driver?” Yamashita demands. “How is this enough?”

“Because I’m alive,” Jin says. “Because I don’t want to race anymore. Because I can drive every day, and not wonder if this will be the last time I get behind the wheel of a car.” Jin’s whole body is shaking, and he pulls over onto the shoulder of the road. He gets out of the car and lights a cigarette. Yamashita gets out too. He stands next to Jin, back leaning against the taxi.

“Akanishi, why don’t you race anymore? Is the injury that bad?” Yamashita isn’t looking at him, and that makes it easier for Jin to speak.

“Because I just don’t want to race anymore.”

“And that has nothing to do with your near-fatal accident?”

“No, I’m totally fine,” Jin says. “Just burns on my shoulder and arm. No nerve damage. Nothing that would keep me from—I just don’t want to race.”

“So you’re afraid? Lost your taste for it?”

“Why are we talking about this?” Jin asks, putting his cigarette out and lighting another. His hair is sticking to the back of his neck with sweat. Even in the middle of the night it’s so hot. Jin doesn’t take of his jacket, because he can see his scars even with it on.

“I’m curious,” Yamashita replies, still pointedly looking into the distance, and not directly at Jin. “I’m so curious about you. I want…I think I want to be your friend, but sometimes I can’t understand you.”

Jin scowls. “Look, I didn’t search you on the Internet to find out whatever it is about you that you don’t want me to know. That’s not how friendship works.”

Yamashita winces. “I’m sorry,” he says, and then he gets in the car. Jin gets in five minutes later.

“It’s okay,” he says, and looks into his mirror to meet Yamashita’s eyes. “I just…can’t talk about this. Not yet.” Yamashita nods, and looks down at his hands.

“Jin, about me. I…”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Jin says. “I don’t need to know all your secrets. I can be your friend without it, whatever it is. You must have a reason for not saying. I’ll trust you that it’s not illegal, and leave it at that.”

Jin revs the engine. It’s not a racing engine, but it’s steady and strong. Jin thinks engine purrs are like his heartbeat, pushing the blood through his body because this is the thing he’s good at. The hum of the machine gives him the courage to look at Yamashita again. “It’s not illegal, right?”

And Yamashita grins. “Not at all,” he answers, and they smile. Jin drives a little faster than usual, and pretends not to notice how Yamashita watches his hands shifting the gears.

“You want to get some donuts?” Jin asks, into the comfortable silence.

“Only if they’re Krispy Kremes,” Yamashita answers, and Jin beams at the open road.

Jin’s taxi is not a race car, but Jin knows how to coax her faster and faster, and Yamashita is lounging unconcerned in the backseat. “Is it okay to drive this fast?” Jin asks.

“I trust you,” Yamashita says, and adrenaline coils in the pit of Jin’s stomach, just like it used to when he was about to challenge a track record.


***

“Hey Jin, can you pick me up? I can’t get to my car,” Yamashita breahes heavily into the phone, and Jin is sitting on his bed in his pajamas about to go to sleep but he can’t say no.

“Yeah, where are you?” he asks, and Yamashita huffs out a quick answer. Jin knows the place, and he doesn’t bother to change, just throws on a sweatshirt and a baseball cap and heads out the door.

When he finds Yamashita, he’s surrounded by about thirty people waving cameras in his face and shoving microphones closer to him in case he says something. He’s got his arms up around his face and he’s glancing around anxiously. His eyes light up when he sees Jin’s car though, and he sort of shoves through the throng of people and half-jumps, half-crawls into the backseat. “Oh thank God,” he says, and Jin is reminded of their first meeting.

“Where to?” he asks, and Yamashita presses his lips into a thin line.

“Not my apartment,” he says, and scratches his neck. “There will be more of them—“ he gestures at the crowd of reporters and photographers. “More of them at my place. Anywhere else.”

Jin thinks for a minute. “Okay, I know a place,” he says, and he takes Yamashita to his apartment.

“Where are we?”

“Yeah, I live here,” Jin says, and Yamashita’s eyes widen, but then he sighs, a tiny relieved sigh. “I figured they might not look for you here, of all places.”

Yamashita nods.

Yamashita is shaking as Jin unlocks the door to his apartment, and Jin looks at him calmly before leading him right to the futon in his living room. He pulls it out into a bed, and they both lay down side by side, about two feet between them.

