Acts of Faith (Akame) [1/3]

[maayacolabackup]

Title: Acts of Faith
Pairing: Akame
Rating: PG 13

Warnings: Insane amounts of Member-ai. Ridiculous amounts. KAT-TUN is all up bromancing in their bromance.
Summary: Kazuya is going out on a limb, and hoping he doesn’t fall.
Notes: I did not mean to write this. At all. Oops. And then I did. I hope you like it T_T (15k)

When Kazuya opens his eyes, it’s to dim, flickering, fluorescent lights and an unfamiliar ceiling. The sheets beneath him are coarse (Kazuya doesn’t even like to admit to the thread count of his sheets at home, it’s so obscenely high) and the air smells stale.

Kazuya’s parents are there, and his one of his brothers is sitting on the edge of the bed. “Hello Mr. Kamenashi,” the doctor says, and Kazuya looks at him blearily, trying to focus on the wavering figure of the white-coated man. “Do you know where you are?”

“Hospital,” he replies, the word sticking in his throat and coming out as a croak. Kazuya swallows, and tries again. “I’m at the hospital,” he says, and the doctor nods.

“Do you know what happened, sweetie?” Kazuya’s mother asks, gripping his hand so hard it hurts, but only vaguely, as Kazuya’s whole body feels kind of numb. Kazuya has no idea what happened, so he nods his head in the negative.

Kazuya’s father looks down at him, as Kazuya’s eyes finally start to focus. “You were driving down the highway and crashed, Kazuya,” his father says, and Kazuya is confused.

“What?”

“You were driving and you suddenly just drove off the road,” his father continues. “Into a guard rail. There were no other cars involved. No one was hurt but you. Your left leg has been crushed.”

Kazuya has always been a safe driver, and driving off the road…”How?” Kazuya asks, as his brain, still fuzzy from drugs and displacement, struggles to keep up with the conversation.

“We were wondering the same thing, Mr. Kamenashi,” the doctor states, pushing his glasses up on his nose. “Your family insists you’re an incredibly safe driver, and so I wanted to investigate other possible causes for your accident.” He opens the folder in his arms, and coughs. “We did a CT scan, and it seems you have a large blood clot in your brain.”

Kazuya blinks slowly. “A blood clot?” His mother squeezes his hands tightly, pressing her lips together tightly. “What does that mean?”

“Mr. Kamenashi, have you been having any difficulties staying awake lately? Or times where you felt dizzy out of nowhere? Have you fainted recently?”

Kazuya remembers Junno’s frantic face when he passed out after dance rehearsal last week, losing consciousness for almost a full minute. Junno had insisted on driving him home, and demanded that Kazuya sleep at least 8 hours to keep it from happening again.

“Well, yes,” Kazuya says helplessly, “but I’m an idol, and I don’t get a lot of sleep, so…”

“These were warning signs, Mr. Kamenashi, that something was going wrong in your brain. You’re lucky to be alive right now…you could have driven off a cliff, or into a minivan full of children on a soccer team.” Kazuya’s heart almost stops beating at the thought. “You’re almost lucky you got into the crash though, or we might never have found the clot until it was too late.”

“So what…what happens now?” Koji, his brother, is staring, with his eyes narrowed, at the white wall, as if it personally offends him by existing.

“They’re going to cut your head open and suck it out,” Koji says, and Kazuya turns wide eyes to the doctor.

“What?!”

“We have to operate as soon as possible, Mr. Kamenashi. If we don’t, we’re risking brain death. The clot is blocking the oxygen flow to your brain, suffocating it.”

Kazuya, who is 2 weeks away from a major Dome concert, about to start filming a new drama, and hasn’t even got time to sleep, can’t imagine having brain surgery.

“Now is not the best time…” Kazuya starts to say, but the doctor interrupts him.

“Mr. Kamenashi, you don’t really have a choice. You’re lucky you only have a crushed leg. With time, you will regain complete use of it, with no major lingering side effects. But the blood clot—if we don’t operate, you WILL die.”

Kazuya can’t believe any of this. “This surgery…is it safe?”

“Safer than the alternative, sweetie,” his mom says softly, and Kazuya knows that means it’s dangerous.

“Tell me,” he demands.

“The clot is in a difficult place, near your brain stem. There are a lot of risks,” the doctor says. “You could wake up from surgery with no memory, or no motor skills. You could forget how to speak. You could lose function in parts of your body. Best case scenario is that you wake up in 5 days, with no permanent ill-effects.”

