suju786 (suju786) wrote,

I Think I Hate You Enough To Love You 17/? (4/8)

“Hah?” Jin glanced back down at the phone in his hands, eyes adjusting quickly to a — he blinked. A digital police record.
“What is…?” He glanced up to where Kazuya had turned away, alert and slightly paranoid-looking as he hugged himself and stared back at the glass patio door behind him (to where Tatsuya slept behind drawn blinds).

The elder turned back down, eyes roving as he glanced at the screen. Akanishi Rokka – the name caught his eyes. And he frowned, noting that Kazuya had given him a digital investigation report with his father’s name listed under both ‘subject’ and ‘first responder’ – and suddenly, he was far more invested in this than he’d been just a second ago. “Dad-,” he breathed, sitting up abruptly – scanning the document Kazuya had pulled up.

Internal Investigation #5908: January 1st, 2012, it read. Commanding Captain’s account: 1:22 AM, multiple 119 calls placed to the Ishiyama Precinct, all originating from The Kēji Complex’s Underground Trade Center; west sector – First Syndicate’s jurisdiction. Upon arrival: blackout due to severed electricity lines resulting in multiple electrical fires. People were running from the central theater’s exits, mass pandemonium due to lack of lighting and panic. Inside the theater: we appear to have walked in on a disrupted black market business deal. Multiple victims in masks bleeding out on the seats, many injured, many dead.

Jin’s lower lips trembled. That last word… he read it again; over and over until his stomach churned.

Missing culprit(s), they’ve fled the scene, the report continued, underground mercenaries suspected.
Among the… “fifty…seven casualties,” Jin read aloud from the report, eyes wide, heart stalling because-, “fifty-seven…,” he whispered and traced the words with his fingers like he had to make sure what he was reading was real and physical and-, “Kazuya,” his mouth went dry, “Kazuya,” his voice shook, “Kazuya, he made a mistake - Dad made a mistake, it says fifty-seven here,” he looked up worriedly, “he says Yamapi killed fifty-seven people here, not… thir…ty…”

Kazuya wasn’t looking at him.

He was staring at the floor. Hard.
Very sincerely avoiding him.

Jin’s throat went sore. Something inside him turned very, very cold – and suddenly… suddenly oxygen seemed to hurt. Breathing hurt.
Something akin to a whimper scraped pitifully up through his sternum as he turned back to his phone, eyes lingering on the doubled number of deceased.

Among the fifty-seven casualties: Chinese Triad leaders, Dons: Lao Tsu and Lia Mei, twelve Triad heirs and multiple bodyguards; Executives of The Indian Black Market Association, Rahul Asta, Shredar Kanna, and Prutha Raaj; their left tenants: Kiaan Raaj, Lakshay and Jayesh Balan, Amira Sumitra, Hiran Arya and multiple bodyguards. Filipino Godfather, Aizel Mendoza, and three of his active sons…

The list went on for a page and a half, names upon titles upon ranks, rats of all ethnicities and statuses – the ultimate treasure trove for an upstanding police officer that wasn’t of Ishiyama descent. Jin just stared hollowly, reading slowly through the names of those fallen at his best friend’s hands.

“What is this…?” He asked after a while, once he was significantly traumatized and disturbed. “What’re you-?” He glanced up.
“Those people,” Kazuya’s nails were digging deep into his elbows through his sleeves as he held himself guarded and stiff, “were potential buyers… at my auction.”
“Auc-!” Jin turned back down, eyes immediately flicking back to the date of the report – 2012. He drew a breath, quickly skimming through the first half of his father’s investigation again – “this was…,” he murmured as he read through it, “…this was your auction?” He lifted his head, “Dad stormed your…?”

He was shaking.
Kazuya was a ghostly, trembling mess by the time he glanced back up – eyes wide and dilated, and staring off into either a hallucination or an equally nightmarish memory.
“Those people…,” he repeated, “they would’ve bought me if Yamapi hadn’t killed them,” he whispered, voice turning heated and feverish – words blending together as he hurried to get them out of his mouth like he couldn’t stand the taste, “they would’ve used me – th-the way Grandfather had, they would’ve taken me away from Yuzan –,” error; Jin’s brow disappeared into his bangs – had he realized what he’d just said…? About the father he'd never really considered a father...?