“I’m really afraid of those people,” Yamashita says quietly. “I’m really afraid of them.”

“Why are the paparazzi following you?”

Yamashita exhales. “I’m an idol. With Johnny’s.” Jin snorts, but Yamashita’s face is serious.

“Wait, really?” It’s like all the pieces of the puzzle click into place all at once. Yamashita’s weird hours, his strange outfits, his hair. The way he nervously keeps expecting to be recognized. The reason why Jin can’t drop him off directly at work.

“Yeah,” Yamashita says. “Yeah, really,” and then he’s laughing but then his laughing turns into some sort of dry sobbing, and he isn’t crying but Jin wants to hug him anyway. Jin doesn’t, because it would be weird and he doesn’t even know Yamashita’s first name.  “My co-star from my newest movie just killed himself,” Yamashita says. “And I’m supposed to know why? I’m supposed to have something to say?” Yamashita clenches his hands in Jin’s sheets. “I don’t know why,” Yamashita continues. “I didn’t know him very well. He was just a coworker. But anything I say will be blown out of context. It’s best if I don’t say anything at all for a while.”

“You’re a movie star?” Jin asks dumbly, because really, how did he not recognize a movie star?

“I’m a singer,” Yamashita says. “In the band NewS. You sing along to my voice in the car sometimes.” Yamashita is staring at the ceiling, his voice becoming more steady and the quivers in his body calming minute by minute. “I sometimes do dramas and movies.”

“I guess that’s why you wear sunglasses at night,” Jin muses aloud, and Yamapi laughs at him incredulously.

“Is that all you have to say?”

“No matter how famous you are—“ Jin starts.

“I’m really, really famous,” Yamashita interjects, turning his head to look at Jin, and Jin narrows his eyes at him.

“Anyway, no matter how famous you are, you’re still the dork with the stupid perm who doesn’t know anything about his own car that’s laying on my bed hiding under the covers because he’s afraid of some people with cameras.”

Yamashita grins at him weakly. “I guess I am,” he says softly.

“We’re both pretty messed up, huh?”

“Tell me about your accident,” Yamashita says, and Jin’s stomach rolls.

They don’t speak for minutes, and Jin feels restless, that itch to be behind the wheel tingling in his arms and chest. “Let’s go for a drive,” he says at last, and Yamashita looks at him, and then closes his eyes. “Okay,” he agrees. Jin grabs the keys to his personal car, a black Honda Civic that’s seen better days.

Yamashita gets in the front passenger seat, and Jin realizes it’s the first time they’ve been side by side in a car. He likes it.

He drives for three hours until they’re far on the outskirts of town. It’s noon when Jin stops for gas.

“Where are we?” Yamashita asks, his voice thick with sleep. Even with the dark circles under his eyes, and his terrible perm askew from the strange angle he slept on it, Yamashita is beautiful.

“We’re not there yet, Yamashita. I’m just getting gas.”

‘But where are we going?” Yamashita stretches and stands next to Jin as he pumps the gas. “And call me Yamapi. Or Tomohisa. Not Yamashita.”

Tomohisa. Jin rolls it around in his mouth. Tomohisa. Yamashita Tomohisa. Yamapi. That’s what Kamenashi called him. Yamapi.

“Okay,” Jin says, “But you have to call me Jin.”

Yamashita…Yamapi’s mouth twitches.  “You’ve been Jin in my head for a while,” he admits, and Jin feels a flutter in his chest, one he knows shouldn’t be there, can’t be there, but he can’t help it.

When they reach Jin’s destination, Yamapi surveys the scene with an open mouth. “Wow,” he says. “Jin, this is beautiful.”

“This is near my hometown,” Jin says, and closes his eyes. This in Jin’s favorite smell in the whole world—the smell of wheat blowing in the summer breeze. He likes it even more than the smell of engine oil, because it reminds him of playing soccer with his friends, of childhood, of free summers and of being happy. Whenever he smells this smell Jin can imagine being happy again someday.

“It’s…wow,” Yamapi says again, and Jin laughs, and gestures to Yamapi to follow him.

Jin leads Yamapi to the center of the wheat field, and plops down, laying on his back and spreading his arms wide, as if he’s trying to embrace the sky. Yamapi stares at him for a moment, before mimicking him.