“And the worst case?” Kazuya asks quietly, feeling for the leather thong on his neck that holds his lucky five-yen coin, and finding it, grips the go-en coin tightly in his hand.

The doctor purses his lips. “Full paralysis, or brain death,” the doctor says, finally, and Kazuya nods, fully armed with the facts.

“Well, there’s no choice, right? What do I have to sign?” Kazuya’s mother is crying and his dad is staring down at him with something Kazuya thinks is pride.

‘That’s my boy,” he says, and puts his hand on Kazuya’s shoulder. “You always were strong.”

Koji is staring at the floor murderously, and Kazuya wonders how he went from the top of the world to the bottom in a matter of hours.

***

A few hours before his surgery, Kazuya is watching the news, and he sees his own face flash on the screen.

“27 year old Johnny’s Entertainment idol and lead vocalist of the pop band KAT-TUN, Kamenashi Kazuya, was rushed to the hospital earlier this morning after he was involved in a near fatal car accident on his way to work. Inside sources at Tokyo District Hospital have revealed that Kamenashi passed out behind the wheel due to a blood clot in his brain, and that he will be undergoing dangerous, life-threatening surgery in a matter of hours. We will keep you updated on his condition as we learn more.”

It leaked. Kazuya can practically feel people being fired as he stares shocked at the television.

His bedside phone rings, and he answers in a daze.

“Kame-chan?” It’s Koki. “Kame, is this real? What’s going on?!” He can hear Nakamaru frantically asking question in the background, demanding that Koki pass them on to Kazuya as quickly as possible.

All of a sudden, it feels so terrifyingly real to Kazuya, that he could die in a few hours. “Koki,” he whispers, and Koki swears.

“Shit, Kame-chan, shit,” Koki says. “When is your surgery?”

“At 2 pm,” Kazuya replies, and Koki swears again.

“We’re trapped here, the media is swarming outside.” Kazuya can hear the panic in his voice. “We’ll all be there as soon as we can though, okay?”

“Yeah,” Kazuya says.

“You’d better not fucking die, Kamenashi,” Koki threatens, and his voice is strange and choked up, like he’s about to cry. “You’re the lead vocalist, and our band will be shit without you.”

Kazuya laughs, because the other option is breaking down, and he can’t afford to do that right now. “Can you…can you tell Ueda to feed my dogs?” he asks, because it’s all he can think of.

“Fuck, Kame, of course he’ll feed your dogs, idiot.” Koki sounds incredulous now, as if Kazuya is crazy for thinking of that now, but Kazuya doesn’t want to think about the blood-clot in his brain that’s killing him as they speak, and he really loves his dogs.

A nurse comes in, to run diagnostics, and she gestures to Kazuya to get off the phone. “I have to go,” he whispers into mouthpiece, and Koki makes this hysterical sound in the back of his throat that comes across as sort of a hiss through the phone line.

“Kame.”

“They have to do some checks and stuff before surgery, so I have to hang up,” Kazuya elaborates, and the nurse smiles at him patiently. “Bye, Koki. Tell the others bye too.”

He’s saying bye, just in case he doesn’t get the chance later. He swallows. “Kame-chan—“

“Don’t forget about my dogs,” Kazuya says, and hangs up. He turns to the pretty nurse and smiles his idol smile. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

The smile she gives him in return is far too understanding.

As Kazuya is wheeled into surgery, he focuses on the sheet below him, which is not Egyptian cotton, or anything close to it, because he can’t focus on what’s about to happen. His mom holds his hand in the elevator, and all the down the hall until they reach the double doors.

“You’ll be fine, Kazuya,” she says, as his dad wraps his arms around her shoulders to hold her back. “You’re a survivor.”

Kazuya closes his eyes, and clutches his lucky go-en coin tightly in his hand.

***

Kazuya opens his eyes. “Mr. Kamenashi, can you hear me?” says the doctor, and Kazuya can’t say yes because he’s too deeply under sedation, but he can, he can hear him. He moves his hand a little, hoping the doctor will see it. “The surgery seems to have gone well…” Kazuya hears, and then it fades to black again.

The next time he opens his eyes, his mother is looking down on him, eyes shining. “The boys are here, Kazuya,” she says. “We’ve all been waiting for you to wake up.”

Kazuya blinks at her, and she smiles wide. “A complete success, sweetie. You’re going to be fine.” She smoothes the gauze over his forehead. “You’ve lost all your hair, though, baby. You don’t look much like an idol. Koki-chan is laughing his head off about it, now that he knows you’re going to be fine.”

