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dictionarysaysThe Month Kimura Nearly Threw His Phone into Tokyo Bay
Tsuyoshi/Kimura | PG-13 | Part 4
The next week (the last week of Tsuyoshi’s leave), Kimura’s on-location and taking a powernap on a really grassy hill; the sky is ridiculously blue, the clouds look like something out of a gumball machine and he can’t help but notice Tokyo Bay is near. They’ve just finished their last shoot for the day and as the crew packs everything away, Kimura’s not in the mood to leave just yet.
The buttons from the jacket he lies on dig into the back of his head so he shifts restlessly, sighing under his breath and staring up at the sky. He hums some tune the crew was playing on the radio, he thinks it might be a Johnny’s but he’s not exactly sure. Earlier, Shingo had called to say something silly like ‘how much do you miss Tsuyopon?’ and all Kimura could do was laugh it off and fake nonchalance.
The problem is he can’t get it out of his head. Throughout the shoot, he wasn’t even thinking of his lines (thankfully after so many years on sets, they just start to come to him, it's muscle memory) but of how long Tsuyoshi probably worked out this morning and the sweat that would gather on his brow and settle between the folds of his stomach as he did crunches on his couch. He wasn’t sure at the time if he’d rather think about that or the phone calls waiting to be answered or even the messages waiting to be heard in his inbox. But now that he thinks about it, the phone calls are probably safer territory—a sweating Tsuyoshi isn’t something he’s ready to face just yet.
He pulls out his phone from his pocket now, turning it in his hands; the sun hits it from behind with every spin and he tries to avoid the glare.
“You’re not that scary... ” his murmur is for the phone alone and he even manages a tiny smirk, a faint laugh-breath escaping his mouth. At the end of the day, Kimura knows he’s just as afraid as Tsuyopon if not more—is he really doing this for Tsuyoshi’s sake? The more time that’s passed, the less sure he is about the whole thing. He knows eventually he has to face the younger man and that’s not what worries him, what worries him are the first words that will come out of his mouth when he sees him. Logically then, if he doesn’t pick up the phone, he doesn’t have to worry about those first words either, does he?
He’s a wimp and no one knows it better than him.
Before he can regret it, Kimura gets into his voicemail, tries to overlook the happy swoop in the pit of his stomach (17 messages from Tsuyoshi-kun) and starts to listen—he can’t help but sit up for this, his heart is racing and his palms are suddenly cold.
“Kimura... ? Um, hi... it’s me. Tsuyoshi. You must be busy with your drama, ne? That’s good. I’m sure it’ll be great, I mean, they usually are. Ano... I’m sorry—so sorry—
“Drama must be taking up most of your time... I know how you like keeping busy, like you’d always say, ‘If I’m not busy when will I ever catch a break?’ I think I'm starting to finally get it... I know if you were on the other end you’d just tsk but you’re not so, just, accept this for what it is. I can’t say sorry enough to any of you. I’m sorry for being so stupid, I—
“I really should get the hint, shouldn’t I? Nakai’s doing the same, but, I can’t help but call anyways—that’s not too pathetic, is it? Probably is. Shingo says it is but it stings less when he says it. I made myself some sushi today. I was worried I wouldn’t have any seaweed, but I found some in the end. You’re not disappointed in me, are you? Shingo doubts it, but... I... I can’t be so sure. Forgiv—
“Goro just left and I c-can’t stop crying... he brought eel. It... it’s never tasted so good—I miss you. All of you. Part of me... part of me is almost relieved you don’t pick up the phone. Ha... I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disappoint any of you—especially you—
“I’m sorry—
“Shingo says this is just another step up the ladder of life and I agree, the only way I can make it up to you guys is by learning from my mistakes right... ? Letting life lead me—
“Takuya... ? I... I need you to pick up... even though I know you won’t. I’m sorry. Not just for being selfish but for putting you through this. I don’t deserve to hear your voice anyway—
He’s already up and stranded at the bottom of the hill by the twelfth message. The hand holding his phone is taut, knuckles splotchy and white—frustration, strain and misled love is written all over his face but mostly around the tired rims of his eyes. Kimura can’t stand it (later when the gaffer asks him what’s wrong, he’ll tell him he was practising for another scene—those weren’t real tears in his eyes).