“Th-they would’ve-,” he hugged himself tighter, a particularly strong tremor racking violently through him as he shook his head quickly. As Jin watched, the moment seemed to pass – a degree of serenity returning to him, but just a degree. He stopped, took a deep breath and tilted his head. “He’s not a monster, Jin,” he chided softly, “he protected me, he’s not a monster – how can someone like that be a monster? Huh? That doesn’t make sense-.”

HE wasn’t making sense.

Jin had stopped listening a while back, when he’d started justifying the murder of fifty-seven people, innocent or not. He was watching now instead, studying – the way Kazuya held himself like he was trying to protect himself from some phantom nightmare, from a hallucination; the glassiness of his eyes, the dilation of his pupils – irises of hazel just barely there behind bottomless emptiness.

He’d made a hero complex out of the person that hurt the people who’d hurt him, could anyone blame him? Poor Kazuya. He was as much a victim of insanity as Yamapi was, this Jin understood by the time he’d started making excuses for a mass murderer.


Of course, he was a monster; Yamapi was a monster.
One with a soft spot for Kazuya.

By default, Kazuya would accept anything and everything he would do; if Yamapi had committed genocide, Kazuya would only be seeing the fact that he’d been saved from being bought by other countries. Blind, he was – to the fact that he still belonged to Hikifune Kei nonetheless, to the fact that Yamapi had been strong enough - mysteriously skilled enough - to kill so many of the Underground. Yamapi had hurt the people who’d tried to hurt him, and that was all that mattered to him.

Of course, he wouldn’t think Yamapi was a monster. Not when he was half a monster himself for letting him get away with genocide.

Jin sat back slowly, as he let this train of thought run its toll. Kazuya’s insane, he’s made the people around him insane – he remembered Kouji’s warning – you’ve got issues too, Akanishi. Not as bad as this though. Considering that his code of ethics still remained solid at his core, Jin supposed he wasn’t as nuts as either of these two; but these two… these two were something else…

With thumbnail wedged between his teeth, he watched in silence as Kazuya went on.

This conversation about his auction – it had triggered a bad memory, glassy eyes and hints of madness. Had Tatsuya knowingly been trying to avoid this?
Jin swallowed, parched throat aching as he did, when the question came to mind. Back on the plane, he’d warned them – I’m trying to protect you fools.

“Tsk,” the idol hissed softly, realizing he should’ve tried listening for once. If this, Kazuya devolving into nonsense, was what the memory of 2012 amounted to – it wasn’t worth it. He could see why Tatsuya would’ve been trying to avoid it all together, God, all he’d had to do was listen to Tatsuya. “Idiot,” he berated himself softly, before planting his feet on the deck and getting up.

“Kazu,” he called as he walked over, stepped up right in front of him, and dipped his head so that he could get an eyeful of those horrifyingly beautiful glassy eyes.
The younger blinked, mid-sentence, ever so slightly disoriented – “hah-?” He started.
And Jin reached down, smoothing the back of his index over the apple of his cheek, “God, you’re so crazy…,” he whispered absently to himself, his touch wandering off ever so gently as he stared into empty rings of hazel. He shuddered when he saw that the dark depths ran deep and endless, “sorry,” he murmured after a moment, “I’m sorry,” he repeated a little louder, “I shouldn’t have brought this up – shouldn’t have made you remember that - forget it, forget I ever said anything.

Kazuya blinked back him, mouth shutting for a moment as his eyes wandered somewhere for a moment before he looked back up – “Yamapi-?”
“I’ll make up with him,” Jin promised, “as soon as everybody wakes up, I’ll make up with him.”

But the stare stayed, and Kazuya continued studying him blankly with a hint of suspicion now.
“I will,” Jin insisted, “I was planning on talking to him anyway, I promise – now go,” he hurried to open the patio door behind Kazuya back up and push him inside; like maybe if he slept this off, he’d forget this ever happened – or at least they could pretend as much – “Ji-!”