It makes Kazuya want to smile, but instead he goes back to sleep.

He hears Nakamaru’s giggle even in his sleep, and it makes it easier to breathe.

***

There’s a hand holding his own. The nails are short and blunt, and the fingers are long and calloused. The touch is familiar, and Kazuya feels safe as a thumb caresses the back of his hand, rubbing in soothing circles across his skin. Kazuya cracks his eyes open, just a little, and it’s Jin. He can’t keep his eyes open though, the sleep fairies weighing down on him heavily. The next time he opens his eyes, Jin is gone, and Kazuya wonders if he imagined him there.

Several times during the hazy period right after his surgery, he thinks he feels Jin’s presence beside him in the night. Sometimes he thinks he sees him, too, but Kazuya can’t be sure, because painkillers are running liquid through his bloodstream and he finds it too difficult to stay awake for more than 5 minutes at a time. He weaves in and out of consciousness, and the whole thing could be a figment of his addled mind.

“Kame-chan,” Koki says, his voice calm and serious, when Kazuya mentions, tentatively, that he saw Jin. “We haven’t heard from Jin in over a year. I’m pretty sure he’s not sneaking in at night to sit by your bedside.”

Nakamaru grins. “We all know you have crazy dreams, Kame, and the medication probably isn’t helping. This is just one of those. You’re probably just disoriented because you’re in a strange place, and you’re nervous at night.”

But Kazuya can’t shake the feeling that it really is Jin watching over him as he sleeps, and oddly, it’s that thought that makes it okay for Kazuya to close his eyes.

***

Ueda sends Kazuya a cell phone picture of his dogs every day. For Tat-chan, who his not overly emotional or expressive, this is the equivalent of telling Kazuya that he’s been frantically worried, and he’s so happy Kazuya is okay.

Kazuya’s mom turns on the press conference with the guys in his room, so Kazuya can watch. For now, Kazuya’s in a neck brace to prevent him from ripping any stitches, so she props him up on a pillow to help him see.

They all look tired but relieved. It’s been four days since the surgery, and they’ve each been by to visit at least twice during the day, just sitting around and telling Kazuya about all the gifts fans keep leaving outside the studio and the exhaustive amounts of internet support for him.

Ueda naturally slips into the position of spokesperson during the conference, and Kazuya remembers him being Leader of KAT-TUN clearly, wondering why he quit. “We’re happy to announce that Kamenashi successfully underwent brain surgery,” Ueda says, and the room fills with a high-pitched, excited buzz. “He’s expected to make a full recovery,” he continues, over the noise, and the tension in the room significantly drops.

“What does this mean for the future of KAT-TUN?” one reporter queries. “When will you guys be getting back to work? Or will you?”

Ueda clears his throat. “I’m sorry, but I don’t now. What I do know is that we have something much more important to focus on, and that is Kamenashi’s health and recovery. After that, then we can start to look into the future of KAT-TUN’s activities.” The reporter looks a bit chastised—Ueda has a way of making people feel incredibly small when he thinks they’re jumping the gun or being foolish, and reporters are no exception.

Nakamaru clears his throat, and leans into his mike. “All we can ask is that people continue to support Kamenashi at this time, and we’ll let you know more as soon as WE know more,” he states, softening Ueda’s blow with his easy-going charm.

The front they’re showing is united, same as it was last time they were left bewildered by a sudden turn of events that threatened the groups future, when they were told at 8 in the morning one day in July that Jin wasn’t going to come back to KAT-TUN, and there was going to be a press conference at 9.

KAT-TUN’s friendship, Kazuya thinks, might be even stronger than regular friendship, the kind built upon mutual interests and common personality traits, because even though they are all so incredibly different, they have a bond that has been formed by the fire of adversity, and as strong as steel.

***

The first month in the hospital is awful, because Kazuya isn’t really allowed to do anything but sit and recover. The bones in his leg are starting to heal, and every day they decrease the amount of pain-killers, which makes him increasingly antsy to start rehab for it. The doctors don’t want to rush. They’re still monitoring his brain, because it’s still healing, and every once in a while Kazuya is stuck with an intense and unexpected dizzy spell, that means even once he’s doing rehab he’ll have to stay in the hospital for observation for a while longer. Even worse are the nosebleeds, which worry the doctors because they won’t stop, and Kazuya has to lie on the bed, head thrown back, while they stick a tiny little camera up into his brain.