“I came here a lot to think, in the first couple of months after I got out of the hospital,” Jin says, breaking the silence. He can’t look at Yamapi, he can’t look at him and talk about it at the same time. This is the first time Jin’s even tried to talk to anyone.

He’s thought about it a lot. Here, and driving in his taxi around the entire city of Tokyo, wondering what he’s going to do with the rest of his life if he can’t race. Driving a taxi is good, but it’s not racing. It’s interesting but not enthralling. It’s like racing is Jin’s first love, and driving a taxi is his rebound chick. He knows he can’t drive a taxi forever.

“I’m a really good driver,” Jin says. “I’m always in perfect control of the car. Always.” He gulps. “But that time, I wasn’t. I don’t know what happened.”

Jin’s hands sink into the soil, squeezing it tightly and feeling it slide up under his nails and cling to the lines in his palm.

“The next thing I can remember is being on fire. Burning and I couldn’t breathe, and the smoke was closing in around me. I thought I was going to die.”

Jin can still feel it sometimes. He still feels like his skin is on fire, like his lungs are fighting harder and harder to glean oxygen from the heavy, clouded air. Like he has to claw his way out all over again.

The words stick in his throat, but he forces them out. “It’s fine when I’m in a regular car,” he says. “But when I’m in a stock car…” Jin shudders. “But I want it so bad,” he whispers. “I want it so bad.”

Yamapi rolls over, and Jin finally looks at him, and he’s so close. He’s just staring at Jin, his eyes fathomless and black, so black, that Jin feels like he’s going to sink into them and emerge in another galaxy.

“I guess we both need to be brave.” Yamapi whispers. Jin closes his eyes, and the smell of the wheat envelops him in peace. Yamapi throws an arm over Jin’s waist, and Jin can feel his sweaty skin even through his t-shirt.

“Sometimes I hate that I have no control.” Yamapi’s breath is hot on Jin’s shoulder. “Only people watching me.” Yamapi’s voice sounds smaller than Jin has ever heard it.  “Someone died, and instead of mourning, and letting his family mourn, they’re hunting me down to see how I feel?”

“Like a really fast car,” Jin says, his hands still clawing at the dirt. “You can’t control it at all.”

“But I’m in the passenger seat,” Yamapi says. “Someone else is driving and it’s terrifying.”

Jin’ eyes are staring at the blue sky above him now, fixing on a cloud that’s shaped a bit like a stock car, rounded top and weighted wing on the back.

“When I’m with you, though, I feel like I’m behind the wheel. Because you don’t expect anything from me. It’s nice.” Yamapi chuckles, and the sound reverberates through Jin’s ribs. “Maybe I should quit being an idol.”

“What would you do?” Jin asks.

“Maybe I’ll become a bus driver,” Yamapi replies, still chuckling. “What do you think?”

Jin turns his face toward Yamapi’s. It’s so close they can feel each other’s breath as they exhale. Jin’s stomach is suddenly in knots, and he realizes he wants to kiss Yamapi.

But he can’t summon the courage to cross the slight distance. It’s just like the idea of climbing into a race car again, for Jin, in that the idea fills him with paralyzing terror.

Jin is such a coward. “You should do whatever you want.”

They drive back to Tokyo in the middle of the night. When Jin stops in front of Yamapi’s apartment, there are no paparazzi waiting for him. “Thanks,” Yamapi says, and Jin smiles.

“No problem,” he says, and then lights a cigarette.

“How much was fare?” Yamapi asks, and Jin’s smile tentatively gets a bit bigger.

“This one was on the house.”

There’s something, in Yamapi’s eyes, something that makes Jin want Yamapi to get back into the car, something that makes Jin’s blood feel like liquid fire. But Jin has a fear of burning alive. ”I’ll see you,” Jin says thickly, and hands shaking, he starts the car. The engine revs to life, and Yamapi steps back as Jin drives away, his figure becoming a shadow in the streetlights.

***

Jin drags Yuu and Josh with him to see Yamapi’s movie. Yamapi doesn’t tell him about the movie, but Jin, now that he knows to look for it, sees Yamapi’s face everywhere.

