Kame stood in the narrow hallway, the dim lights overhead giving the red carpets a strange deep hue. He leaned against the wall, the cigarette clasped lightly between his lips as the ember flared like a single beacon. He wasn’t sure what he was doing here. All he knew was that he was driving along the highways, and the lights from the buildings and streetlamps passed by like flitting memories of no significance. And somehow he ended up here. He wasn’t prepared for what he saw, wasn’t ready for the scraped raw emotions he saw in Jin’s narrowed eyes before a veil of calm dispassion settled over his chiseled features.

And he realized that if he was adept at becoming what people expected of him, then Jin was a consummate actor, condemned to hiding behind walls and pretenses he had painstakingly erected since youth. Because even when they were young, Jin didn’t allow people to witness his vulnerability. He only cried in the tranquil silence of the night and even if he did, the tears slipped down soundlessly. He had always been amazed, mesmerized when he saw Jin lying on his side and moisture gathering in his eyes, because later when he lived with the Kamenashis, he tried so hard to cry like Jin during the first few nights. He muffled his cries in his pillow, except that often he would come up gasping for air and he realized he was nothing like Jin. He couldn’t contain his pain or misery. And so he did the only thing he could, he devoted all his energy into becoming the epitome of perfection, someone his parents would be proud of.

He topped his class, he went on to college, and every accolade he achieved was a way of telling his parents that they made the right decision in adopting him. Because the cynic in him didn’t believe their love was unconditional. In a way, as he became what his parents expected him to be, he lost that integral part of himself that had accompanied him through those testing childhood years, when every day was a fight for survival. That integral part of him that had made Jin lower his guard against him. And maybe this perseverance wasn’t just because of Jin, it was also because in the six years, he had forgotten what it was like to be himself. The cigarette had burnt to a blunt tip when the door opened and Jin was standing there, the scent of tobacco and wine clinging to his clothes. Tendrils of his hair clung lovingly to the nape of his neck and he shouldn’t look this gorgeous, with those dark, opaque bedroom eyes as he turned to look at Kame.

“What’re you doing here?” He leaned against the wall with a languorous grace, as he cupped his hands around a cigarette and lit it. He didn’t look at him once, as though he was someone of no consequence and Kame could feel the anger flare in him.

“Last time I saw you, you told me to forget about you so I came here to drink myself stupid and maybe get laid.” Kame said as he slammed his hand flat on the wall beside Jin’s head, effectively blocking Jin’s means of escape. If Jin was surprised at the sudden outward show of aggressiveness, he didn’t reveal it. He simply took a deep drag of his cigarette and when his eyes finally met Kame’s, there was a small trace of bleak disappointment in them.

“It doesn’t work that way, Kazuya.” Somehow Kame wondered whether Jin realized that he had unconsciously reverted to calling him by his childhood name, that he sounded lovingly exasperated and most of all, tired. And separated by a few inches, Kame could see darkness shadowed beneath his eyes, that spoke of sleepless nights and tormented dreams.

“You’ll regret it tomorrow morning so go home.”

His words were delivered in an even, monotone voice but Kame could feel the deep, wrenching pain like an invisible entity in that narrow hallway and that stubborn streak inside him refused to let Jin lock himself behind his walls forever.

“I’m not fifteen anymore Jin. If you don’t want me to be involved in your life, then maybe you should let me live mine. And I certainly don’t think I need your consent or approval to do something.” And beneath those words, Jin could smell the lingering smell of aftershave and something else more alluring, the heady mix of anger and aggressiveness.

“Kame, I’m not doing this because some perverse part of me wants to control you. I’m doing it for the people who love you. Because believe or not, I understand how they feel. I may not be the boy you know, but I care. For all that’s worth, I care.” Jin said, the jagged edges of his hair hiding his face.

Kame didn’t expect to see the open honesty in his face, couldn’t believe he just heard the inflection in Jin’s voice that hinted at something vulnerable and yielding beneath his obvious desire to keep himself detached and emotionless. Before he could even process what just happened, the forthrightness inherent in his character made him blurt out.

“I don’t want the consolatory truth Jin….”

He received an odd look from Jin, as if he had pierced his armory of defenses with that one line of sentence. And the next second, Jin had pinned him against the wall, his hands clasping his wrists in a vise-like grip. He had moved so fast without any premonition that Kame was confused, dazed and disoriented. But beneath all that shock, was the unmistakable need inside him as heat pulsed between his legs. Jin leaned towards him and his body loomed before his, blocking out all traces of light and it was as though they were shrouded, coated in velvet darkness. And all that mattered was Jin’s soft seductive voice as he cupped Kame’s chin between his forefinger and thumb.

“You’re a fucking idiot, you know that?” The cruel, harsh words he was saying with faint mockery was so contradictory with the way his thumb was gently circling his chin that Kame couldn’t think of any right way to respond. Or maybe there was never a right answer in the first place and he tilted his face upwards defiantly.

“You know, I don’t appreciate being called an idiot by the one who’s so busy running that he doesn’t even know what he’s hiding from.” Kame knew if there was still something left of that boy he used to love, Jin would rise to the bait. It was the only stake he had left, and he knew exactly which buttons to press. He had done it before, and he could do it again. He was oddly calm and certain, because deep down inside, beneath all that nonchalance and slumberous, hooded eyes of Jin’s, was a need as powerful as his.

“Great then we’re both idiots.” And that was the last thing he heard before he felt Jin’s lips on his and the delicious heavy weight of his body that kept the reality of the outside world at bay. The stillness was complete, almost magical and hypnotizing. And the differences between them, the discrepancy in their social status, all those things ceased to matter as Jin slowly seduced him with his mouth, his lips and his tongue. Perhaps this was a farewell kiss, or maybe a sentimental goodbye fuck, and Kame realized belatedly that he didn’t care. That if this was an end in itself, then he was giving himself to Jin and the rest could wait.