So Kazuya watches a lot of TV. He see’s Jin’s face a lot—he’s filming some ridiculously high budget film with Ken Watanabe now, and Japan is throbbing with excitement over the stills released from shooting.

He starts watching an interview with Jin one day, when there’s nothing else on, and his eyes take in the shape of Jin’s face—the curve of his cheek, and the set of his brow. But he also takes in Jin’s smile, and it sits like lead in Kazuya’s stomach how much happier Jin looks now, doing his own thing. It makes him wonder why he was so upset at Jin for just quitting when clearly Jin had been living in misery. But Kazuya can’t help it—when he thinks of the press conference in July 2010, how he’d felt bewildered and lied to and abandoned, he’s still so sad. He grips his necklace tight, and the edges of the coin dig into his palm.

When Junno sticks his head in the door, with a cheerful “Afternoon, Kame-chan!” Kazuya turns off the TV while Jin is in mid-sentence, and gestures for him to come in.

Still, that night, Kazuya dreams that Jin sneaks into his room and sits by his bedside as he sleeps, and when he wakes up in the morning, he convinces himself he can smell the lingering scent of tobacco. But Jin is nowhere to be found, and it’s all Kazuya’s imagination after all.

***

The first day Kazuya is allowed to start rehabilitation for his leg, Yuuichiro, his oldest brother, takes time off of work to come and help him out. “I’m the strongest, so I got volunteered,” Yuuichiro says, scratching the back of his neck anxiously, and not looking at Kazuya. Yuuichiro is far from demonstrative, so Kazuya knows this means that Yuuichiro has been feeling helpless in all this, and wanted to do something productive. He’s been to see Kazuya once a week since Kazuya’s been locked up in the hospital, and he’s always quiet. They sit in companionable silence, and sometimes Yuuichiro talks about the news.

One hour later, Kazuya’s whole body is covered in sweat, and his leg aches like hell, but Yuuichiro is holding him up, and Kazuya feels accomplished.

Rehab is not easy. Kazuya sometimes gets dizzy, and his knee gives out a lot. But the rest of the group is waiting, and his fans are waiting, and Kazuya fights through the pain and weakness so he can meet them all again on stage.

Johnny has told him to take his time, because Kazuya’s spot will still be waiting when he gets back.

***

Kazuya has avoided looking at himself in the mirror for the past five weeks, afraid of what he might find. He knows he looked terrible for a while, and then they shaved his head when he went into surgery, so he’s pretty sure he looks like ET or something like that and can’t bear to see it.

Today, for the first time, he looks into the glass and stares at his reflection. His hair is growing back, chunks half an inch long poking through the gauze wrapped tightly around his head. His face is a bit swollen from his medication, and his eyes have dark circles under them. There is a fading bruise on his neck that Kazuya doesn’t know if it’s from the surgery or the accident.

But, Kazuya is relieved to see, he still looks like himself. He’s still Kamenashi Kazuya, and he can still be an idol. His hands trail up and down his skin, searching for something, he doesn’t know what, but he doesn’t find it, and he’s so glad.

***

Kazuya is alone today, doing rehab exercises in the hospital gym. He feels dizzy today. The gauze is wrapped too tight around his head, and it’s making him feel claustrophobic. His leg is stiff and tight, and no matter how many stretches he does, it’s still taking too long to respond, reacting a second too slow to commands from his brain, and when it does move, it aches.

Kazuya feels frustrated to the point of tears sometimes, when he thinks about how far he has left to climb until he can perform even the simplest of dance routines, the kind he used to learn in his sleep. Hell, he has trouble walking, still, even with crutches, and although the doctors and his physical therapist both reassure him constantly that he’ll regain full use of his leg in time, it feels impossibly far away.

Forcing himself into one last stretch, Kazuya bends to the side, making a triangle, pulling at both his hamstring and his quad, to try and loosen the muscle just a bit more, and suddenly his leg buckles and gives out. Kazuya, as a gymnast and lifelong idol, knows how to fall, and he braces himself to hit the floor, but he doesn’t.

Strong arms grip him tightly on his upper arms, holding him up, and his nose is presses roughly into a leather jacket that smells strongly of cigarette smoke.

“Are you okay?” Jin’s voice hasn’t changed at all since the last time Kazuya heard it in person. It’s still raw and boyish, unrefined in a way that adds an air of earnestness to whatever Jin is saying, and makes it almost impossible for Jin to be anything but honest about his feelings. It’s one of the things that makes Jin one of the worst idols ever—he can’t fake anything, which is half of the business, at least to Kazuya.