He yanked the door shut and held his breath for a moment before breathing out heavily when he realized Kazuya had no intention of dragging this weirdness out any longer.
He sighed as he turned and slid back against the glass, gaze lifting back to the skies; heart heavy as he tried not to think about having to confront his best friend.


“Hey,” would be a good start; he wrinkled the nose at how feeble it’d sounded. “Tomo…,” he continued, just a little louder, “killing people… it’s wrong…,” he whispered to the slight glow of the rising moon on the evening horizon. He waited for a moment after that, pondered how that would sound in the reality of a conversation before groaning and rolling his eyes. ‘Idiot,’ he berated himself in silence; like he was brave enough to even start any conversation, much less that one in particular.

“Ugh,” he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut and sticking his hands down into his pockets instead. On second thought, a better start might be actually listening to the three messages his best friend had left him. Yes, avoiding Yamapi sounded like a plan. Jin tried not to think how counterproductive he was being and lifted his phone to his ear once he found it. Gazing off into empty space once more, he listened to silence for a moment before, “Jin,” some sad excuse of a sleep-deprived human being said. A yawn reverberated through the speaker, and Jin rolled his eyes considering shutting his phone off again – “thought I should let you know…,”


Meanwhile, a knock rang out on the KAT-TUN’s suite door – bang, bang, bang – a soft racket on oak.
“Tsk,” came floating out from somewhere in the general vicinity of where Junno, Nakamaru and Koki lay half dead.

“Lunch and refreshments, sirs,” came a quiet voice after an even softer creak of an opening door.
“Leave it somewhere,” Nakamaru muttered roughly, curling away from the sudden burst of dimming light.

“Drinks in the fridge then, sandwiches on the table,” the voice replied. And the soft sounds of glass and metal that followed rose and fell with the hum of the refrigerator, the shuffling of cloth against cloth; muffled claps of heels against the carpet, the gentle clicks of opening and closing cabinets and the soft tinkling of a chain against its pendants (the sound of bells, small bells).

Tatsuya blinked drowsily, rousing reluctantly from his light nap to this gentle racket. From a sleepy slumber, he just barely registered an anomaly; something ever so slightly amiss in the cogs of the world around him and the way in which they turned just a degree out of sync. He blinked once more, hoping it would make all the difference. But the migraine he’d been nursing for an hour now clawed ever mercilessly at his nerves. He grimaced. What was it? What was bothering him?

He blinked again, his bleary eyes darting around far too quickly.
“Something’s wrong…,” he whispered to himself. One hand pressed to his temple, the other leveraged against his pillow, he sat up – “something’s… wrong.” He repeated once more, awake now - “Kazu,” he croaked and patted around blindly on the bed until he remembered the younger had taken Jin out to talk.

In the background, the faint white noise of Tokoro’s servant leaving their suite came in the form of the soft creaking of their door.
The raw feeling of premonition left with him.

Tatsuya shuddered. He didn’t like this.

An irritated frown dug deep between his brows. And he turned to the patio door instead, where the drawn blinds hid the deck and its looming sights from prying eyes. Were they still talking? “KAZUYA!” He barked.
“The f-?” Koki jumped half out of his skin.
“Uebo, no.” Junno muttered at the same time, rolling away.
“WHER-?” Tatsuya continued mercilessly.

Until the bathroom door banged open. “What.” Kazuya snapped sharply, “go back to sleep, Tat-chan, you’re waking the whole mansion up, Tokoro-san will kick us out-.”
Tatsuya ignored the rest in favor of glancing him over instead. Nothing seemed out of place. And yet… he turned to survey the room, mouth twisting when he found that nothing there seemed inherently panic-inducing either.

So then what was he feeling? What had he been feeling just before the servant had left?
What… had he missed? What had gone wrong out of sight? Without his knowledge of it-?

“Tatsuya,” he flinched, easing slightly when his gaze landed on Kazuya getting back up on the bed after having returned from the bathroom while he’d been fumbling about in his paranoid haze.
“Go to sleep,” the younger fluffed his pillow, turning away before he lay down himself, “you probably just had a nightmare.”