He wants to leave this part of Tokyo and sprint to Tsuyoshi’s place and hug him and never let him go when he opens the door. He wants to do that but he knows in his heart of hearts he never would. It’s not only illogical, but—he doesn’t have the guts.
The back of his eyes hurt and he can’t stop his jaw muscle from tightening up. Tokyo Bay was gorgeous and blue just a few minutes ago but now all he sees are tears, eel and far too gentle smiles washing up at the dock, cresting beneath the hulls of boats. Kimura wants to find the heart to regret listening to the messages but the last time he heard Tsuyoshi-kun was on his iPod; Arigatou had come on shuffle and his heart had gotten all stuck in his throat as soon he heard Tsuyoshi’s thin almost feminine singing voice.
He’s never told him this, but he loves the way he holds his notes—like, if he lets go, there won’t be anything sincere or strong left.
“You idiot... ” he tries to laugh off the past fifteen minutes but his laugh is thick, even to him, and his eyelashes are suddenly damp. He starts to laugh a little more though, bursting in bits from his gut because Tsuyoshi really does apologize a lot, Shingo had told him about it, sure, but it’s not the same when he gets to hear it himself—they’re somehow genuine every time, despite the static of the phone and the surf of the bay. Kimura smiles some at the thought; it’s irrevocably Tsuyoshi and as much as his heart hurts and as much as the clouds move over him, he can’t deny that.
Kimura eyes his phone; he fingers the creases and contemplates it for a moment. He looks out at the bay. What’s stopping him from just throwing it there? There’s plenty more where this stupid thing came from and he can just ask for the numbers again.
Tsuyoshi wouldn’t be able to get a hold of him.
His hold tightens around the small object. His pulse quickens. He leans forward, it’s a long way down—the phone wouldn’t make it. If the water didn’t kill it, the rocks would. His palms have been clammy for a while but he only realizes it now because the number pad is slippery.
He outstretches his hand, loosening his hold; he wants to laugh out loud at the ridiculousness of the situation and tell Nakai he’s been so stupid, but the tears on his eyelashes stop him. The tears in the messages somehow made their way from his voicemail to the small tight ball that is now his stomach, churning and twisting like the sails beneath him (the wind’s picked up and his Mr. Brain hair is all over his face and that’s okay).
Part 5
Tsuyoshi/Kimura | PG-13 | Part 4
The next week (the last week of Tsuyoshi’s leave), Kimura’s on-location and taking a powernap on a really grassy hill; the sky is ridiculously blue, the clouds look like something out of a gumball machine and he can’t help but notice Tokyo Bay is near. They’ve just finished their last shoot for the day and as the crew packs everything away, Kimura’s not in the mood to leave just yet.
The buttons from the jacket he lies on dig into the back of his head so he shifts restlessly, sighing under his breath and staring up at the sky. He hums some tune the crew was playing on the radio, he thinks it might be a Johnny’s but he’s not exactly sure. Earlier, Shingo had called to say something silly like ‘how much do you miss Tsuyopon?’ and all Kimura could do was laugh it off and fake nonchalance.
The problem is he can’t get it out of his head. Throughout the shoot, he wasn’t even thinking of his lines (thankfully after so many years on sets, they just start to come to him, it's muscle memory) but of how long Tsuyoshi probably worked out this morning and the sweat that would gather on his brow and settle between the folds of his stomach as he did crunches on his couch. He wasn’t sure at the time if he’d rather think about that or the phone calls waiting to be answered or even the messages waiting to be heard in his inbox. But now that he thinks about it, the phone calls are probably safer territory—a sweating Tsuyoshi isn’t something he’s ready to face just yet.
He pulls out his phone from his pocket now, turning it in his hands; the sun hits it from behind with every spin and he tries to avoid the glare.
“You’re not that scary... ” his murmur is for the phone alone and he even manages a tiny smirk, a faint laugh-breath escaping his mouth. At the end of the day, Kimura knows he’s just as afraid as Tsuyopon if not more—is he really doing this for Tsuyoshi’s sake? The more time that’s passed, the less sure he is about the whole thing. He knows eventually he has to face the younger man and that’s not what worries him, what worries him are the first words that will come out of his mouth when he sees him. Logically then, if he doesn’t pick up the phone, he doesn’t have to worry about those first words either, does he?