“It is you,” he says, instead of answering Jin’s question, and he straightens himself up and pulls away. He tests his leg just a little; it’ll hold him up, so he takes a step back. “At night, I mean.”

Jin clears his throat, and tucks his hands into the pockets of his coat. Kazuya can’t see his eyes, they are hidden behind oversized aviators, but Kazuya can see the tension in the lines around his mouth, Jin’s upper lip pulled tight like when he’s trying to remember the words to a song. “I’m usually busy during the day,” he says at last. “But I come when I can.”

When he can is every night, Kazuya supposes. “Why?” Kazuya’s toes are cold, and he wants to walk over to his bag and grab his socks, but he doesn’t want to break the moment, not yet.

Jin runs a shaky hand through his unkempt hair. “I thought you were gonna die,” Jin replies. “I mean, the news made it sound like you were going to die. And I didn’t want the last words I ever said to you to be ‘fuck off Kamenashi.’” Jin chuckles. “Because, you know, even if I meant them at the time, and sometimes I hate you a little,” and Jin stops, and smiles wryly, “I don’t really hate you. And the thought of never seeing you again, and never getting to tell you that…It was really scary, Kame.”

“Oh,” Kazuya says, and wraps his arms around himself for a lack of better things to do with them that don’t involve nervous gestures. “I don’t hate you either.”

Jin smiles at him, a teeny one that strikes a flickering hope in Kazuya’s chest that Kazuya knows is dangerous.

“You should sit,” Jin says then. “I have to go. I was only going to drop in and watch for a few minutes before my filming today—“

“That’s a bit creepy,” Kazuya interjects, and Jin flushes.

“Well, I didn’t know if you’d want to see me or not,” Jin defends. “I didn’t want to intrude on your overzealous kamikaze rehabilitation techniques or anything—“

“You’re just lazy—“

“I am not lazy, you are stubborn and—“ Jin’s face is scrunching, like he’s gearing up for battle.

“I am not overzealous, I’m DEDICATED, you idiot!” Kazuya retorts, before they both realize, in the same moment, that these are not old times, and instantly, if all feels awkward and tense.

Jin bites his lip, in a way Kazuya has seen a million times before, Jin’s trademark sign of nervousness. “Well, anyway, I have to go.”

“Come again?” Kazuya blurts out before he can stop himself. Jin freezes, and Kazuya wants to hit himself in the head, but figures he clearly already has enough brain damage.

Then Jin smiles, slow and warm, in a way Kazuya hasn’t seen directed at him in so long that it takes his breath away to see it now. “Yeah,” Jin says. “Sure. Yeah, I will.”

Hope is a bright spark as Jin walks away.

***

Jin comes back. Sometimes at night, when all the lights are off, and sometimes in the late afternoon, when Kazuya is finishing his rehab sessions with his personal trainer, a man in his late 40s by the name of Kiriyama, who as the days pass Kazuya starts to find looks more and more like those paintings of the devil he saw at the MoMA, that time he went to New York.

Jin always, without fail, shows up on the days when Kazuya is the most beaten and wrung out, lying limp on the practice mats on his back, sweating profusely and wondering if his leg is ever going to work right. He always sits down beside Kazuya, and pulls his leg into his lap, and massages the tight and sore muscles until Kazuya’s brow relaxes from relief.

“I was reading about this stuff on Google,” Jin says, “and it said that massaging the leg after an intense workout would help with soreness and flexibility.” Jin smiles at him. “I’m probably not the best at it, but I’m what you’ve got.”

Kazuya thinks Jin’s hands are like magic. “Thank you,” he says, and Jin’s hands still, for the briefest of moments, before resuming his kneading motion on Kazuya’s lower leg.

“No problem,” Jin replies.

Once, Jin brings a big bag of McDonalds with him, the smell of salt and carbohydrates filling the air. “Heard hospital food sucks,” Jin offers by way of explanation, as he pulls out an array of high glucose, high saturated fat-filled items. “Quarter Pounder with Cheese is still your favorite, right?”

“Yeah,” Kazuya says, laughing delightedly. “Oh my goodness, hospital food sucks so much, you have no idea.”

Jin’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “Well, clearly you need some real nutrition,” he says in an authoritative tone, before he leans forward and pokes Kazuya in the clavicle with his index finger, the briefest of touches. “You’re all skeletal and shit.”