Doubtful. Tatsuya sniffed haughtily deciding not to comment. Leaning back on his palms he watched the way the younger curled tightly into himself from the corner of his eyes.
“How’d it go with Jin?” He dared to pry.
“Good,” floated out of the comforter.

“Lies,” Tatsuya called out.
Kazuya just played at having fallen asleep.
The elder watched on for a moment before rolling his eyes. “Grow up already,” he muttered just loud enough to see the latter cringe as he turned away and got comfy on his side of the bed.


“…Sanae-sensei called –,” Yamapi’s message went on, “said neither of your parents are answering their phones,” Jin blinked, “… Reio…,” Yamapi yawned, “…he got up,” his listener jumped. Suddenly, he remembered Kazuya’s irritation when he’d been avoiding this call a half hour ago – it made sense now considering that his sister-in-law or Yamapi would’ve contacted him at the same time they would’ve contacted Jin about his little brother, “a few hours ago. You might want to-,” Jin never got to hear the end of that, dialing up his little brother far faster than Yamapi got through his next yawn.

“Reio?” He demanded anxiously when his call was picked up on the third ring.
“…Yoooo…,” crackled in from the other end after a few moments worth of silence, and Jin nearly melted straight through the deck with relief, “oh my God, you’re up,” he wheezed breathlessly, thanking his every lucky star as he shut eyes, hand pressing tightly over his raging heart.
“Still kicking,” Reio rasped through the other line, laughing slightly though he ended with a rough cough.
And Jin just heaved a hefty sigh of relief, catching himself up on the oxygen he’d deprived himself of while he’d been holding his breath waiting for the younger to pick up. “Thank God,” he murmured heavily, “I tho-…,” he trailed off when the thought of losing his little brother made the heart under his palm heart twist right into itself. It hurt. Swallowing his anxiety, he opted for positivity and asked instead, “when did you wake up?”

“Like an hour ago-.”
“How do you feel?” Jin interrupted eagerly.
“Are they taking care of you? The doctors? The nurses? I’ve heard nurses are sometimes assholes – Reio, are they being assholes? Also, did you call mom and dad?” His brother blazed on, “why aren’t they answering?” He demanded bitterly, “you’d think they’d want to answer their bed-ridden kid’s call –.”
“What the fuck are they even doing? Where the hell is dad-?”

The elder halted, sounding like he’d cut short a breath to simmer down.
“Dude,” his brother sighed, “hello to you too.”
“…Mh,” Jin groaned, pushing his free hand up into his face and scrubbing back his hair. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “How are you?” He asked again after a moment, “are you eating well?”
“I mean if hospital food is considered eating well-,” Reio started reluctantly.
“Do you want me to come back?” Jin immediately sat up, “I’m just a few hours away, I can get a flight back in an hour – I’ll just need to -.”

“What – no, Jin. Chill – oh my God, my girlfriend’s not going to come over if you’re here 24/7.”
“Hah?” His older brother huffed skeptically, the lion half of his anxiety dissipating right then and there, “did you just-?”
“I mean dude, this is the most attention I’ve gotten from her since forever-.”
“The fuck?” Jin wrinkled his nose, “punk.” He stated most seriously,you’d rather spend your time with a hoe instead of your brother?”

“Uhh,” Reio replied, “I mean… yes. Obviously.”
“Ugh,” Jin rolled his eyes insufferably.
“Duh?” Reio continued skeptically, “Jin her food is better than yours. Obviously homemade meals are going to get priority over your daily scrambled eggs.”
“Okay, so your head’s fine, I guess,” Jin muttered dejectedly, leaning back into the patio door, “when are you being discharged?”

“Sanae-sensei says a week and a half tops,” his little brother cleared his throat, “says I woke up earlier than expected, so she wants to keep me under observation for a while.”
“Hn,” Jin hummed, eyes wandering until they fell on the deck where his gaze lingered on the light scratch marks Kazuya’s fidgeting had left on the wooden plans near his leg. “Do you want me to try calling mom or dad-?”