He’s a wimp and no one knows it better than him.
Before he can regret it, Kimura gets into his voicemail, tries to overlook the happy swoop in the pit of his stomach (17 messages from Tsuyoshi-kun) and starts to listen—he can’t help but sit up for this, his heart is racing and his palms are suddenly cold.
“Kimura... ? Um, hi... it’s me. Tsuyoshi. You must be busy with your drama, ne? That’s good. I’m sure it’ll be great, I mean, they usually are. Ano... I’m sorry—so sorry—
“Drama must be taking up most of your time... I know how you like keeping busy, like you’d always say, ‘If I’m not busy when will I ever catch a break?’ I think I'm starting to finally get it... I know if you were on the other end you’d just tsk but you’re not so, just, accept this for what it is. I can’t say sorry enough to any of you. I’m sorry for being so stupid, I—
“I really should get the hint, shouldn’t I? Nakai’s doing the same, but, I can’t help but call anyways—that’s not too pathetic, is it? Probably is. Shingo says it is but it stings less when he says it. I made myself some sushi today. I was worried I wouldn’t have any seaweed, but I found some in the end. You’re not disappointed in me, are you? Shingo doubts it, but... I... I can’t be so sure. Forgiv—
“Goro just left and I c-can’t stop crying... he brought eel. It... it’s never tasted so good—I miss you. All of you. Part of me... part of me is almost relieved you don’t pick up the phone. Ha... I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disappoint any of you—especially you—
“I’m sorry—
“Shingo says this is just another step up the ladder of life and I agree, the only way I can make it up to you guys is by learning from my mistakes right... ? Letting life lead me—
“Takuya... ? I... I need you to pick up... even though I know you won’t. I’m sorry. Not just for being selfish but for putting you through this. I don’t deserve to hear your voice anyway—
He’s already up and stranded at the bottom of the hill by the twelfth message. The hand holding his phone is taut, knuckles splotchy and white—frustration, strain and misled love is written all over his face but mostly around the tired rims of his eyes. Kimura can’t stand it (later when the gaffer asks him what’s wrong, he’ll tell him he was practising for another scene—those weren’t real tears in his eyes).
He wants to leave this part of Tokyo and sprint to Tsuyoshi’s place and hug him and never let him go when he opens the door. He wants to do that but he knows in his heart of hearts he never would. It’s not only illogical, but—he doesn’t have the guts.
The back of his eyes hurt and he can’t stop his jaw muscle from tightening up. Tokyo Bay was gorgeous and blue just a few minutes ago but now all he sees are tears, eel and far too gentle smiles washing up at the dock, cresting beneath the hulls of boats. Kimura wants to find the heart to regret listening to the messages but the last time he heard Tsuyoshi-kun was on his iPod; Arigatou had come on shuffle and his heart had gotten all stuck in his throat as soon he heard Tsuyoshi’s thin almost feminine singing voice.
He’s never told him this, but he loves the way he holds his notes—like, if he lets go, there won’t be anything sincere or strong left.
“You idiot... ” he tries to laugh off the past fifteen minutes but his laugh is thick, even to him, and his eyelashes are suddenly damp. He starts to laugh a little more though, bursting in bits from his gut because Tsuyoshi really does apologize a lot, Shingo had told him about it, sure, but it’s not the same when he gets to hear it himself—they’re somehow genuine every time, despite the static of the phone and the surf of the bay. Kimura smiles some at the thought; it’s irrevocably Tsuyoshi and as much as his heart hurts and as much as the clouds move over him, he can’t deny that.
Kimura eyes his phone; he fingers the creases and contemplates it for a moment. He looks out at the bay. What’s stopping him from just throwing it there? There’s plenty more where this stupid thing came from and he can just ask for the numbers again.
Tsuyoshi wouldn’t be able to get a hold of him.
His hold tightens around the small object. His pulse quickens. He leans forward, it’s a long way down—the phone wouldn’t make it. If the water didn’t kill it, the rocks would. His palms have been clammy for a while but he only realizes it now because the number pad is slippery.