They eat Jin’s bounty with relish, while they watch Japanese dubbed episodes of Spongebob Squarepants on the TV, and Jin snorts his cola, and coughs and wheezes, and Kame feels so young and free, and it’s amazing.

When Jin comes at night, Kazuya is usually more than half-asleep, and Jin usually brings with him a notebook and his mp3 player. For the first 30 minutes or so, he talks to Kazuya about his music, about the songs he’s writing and what does Kazuya think of this metaphor? Does it work? And Kazuya, who misses his job, misses music, is happy to listen to Jin ramble. But then Kazuya’s eyes start to get heavy, so Jin puts in his headphones and scribbles in his notebook, humming a melody or singing brief snippets softly under his breathe. For Kazuya, it’s like a private lullaby, these rare moments of listening to Jin raw with no auto-tune, just his beautiful clear voice echoing against the bare walls of Kazuya’s hospital room. He feels like he’s 14 again, when Jin slept next to him singing subconsciously under his breath as Kazuya tried to go to bed. Jin’s eyes are always closed, and it’s easy for Kazuya to close his eyes too, and drift softly to sleep to the sound of Jin’s sweet song, which is like the ocean crashing at the shores of Kazuya’s consciousness.

And when he wakes up in the morning, on those late nights, Jin is always gone, the only reminder of his presence a lingering smell of cigarette smoke and cherry bubblegum, the kind Jin has chewed since forever.

***

Junno is always so loud when he comes to visit, earning complaints from the nurses which quickly turn to swoons when they peek their heads into the room and see his charming smirk.

“Kameeeeeee,” he drawls, his voice varying in pitch, as he bounces in his seat. “Kame when do you get out of here?”

“Not today, “ Kazuya answers, amused despite himself.

Sometimes they don’t talk, and Junno just beeps away on his Nintendo and Kazuya reads a magazine.

“Might as well play here with you,” Junno says. “Nintendo is Nintendo wherever I go.”

He just does it so Kazuya isn’t lonely. But Kazuya enjoys knowing Junno is there.

***

On the 28th of April, Jin comes early. “My movie premiere is tonight,” Jin says, and Kazuya nods. “So, I can’t really come and see you, probably.” It’s the first time either of them has acknowledged that there is a pattern, a schedule, to Jin’s visits, and it makes Kazuya uncomfortable.

“I heard. It’s okay,” Kazuya manages, and then he looks down at his nails, which are a little too long. “I’ll be okay.”

Jin clears his throat, and nods decisively. “Well, I’d better be off.” Jin stands, and his sweatshirt slides down his arm, baring a tattooed shoulder. Jin looks like an overgrown puppy, his hair un-brushed and wild underneath a knit hat, and his jeans and his sweatshirts both two sizes too large.  A wave of nostalgia hits Kazuya hard.

“See you,” he offers, and fires a sideways grin at him.

“Of course.”

“Bless my heart, is that you, Jin?”

Kazuya’s mother is standing in the doorway, and Jin tenses. She looks shocked to see him, and her eyes are sort of filling with tears in a way that makes Kazuya feel simultaneously pleased and embarrassed, so he can only imagine how Jin feels.

“Oh, you sweet boy, come here,” and she’s wrapped Jin up into a tight hug, and he’s wrapping his arms around her too, lightly, because he probably hasn’t hugged her since he was a teenager. “I’d forgotten how tall you ended up,” she mumbles into Jin’s shoulder, and Jin laughs. “Not all small like my Kazuya.”

When Jin’s left, Kazuya turns at his mother, who has taken Jin’s spot next to the bed. “It’s best if you don’t…mention Jin to the others,” Kazuya says, and Jin’s mother looks at him, slow and contemplative.

“How long has that boy been coming to visit you, Kazuya?” she asks, her fingers drumming on the metal bar on the edge of Kazuya’s hospital bed, kept there in case he as a seizure at night. So far, he’s been lucky, and he hopes there won’t be any reason he can’t go home in two weeks, to finish his recovery in his parents’ home.

“Since the beginning,” Kazuya replies. “It’s not a secret, per say, but I don’t want to…it’s fine, just like this.”

His mom nods, and Kazuya releases his breath. “Still,” she says. “I’m so happy you boys are getting along again,” and her eyes are glistening with unshed tears. “Even in the worst of circumstances, there’s always a silver lining for every cloud, Kazuya.”

Kazuya thinks maybe this cloud, dark and gloomy and full to bursting, is lined with gold.

