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Fic: Diverted (Ryo/Yamapi)
Title: Diverted
Fandom: JE - Kanjani8/NEWS
Pairing/characters: Ryo/Yamapi
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,000~
Disclaimer: Total fiction.
Summary: Yamapi changes direction on his way home.
Note: I wrote this last year because I told Ilana a long time ago that I'd write her Ryo/Pi wherein one or both or them was outed. This was something like the third attempt at writing that fic (I'm working on the fourth now), because I am a rock star like that. /badassfailboatface
Yamapi turns his phone off once the doors close and silence has filled the train car like a sound. As the train leaves Tokyo Station, Yamapi rests his head on the window and is eased to sleep within moments by the blunted roar of the train slicing into the wind. He wakes occasionally, accustomed as he is to sleeping light on the subway, and only ever long enough to see the snack cart come and go, or to hand his ticket to the attendant, or to watch the rice fields morph into concrete. By the time they arrive in Osaka, Yamapi's throat feels dry and his eyes hurt and he knows he should turn around and go home.
Instead, he turns on his cell phone and keys in the name of the station near Ryo's apartment, moving through the station with his head down.
He takes the longest route listed, changing trains three times and walking slow so he misses the last connection. Sitting low on the platform bench, he deletes another one of Jin's messages without reading it, and pretends not to see his manager's phone number listed six times in the Missed Calls column.
The overcast skies they'd had in Tokyo this morning have traveled west and finally given way to rain here in Osaka. It starts up as Yamapi boards the train, jeweling on the windows and painting the iron railings with streaks of reflective white. He stands near the doors, back to the other passengers, but he's not surprised at all when he hears a stifled gasp and the familiar clack of fingernails on plastic.
Yamapi gets out one stop early. As he's leaving the station, he glances at his phone. Since he arrived in Osaka thirty-seven minutes ago, he's gotten seven new voicemails (manager, unknown, publicist, unknown, unknown, unknown, manager), four emails (family, Jin, Jin, Shirota), and eighteen missed calls (half manager, half unknown). He stares at the screen until the rain covers it. Then he breathes in, wipes it clean against the thigh of his jeans, and turns it off.
He buys a cheap umbrella at the convenience store and walks to Ryo's apartment roughing his hand through his hair and shucking off the excess water.
There's a long moment after Yamapi dials Ryo's apartment number at the door that he's convinced he won't get in. Either Ryo won't let him in or Ryo just might not be there. Ryo might actually be answering some of his phone calls, might already be slaving away on a strategy to make this go away, putting in hours or even days of effort into a scheme that will permanently erase the last thirty hours.
He almost forgets to grab the door handle when he's buzzed in.
Ryo's standing in the open doorway, phone wedged between his shoulder and his ear. He doesn't betray any kind of reaction as he steps back and allows Yamapi inside.
Yamapi toes his sodden sneakers off and stands in the hallway in his damp socks, watching Ryo talk about the situation with his manager like a professional.
When he hangs up, Yamapi blurts, "I'm sorry," like it's one syllable.
Ryo says, "It's okay," but quietly, holding his cell phone in both hands like he doesn't know it's there.
Yamapi sees the screen light up, but it's switched on silent, and Ryo doesn't see it.
Dragging some rationality together, Yamapi says, "Has anything else been released?"
Ryo pockets the phone and puts a hand through his hair, dry and rumpled. "Yeah, just. Hang on. Uh, come on. Come in."
Hours go by. Yamapi misses the last train. He sits still and quiet on Ryo's couch and listens while Ryo talks to various staff members, his manager, and then the publicist on both his and Yamapi's behalf. When Ryo hangs up, Yamapi finally calls his manager back and ends up saying very little. He fights the urge to slouch even though his manager can't see him, but when Ryo pulls a chair up close and sits in front of him so their knees almost touch, Yamapi's back naturally curves to bring his body closer to Ryo's.
At two in the morning, Yamapi hangs up and gets halfway through saying, "I'll call Jin," when Ryo leans in and covers Yamapi's mouth with his.
Yamapi's fingers find Ryo's knee and dig in until Ryo makes a low noise in the back of his throat and pulls back.
Yamapi wants to ask if Ryo thinks this is worth it. No one else has ever incited so much chaos over something like this. But they can still try and go in reverse. They can still go back thirty-five hours to when this was formless and fun.
He's still gripping Ryo's knee.
Ryo pretends not to notice, just rests his elbows on his thighs, one very close to Yamapi's hand.
Ryo's phone lights up, and both of them look at it where it's sitting next to Yamapi's on the couch. Ryo doesn't otherwise react, not even to make an automatic reach for it, just gazes at the screen even after it goes dark again.
Yamapi looks at his hand on Ryo's knee and surrenders control of his body to whatever part of his brain made him change trains on his way home in Tokyo to come here instead. He watches his hand lift off Ryo's knee and touch Ryo's hand. Watches his fingers find the spaces between Ryo's and curl until they've pulled Ryo's palm tight against his.
They watch six more calls go to voicemail, then Ryo turns both phones off with his free hand.
Fandom: JE - Kanjani8/NEWS
Pairing/characters: Ryo/Yamapi
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,000~
Disclaimer: Total fiction.
Summary: Yamapi changes direction on his way home.
Note: I wrote this last year because I told Ilana a long time ago that I'd write her Ryo/Pi wherein one or both or them was outed. This was something like the third attempt at writing that fic (I'm working on the fourth now), because I am a rock star like that. /badassfailboatface
Yamapi turns his phone off once the doors close and silence has filled the train car like a sound. As the train leaves Tokyo Station, Yamapi rests his head on the window and is eased to sleep within moments by the blunted roar of the train slicing into the wind. He wakes occasionally, accustomed as he is to sleeping light on the subway, and only ever long enough to see the snack cart come and go, or to hand his ticket to the attendant, or to watch the rice fields morph into concrete. By the time they arrive in Osaka, Yamapi's throat feels dry and his eyes hurt and he knows he should turn around and go home.