“Oh, Hellllllll no.”
Jin’s brows rose, “okay then.”
“Jin, you will not call them.”
“I didn’t say I was going to, oh my God,” the elder wrinkled his nose, “have some faith in me, will you?”
“No,” Reio sniffed haughtily, “if Mom shows up here for no reason, I’m holding it against you.”

Jin groaned, rolling his eyes, “Jesus Chr-.”
“FOREVER.” Reio warned.
“Go back to sleep,” the latter huffed, “you’re cranky as hell,” he informed.
“I am no-.”
“Get better soon,” his brother interrupted cheerily, “I’ll call in a bit, ‘kay? Love you, byyyeeeeeeeeee-,” he hung up just as Reio had started snapping something back. He sighed as he pulled the phone away from himself once more and stared at the contacts book his call screen had just dissipated into from there.

Akanishi Rokka was listed just under Akanishi Reio.

Having known him long enough, his little brother didn’t trust him with not calling their parents without reason because - “sorry, brat,” Jin muttered into space like Reio would somehow hear his apology in advance as he tapped on his father’s name.
No answer on the first try, or the second, or the third, or the fourth – “WAKE THE FUCK UP!” He barked when his ninth call was answered.

“J… in?” Gurgled through the other end of the phone.
“Reio woke up from his coma,” Jin snapped, “where are you?”

“What- Reio… shit, when?”
“Dad.” Jin wrinkled his nose. “Fucking useless,” he muttered to himself under his breath as he pushed himself off the deck and got to his feet; then louder, “get to the hospital. Stay there – keep an eye on everyone who visits him, tell me who visits him-,” – the last thing he needed was any suspicious asshat trying their luck with Reio’s life again. His father might’ve been a corrupt cop but a cop all the same; drawing from his childhood experiences, the mafia – no matter how powerful – tended to avoid the fuzz unless absolutely necessary.
“Alright, alright – I’m going, Jin – calm down-.”

“Dad,” Jin snapped irritably, “do. It. Reio might be in trou-.”
“Jin,” his father sighed, “I’ll take care of him, don’t worry.”
His son frowned, “I wouldn’t have had to make this call if you were,” he sneered bitterly.

His father just grunted tiredly. “Where’s your mother?” He asked instead as things rattled around the background, stray wisps of low conversations and smooth jazz filling in the white noise of Rokka’s side of the call. Jin twitched irritably when the muffled music brought forth the picture of his father gathering himself up at – “you’re at the bar?” He snapped.
“Don’t start, son.”
“What is wrong with you?!” Jin flung his hand into the air, “your son is in a coma – a coma! The least you could’ve done-!”
“ALRIGHT!” His father barked back, and the slam of what Jin assumed was the club door, rang through the phone, “I’m a shitty father, alright – I’m going to the hospital now, did you have anything else to say or not?”

“Tsk!” Jin hissed, “why’re you like this?”
“I’m hanging up then-.”
“Wait,” his son snapped reluctantly, “something else.”

A car door slammed, an engine revved.

“What, there’s more?” His father sighed, “look Jin, I’m sorry, my bad -  I’m going – I’ll keep an eye on him, make sure he eats-.”
“New Years,” Jin interrupted abruptly, “January 1st, 2012,” he swallowed, nervously licking his lips, “you busted an underground auction.”
A moment of silence followed. “I what?” Rokka grunted after it, “what’re we talking about right now, boy? What happened to Rei-?”

“Focus,” Jin frowned desperately, “I’m asking you about a case you had in 2012, the first of January – Internal affairs had you investigated for it-,” he continued, remembering the IA report Kazuya had given to him just minutes earlier.
“Wha-?” His father fumbled, before gathering himself after a few moments, “Jin, it’s 2015, what’re you talking about-?”
“The Kēji Complex-!” His son exclaimed, just a tad too loud, “the First Syndicate’s Trade Center?”

“What?” The man on the other end frowned slowly, “son, what are you even-?”
Catching himself, Jin quickly cleared his throat, glancing over his shoulder like he was worried Tatsuya could hear him through the patio door.
“Jin, what are you talking about – I can’t remember what happened three years ago-.”