He outstretches his hand, loosening his hold; he wants to laugh out loud at the ridiculousness of the situation and tell Nakai he’s been so stupid, but the tears on his eyelashes stop him. The tears in the messages somehow made their way from his voicemail to the small tight ball that is now his stomach, churning and twisting like the sails beneath him (the wind’s picked up and his Mr. Brain hair is all over his face and that’s okay).
Part 5
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no subject
Date: 2010-09-09 01:21 am (UTC)Tsuyoshi~
*sobs*
The build-up in/to this chappie is amazing. Even though they haven't met face-to-face, just reading as Takuya listens to Tsuyoshi's messages is really heart-breaking.
Gods, Tsuyoshi~ Since the whole fic up to now has not had his direct input, to have his voice on the whole situation just makes it hit home all the harder, especially the last message:
“Takuya... ? I... I need you to pick up... even though I know you won’t. I’m sorry. Not just for being selfish but for putting you through this. I don’t deserve to hear your voice anyway—
And Takuya just being overwhelmed because of the utter rawness that the messages bring is really, really... T.T
no subject
Date: 2010-09-11 03:28 am (UTC)/APOLOGIZES ALL THE SAME THOUGH
At first, I wasn't sure about the messages, I mean, if I was going to write them into the story at all--but they left me with no choice halfway through when it started to build up to that point and I can totally say that this was one of my favourite scenes to write. Mostly because I wrote this chapter and everything after it while I was in Vancouver (yeah, somehow)--usually during the car-rides between far away places or really late at night when I'd return to the hotel and have the huge desire to write under the stupid yellow glow of the bedside lamp.
In translation, I'm pretty much just really glad to see it was able to hit you in some sort of way. Considering the humongous amounts of times I've re-read this badboy (there was always something I ended up adding or taking away or leaving alone), I always still liked this scene so I'm happy to know you did too. :D Except for the sadness of course. Butbut, the ending kinda makes up for it right?
no subject
Date: 2010-09-13 12:06 am (UTC)To be honest, I actually really like it when fics make me cry, especially when they're supposed to. It just says so much as to how deeply it has touched me that it becomes real enough to affect me. *hangs head in shame* I'm a total masochist, aren't I? *joins Goro in his 'M' corner and starts twiddling thumbs*
XD XD XD I'm really, really glad that you decided to put it in (and enjoyed writing it). It was definitely one of my favourite scenes to read. Not to mention, it just added that much dimension, because suddenly, I could feel myself in Takuya's shoes, Tsuyoshi's voice making the hurt and desperation so so real. It felt like all the intangible imaginings were suddenly made reality because Takuya's worry was warranted, and Tsuyoshi was just so hurt.
*huggles* The ending more than makes up for it~~~ <333
no subject
Date: 2010-09-11 10:58 am (UTC)SMAP are just monsters, honestly. They're practically machines when it comes to their work, but they do it so perfectly each time anyway.
Kimura knows he’s just as afraid as Tsuyopon if not more—is he really doing this for Tsuyoshi’s sake? The more time that’s passed, the less sure he is about the whole thing.
I love this because it's always a recurring theme that Tsuyoshi's frightened for Kimura-kun, and I love how it's reversed in this situation. <3 AND Kimura's one of those people who likes to justify his actions by saying, it's good for them, etc. But is he really doing it for them? Sometimes I wonder too.
“Takuya... ? I... I need you to pick up... even though I know you won’t. I’m sorry. Not just for being selfish but for putting you through this. I don’t deserve to hear your voice anyway—
I love the voice mail - how Tsuyoshi tries to pretend to be strong at first.. and how he slowly breaks down. My heart broke for him :'(
He’s never told him this, but he loves the way he holds his notes—like, if he lets go, there won’t be anything sincere or strong left.
That's just how Tsuyopon faces the world, right? he puts in his all, sincerely and with all the strength he has. He's genuinely a good, kind soul. They're all good people, SMAP are. But Tsuyoshi just doesn't have any streak of meanness in him at all. Poor baby. I wanna hug the guy.
he wants to laugh out loud at the ridiculousness of the situation and tell Nakai he’s been so stupid
Because Shingo will empathise, Goro will empathise BUT Nakai will know exactly what Kimura means, in a way Goro and Shingo won't, because Nakai does the same thing to himself too.
I love torn Kimura, y'know? And you've done him perfectly.