Kazuya turns on the news that night, because he knows Jin will be on it. Jin is wearing an incredible suit, a dark charcoal gray that makes his skin look like it’s made of bronze, and his hair is brushed back away from his face and pulled into a low ponytail. His tie is gold, and it’s too much but it’s just right, because it’s Jin. He is smiling and laughing with an American reporter, speaking really good English that Kazuya can’t understand, because he’s never been good at languages, especially not English, because the letter R is impossible to pronounce.

When the coverage has cycled three times, and the same clip of Jin clapping his co-star on the back has been played enough for Jin’s wide open-mouthed smile to become emblazoned in Kazuya’s memory, he turns off the television and tries to go to sleep.

But for some reason, sleep won’t come, and Kazuya lies awake, staring at the ceiling and wondering if he’s become too dependent on the lilting tone of Jin’s voice every Wednesday night to go to sleep without it.

Around 4 AM, Kazuya hears the door squeak, and smells unfamiliar cologne and whiskey as a figure flops into the chair at his bedside.

“It felt weird not to come,” Jin slurs, thinking Kazuya is asleep. Kazuya rolls onto his side, as much as he can with the soft-cast they wrap around his leg at night, to keep him from bruising it in his sleep. Jin’s gold tie is undone and hanging loosely around his neck, and his hair is loose now. Kazuya prefers it that way anyway—unkempt and boyish. Jin, when he is neat and perfectly ordered, always looks like he’s playing dress-up. This Jin, a little drunk and a little falling apart, is more authentic, tugging at Kazuya’s memories and at his heartstrings.

“Felt weird for you not to be here,” he whispers, and Jin starts.  He stares at Kazuya for a minute, and Kazuya drinks him in. Jin is not an attractive drunk- his eyes get glassy and his face gets too red. He’s kind of a mess, but Kazuya prefers it that way—likes people to just be people, sometimes. “Sing something,” Kazuya says, and Jin leans his head back, and closes his eyes.

“Okay,” he says, and starts to hum.

***

Koki throws a newspaper onto the bed when he comes into Kazuya’s room, almost making Kazuya drop his tea. “What’s this about?” Koki’s voice is strange.

Kazuya unfolds the paper, and looks at the headline.  Estranged friends reunited by tragedy?!  the headline reads, and then the subtitle: ‘Akanishi Jin spotted leaving former band-mate Kamenashi Kazuya’s hospital.’ Kazuya looks at the grainy photo of Jin, wearing a baseball cap and a giant sweatshirt, and shrugs uncomfortably. “This was last week,” he admits, for a lack of anything better to say.

“So he has been here to visit you, then?” Koki asks, bemused. “That’s surprisingly unselfish of him.” A bit of venom.

Kazuya shrugs again. “I told you he was here at night, but you didn’t believe me.”

Koki, who is stacking and straightening the magazines on Kazuya’s bedside table, stills. “Wait, what?”

“He was here every night for the first three weeks,” Kazuya explains, fumbling over the words in his haste to get them out. “I told you guys that I saw him, and you told me I was hallucinating.”

“What, is he too chickenshit to come during the day, or something?” Koki sneers. It’s a rare expression on his face. Koki is fierce when it comes to his friends, and betrayals sit high on the list of things he hates. Koki scowls still, when Jin’s name is mentioned. It always makes Kazuya cringe. “Just like when he left the band, and didn’t have the guts to do it right.”

“More like he has shooting for his movie from sunrise until late at night everyday,” Kazuya points out gently, but firmly. “And he gave up sleep for three weeks so he could come and see me at all.”

Koki frowns. “Well give the man a prize! So what, all is forgiven now? He doesn’t bother to talk to any of us for over a year, and he shows a glimmer of humanity and now it’s all sunshine and roses?”

Kazuya swallows. “No,” he says. “But it’s a start.”

Koki looks at Kazuya for a long while, before he nods. “It’s your life, Kame. But you were hurt more than the rest of us. I just…Jin’s not reliable, or predictable, Kame, both things you crave in people. And when this is over, and you’re well, I don’t want you destroyed when he disappears, guilt assuaged.”

Koki is Kazuya’s best friend for many reasons, but first and foremost, Kazuya loves Koki’s capacity to care. Underneath his joking and carefree façade is a constant and unyielding pillar of support for his special people, and Kazuya is honored to be one of them. It’s just that Kazuya’s also always had a soft spot for Jin a mile wide, ever since they were just lost kids blindly striving for some crazy dream, and brash, loud, gregarious Jin had chosen him.

