I'm leaving here all quotes and sorry BUT I WANT O READ LAST PART NOW!!!
There was a time when anything Jin did might have meant Kame was doing it too.
“Don’t touch me,” Jin says. “Not in front of other people.”
Akakame always hurt Jin more than it hurt Kame. For all that Jin’s always loved what he does, and pretends he doesn’t care what people say, Jin’s the softest of them all.
But Kame has always loved Jin, even before he knew that’s what it was.
Kame always stays, just like Jin always leaves, satellites orbiting in opposite directions.
“You save your face-punching for taxi-drivers.”
“Maybe that makes the postcards, like, the Jin version of sonnets.”
Later, Jin apologizes, softly and quietly, and it’s nothing, nothing like the boy who never said sorry unless it was tickled out of him, gleeful laughter and innocent smiles.
Jin, Kame knows, has always wanted to be brave.
Jin’s not known for his cunning or his wit, he’s just got his big, stupid, sensitive heart and his good intentions.
Soccer players are like me, Jin’s written. Always running.
“But it gave me you,” Jin says. “Us.”
“It’s not bullshit. I gave a UStream conference and foreign fans sent hundreds of messages about Akame, Kame. That’s what they call it, overseas, instead of Akakame.”
“We can’t,” Jin says. “You know we can’t.” Jin sounds strained. “I’m too fucked up and you’re too Kamenashi.”
“I don’t know,” Jin says. “I’ve never had to sneak out. My mom just threw condoms at my face and let me go.”
no subject
There was a time when anything Jin did might have meant Kame was doing it too.
“Don’t touch me,” Jin says. “Not in front of other people.”
Akakame always hurt Jin more than it hurt Kame. For all that Jin’s always loved what he does, and pretends he doesn’t care what people say, Jin’s the softest of them all.
But Kame has always loved Jin, even before he knew that’s what it was.
Kame always stays, just like Jin always leaves, satellites orbiting in opposite directions.
“You save your face-punching for taxi-drivers.”
“Maybe that makes the postcards, like, the Jin version of sonnets.”
Later, Jin apologizes, softly and quietly, and it’s nothing, nothing like the boy who never said sorry unless it was tickled out of him, gleeful laughter and innocent smiles.
Jin, Kame knows, has always wanted to be brave.
Jin’s not known for his cunning or his wit, he’s just got his big, stupid, sensitive heart and his good intentions.
Soccer players are like me, Jin’s written. Always running.
“But it gave me you,” Jin says. “Us.”
“It’s not bullshit. I gave a UStream conference and foreign fans sent hundreds of messages about Akame, Kame. That’s what they call it, overseas, instead of Akakame.”
“We can’t,” Jin says. “You know we can’t.” Jin sounds strained. “I’m too fucked up and you’re too Kamenashi.”
“I don’t know,” Jin says. “I’ve never had to sneak out. My mom just threw condoms at my face and let me go.”