Instead, he turns on his cell phone and keys in the name of the station near Ryo's apartment, moving through the station with his head down.
He takes the longest route listed, changing trains three times and walking slow so he misses the last connection. Sitting low on the platform bench, he deletes another one of Jin's messages without reading it, and pretends not to see his manager's phone number listed six times in the Missed Calls column.
The overcast skies they'd had in Tokyo this morning have traveled west and finally given way to rain here in Osaka. It starts up as Yamapi boards the train, jeweling on the windows and painting the iron railings with streaks of reflective white. He stands near the doors, back to the other passengers, but he's not surprised at all when he hears a stifled gasp and the familiar clack of fingernails on plastic.
Yamapi gets out one stop early. As he's leaving the station, he glances at his phone. Since he arrived in Osaka thirty-seven minutes ago, he's gotten seven new voicemails (manager, unknown, publicist, unknown, unknown, unknown, manager), four emails (family, Jin, Jin, Shirota), and eighteen missed calls (half manager, half unknown). He stares at the screen until the rain covers it. Then he breathes in, wipes it clean against the thigh of his jeans, and turns it off.
He buys a cheap umbrella at the convenience store and walks to Ryo's apartment roughing his hand through his hair and shucking off the excess water.
There's a long moment after Yamapi dials Ryo's apartment number at the door that he's convinced he won't get in. Either Ryo won't let him in or Ryo just might not be there. Ryo might actually be answering some of his phone calls, might already be slaving away on a strategy to make this go away, putting in hours or even days of effort into a scheme that will permanently erase the last thirty hours.
He almost forgets to grab the door handle when he's buzzed in.
Ryo's standing in the open doorway, phone wedged between his shoulder and his ear. He doesn't betray any kind of reaction as he steps back and allows Yamapi inside.
Yamapi toes his sodden sneakers off and stands in the hallway in his damp socks, watching Ryo talk about the situation with his manager like a professional.
When he hangs up, Yamapi blurts, "I'm sorry," like it's one syllable.
Ryo says, "It's okay," but quietly, holding his cell phone in both hands like he doesn't know it's there.
Yamapi sees the screen light up, but it's switched on silent, and Ryo doesn't see it.
Dragging some rationality together, Yamapi says, "Has anything else been released?"
Ryo pockets the phone and puts a hand through his hair, dry and rumpled. "Yeah, just. Hang on. Uh, come on. Come in."
Hours go by. Yamapi misses the last train. He sits still and quiet on Ryo's couch and listens while Ryo talks to various staff members, his manager, and then the publicist on both his and Yamapi's behalf. When Ryo hangs up, Yamapi finally calls his manager back and ends up saying very little. He fights the urge to slouch even though his manager can't see him, but when Ryo pulls a chair up close and sits in front of him so their knees almost touch, Yamapi's back naturally curves to bring his body closer to Ryo's.
At two in the morning, Yamapi hangs up and gets halfway through saying, "I'll call Jin," when Ryo leans in and covers Yamapi's mouth with his.
Yamapi's fingers find Ryo's knee and dig in until Ryo makes a low noise in the back of his throat and pulls back.
Yamapi wants to ask if Ryo thinks this is worth it. No one else has ever incited so much chaos over something like this. But they can still try and go in reverse. They can still go back thirty-five hours to when this was formless and fun.
He's still gripping Ryo's knee.
Ryo pretends not to notice, just rests his elbows on his thighs, one very close to Yamapi's hand.
Ryo's phone lights up, and both of them look at it where it's sitting next to Yamapi's on the couch. Ryo doesn't otherwise react, not even to make an automatic reach for it, just gazes at the screen even after it goes dark again.
Yamapi looks at his hand on Ryo's knee and surrenders control of his body to whatever part of his brain made him change trains on his way home in Tokyo to come here instead. He watches his hand lift off Ryo's knee and touch Ryo's hand. Watches his fingers find the spaces between Ryo's and curl until they've pulled Ryo's palm tight against his.
They watch six more calls go to voicemail, then Ryo turns both phones off with his free hand.
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SOMEDAY I WILL REPLY TO YOUR FIC/FICBITS COHERENTLY, WITHOUT KEYSMASHING LIKE AN ALPACA. TODAY... is not that day.
THEY ARE DOOMED and warm and aslkjfljfyuwqydfohaslkjlfkjolaskljfklksoiup0wuoelfkjlakjssjhfkjascbnjhszuyqw8uejlsljuakjljkfslio8eq89wlihflkjas;iopf89jlaskfnnbshjbgcjhzbmsnhdiyiqaysuhfkhasjlfjasljklfaskjiuorwi the hug and Yamapi randomly travelling to Osaka and Ryo being a professional nomatterwhat and alskjfkj ;_; THEY ARE DOOMED, AREN'T THEY?
*__________________________________________________* <3 <3 <3
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DOOMED IN THE MOST DOOMIESTEST WAY. DOOMED TO CONSTANT PHYSICAL SATISFACTION. POOR LADS. :(
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♥
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♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
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ugh the way you write description is so good, it makes me want to give up writing forever BECAUSE CLEARLY AWESOMENESS HAS ALREADY BEEN ACHIEVED RIGHT HERE a;lsdkfjasd it's all so sparse and every little detail counts for so much and. yes. as;dlkfjasas;dkgdsd!!!
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Still, thank you for making me grin all sparkly-like.
(Shiiiigeeeee.)
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(ryo~)