Kazuya presses his lips into a thin line. “He comes three times a week, at least, now that his movie is done, and he just has recording for his new album. During the day, too. He always looks exhausted, but he’s been helping with my rehab. It’s not an apology, Jin is too proud for that, but…”

Koki nods again. “Alright, Kame, but this is his last chance. If he hurts you again,” Koki shakes his fist pseudo-threateningly in the air, “I’m going to get a restraining order put on him!”

Kazuya laughs, and then Koki is smoothly changing the subject, telling him about the baseball game he and the new gravure model he’s dating went to last week, giving him a play by play of the exciting 6th inning while he forces Kazuya to eat some of the fresh, soft cookies his mom had sent. They’re delicious, and Kazuya sinks contentedly into his pillows, flexing his leg back and forth. It only hurts a little. He reaches for his necklace, rubbing the coin soothingly between his index finger and thumb.

***

Eight weeks after Kazuya’s surgery, his doctor tells him he’s been stable long enough to be released. Kazuya’s walking now, on crutches, his leg still soft-wrapped and mostly useless. He hasn’t had a single seizure, and the gods seem to be smiling down on him, because Kazuya never expected the best-case scenario when his doctor had laid the facts bare in front of him 2 months ago.

Still, it’s a relief to finally be told, with almost 100 percent certainty, that he’s made it. He’s not well yet—he still has moments of dizziness, and he’s got a long way to go before he’s doing flips and running down the different stages at the Tokyo Dome, reunited with his fans. But it still feels like he’s climbed a mountain, and the air at the top is sweet and clear. The view, from up here, is amazing. The descent is daunting, but he knows he can make it.

“I can go home next week,” he tells Jin. “I can’t live by myself, so I’m going to my parents’ house until they’re sure I’m not just going to pass out when my dizzy spells hit. They’re supposed to go away, though.”

“That’s great news!” Jin says, lips quirking as he looks at Kazuya fondly. “About time, huh?”

“Yeah,” Kazuya answers.

Jin’s face relaxes, and he stares at the wall. “I might miss this room, though,” Jin says, and his tone is unreadable. “Lots of memories.”

Kazuya wishes he knew what Jin was thinking, but Jin’s face isn’t nearly as open as it used to be.

***

Kazuya knows it’s coming, but he’s still surprised for some reason when he gets the call from Johnny. “Has your hair grown back?” Johnny asks, his voice gruff and straight to the point.

“Some,” Kazuya says. “I still have to wear gauze though, for another week or so.”

“That’s fine,” Johnny replies. “Your fans know you’ve been ill. But it’s time to show your face, kid.”

Kazuya shivers at the thought, inexplicably. “Yes, sir,” he says, fighting down the irrational anxiety.

“I already told the other four boys,” he informs Kazuya, who can’t help but smirk a little at the thought that despite nearing thirty, they’re still considered boys, because Johnny is ancient. “You’re a star, Kazuya, and you can’t let your fans forget it.”

***

It feels like second nature to sit behind a white desk with a microphone, sandwiched between Nakamaru and Ueda, and answer questions about his recovery. There’s an air of solemnity in the room, that Kazuya supposes is caused by his short hair and gauze-wrapped temple. It’s so much more real to them now, seeing Kazuya for the first time since the accident, so much more real that he almost died.

He almost expects them to ask about Jin, and it’s a credit to them all that they don’t. Kazuya appreciates it, because he’s not sure what he can say.

“Kamenashi, when do you expect KAT-TUN to make a comeback?” one brave reporter asks, and Kazuya knows they’ve all been thinking it the entire time.

“Well,” Kazuya starts, and the room takes a collective breath. “As soon as I’m cleared to work, we’ll be back in the studio, according to Johnny.” There’s a whoop from the back of the room, and Kazuya smiles, big and wide. “Thank you for you continued support,” he mumbles, struggling to stand. Ueda slips a hand under his elbow to help. Then Kazuya bows, low and deep. “I’m happy to be here,” he finishes, and the conference room bursts into applause.

This applause, this love from absolute strangers…This is why Kazuya does what he does, because he revels in the spotlight.

His phone buzzes while they are in the van back to the jimusho, where Kazuya’s parents are waiting to take him home for the first time in over 2 months.

You looked strong, Kame. You’re pretty cool these days, eh? It’s a text from a number his phone doesn’t recognize, but Kazuya knows it’s from Jin.

He saves the number as Hayato, and smiles a private smile.

Part 2