He finds out about the movie when he’s buying a coke at the convenience store at 2 AM. The trailer is playing on the mini-TV in the window, and Jin wants…Jin wants to know what Yamapi does. He wants to see him doing what he loves. He wants to know why Yamapi sticks with it all, even when it makes him so miserable sometimes.He wants to know what he should say the next time Yamapi asks him if he should become a bus driver.

“What’s this about?” Josh bugs him when they’re in line for tickets. “This is so weird of you to want to see a movie.”

Jin bites his lip. “I just…want to see this one.” Jin flushes, because he sucks at being deceptive.

Josh’s eyes narrow at him, and Yuu is now listening to the whole conversation curiously. “Why are you blushing?” Josh asks with disbelief. “Do you have a crush on the main actor, or something? Don’t say just because, I always know when you’re lying.”

Jin turns an even deeper red, and he can feel Yuu and Josh exchanging glances over his head. “It’s nothing,” Jin insists. “You didn’t have to come,” he mutters.

Josh shakes his head. “You threw us into the car and told us we were going to see a movie. I was so confused at the idea of us doing something fun that I had no time to protest.”

“I do fun stuff!” Jin replies, but he knows it’s not true.

“Playing with Lina does not count, Jin,” Yuu says. “You drive a taxi, and sleep. You don’t go to movies on weekdays for no reason. We’re just curious.”

“I have a crush on the main actor,” Jin says, and they both laugh at him, thinking he’s joking to misdirect them. But Jin feels like a weight has been lifted off his chest to admit it.

“Okay dude, whatever,” Josh says, and they watch the movie.

It’s got a lot of big action scenes, and explosions, and drama, and there’s a romance plot woven through the whole thing, and Yuu and Josh rave about it the whole way home, but all Jin can focus on, the whole movie, is Yamapi’s eyes, which have this amazing ability to steal his every thought. Jin thought it only worked in person, but he was wrong. Those eyes are endless pools, and Jin gets lost in the depths.

***

Jin is driving Yamapi to a meeting. “I saw your movie yesterday,” Jin says, and Yamapi jumps.

“What?”

“I went to the theater, for a first time in a year, and watched a movie, and it was your movie.”Jin keeps his eyes straight ahead, and doesn’t even glance into his rear-view mirror.

Yamapi clears his throat. “And?” His voice is tight, and Jin can’t tell if he’s angry or nervous.

“Josh and Yuu loved it,” Jin says.

“Like I give a fuck. What did you think?” Yamapi asks, and Jin chances a look back. Yamapi is looking out the window, his exquisite profile glowing in the sun. Jin gulps. Yamapi, he notices, is biting his lip. Not angry, then.

“I think...you shouldn’t quit acting.” Jin doesn’t want to say that he liked how alive Yamapi’s eyes look on screen, that he loves the way his lashes flutter, and there’s so much emotion buried in them. That he felt the character’s pain just because he could see it, in those eyes, that seem dead at first glance but burn when you look closer. Jin thinks that might be saying more than should be said, more than it’s normal to say. “You’re good at it, and it would be a shame if you stopped, just because of the other stuff, the stuff out of your control.”

Yamapi meets his eyes in the mirror, and for Jin, it feels like an echo of the first time their eyes ever met, with a snarking Kamenashi pouting on the seat next to Yamashita. Jin feels the same butterflies, the same tight cord of destiny.

“Who are you to tell me that?” Yamapi asks, and his tone is light but his words hit deep.

“Yeah,” Jin says.

The rest of the trip is silent, until Jin pulls the car over at their destination, a quiet office building in the middle of a company complex. “My movie was the first movie you’ve seen in a year?”

Jin nods, swallowing hard. “Well, yeah. Cause...it was you.”

Yamapi smiles, and Jin smiles back. “You know,” Yamapi says, “I’ve got a CD that came out last month too.”

Jin scowls at him. “Get out of my car, salesman,” Jin says. “I’ve given enough of your money back to you this week.”

Yamapi laughs and gets out. “I’m going to dinner after this, so I don’t need a ride,” he says, handing Jin the fare. “But I’ll call you the next time I do.”

Jin goes and buys the CD between passengers, though. He can pick out Yamapi’s nasal voice easily amidst the 6 voices that make up Yamapi’s boyband. Yamapi is a better actor than singer, Jin thinks, but the songs are catchy anyway, and he drives his customers crazy all night singing about blood types and love.


Part 3