“Try to!” The younger demanded as he turned back, “at 1:30 AM on New Years in 2012, you told the internal investigation officers that your precinct received tons of 119 calls from the Kēji Complex – Dad, it was a genocide.”
“Kid, we have genocides here every day,” Rokka replied exasperatedly, “gang wars, blood feuds, vendettas - I can’t go around remembering them all – now look,” he sighed, “I’m on the road right now, I’ll be at the hospital in thirty minutes, okay? I’ll call when I’m there, Jin - I’m hanging up now.”

“Wait, Da-!” And he was gone. “Tsk,” Jin frowned as he pulled his phone down and stared suspiciously at it.
About 1000 or so miles away in Ishiyama, Akanishi Rokka stared at his phone from where he’d tossed it into the empty passenger’s seat of his car. Mouth twisted, he decided not to think too much about what his son had just demanded of him and drove on.

Back in the suite, Tatsuya twisted and turned. No.
He slept uncomfortably, the strangest feeling creeping through his veins. No, something was off.

The patio door slipped open and shut – the gentle zip of glass against metal; footsteps.
Jin was probably coming back in.

Tatsuya curled into his blankets, knotted and tangled himself between the cloths as he tried to get back to a state of peaceful sleep but - no, no, no, something was wrong.
A couch squeaked as Jin dropped back into it.

Something was very, very wrong.


Hours passed before Jin realized something was wrong as well. Half asleep, half awake, and half depressed that he hadn’t been with Reio when he’d woken up – he blinked. He smelt it before he saw it; rusting metal. And even then, his first impulse hadn’t been panic, it had been glancing towards the bathroom, wondering if his wife had forgotten to stock up on pads and tampons and – wait.

He wasn’t married anymore.

“Eh?” He blinked, having been jarred back into the workings of a modern divorcee. He flinched then, the sudden sting at his own wrist accompanied with reality suddenly hitting him head on.
Rusting metal! It wasn’t an untimely period – no, he didn’t have a wife anymore, so what…?

He gasped, flipping over his hand to stare at the small red scratches appearing first on his right wrist, then his left before he glanced up over the screen of his laptop and eyed the bed in front of him. Indeed, a patch of red was forming near Kazuya, and Tatsuya was beginning to stir.
Red. His eyes refocused back on the younger, and he slowly sat up, a hesitant frown breaching his face as he set his laptop aside and made for the mattress to investigate.

The spot of red on Kazuya’s side of the bed was growing; slowly, slowly – the unmistakable flow of thick blood seeping into satin white – “…what?” Jin whispered to himself, and ever so carefully reached out to pull the sheets back. Inch by inch, the idol’s form came to light.

Curled into himself he was, lazy and exhausted and very obviously asleep – but just as consciously tearing away at the skin of his right wrist. Jin’s breath stalled. Comforter still hanging precariously from his fingertips, the rest of his body went into arrest as well. He watched in a perfectly chaotic silence as Kazuya slept peacefully, but subconsciously cut deeper and deeper into wrist with his own nails-

…“Tatsuya had to shackle him down to the bed every single night-,” Junno’s words from the day Kai had bombed Kazuya’s studio suddenly resurfaced amid memories that were drowned in the blaze of fire and blood, “– had to put a gag on him because he screamed so loud in his nightmares – Jin, Tat-chan had to bandage him every, single morning because he’d tear himself up trying to kill himself in his sleep –”…

“What did you do…?” Tatsuya suddenly breathed. Jin flinched, gaze rising as he noted that the elder had gotten up at some point. Eyes wide, he slowly shook his head as he watched their youngest, like in rejecting reality it would truly just revert back to a nightmare – “Jin, what did you do?” He whispered.
“Wh-?” Jin started.
Tatsuya’s head snapped up, “what did you say to him?!” He gasped; wrist flicking out so fast Jin had no idea he’d been caught until after the fact, “Jin, what did you say to him-.”
“Wha-? Tatsuya! I didn’t – say – any-,” he jerked frantically at his own captured wrist only to find that the grip simply clenched tighter with every attempt – “Jin, this is serious! What did you make Kazuya remember?!”

The auction.

Jin stilled. His breath caught in his lungs mid-gasp, and his eyes widened slowly. Suddenly he remembered the way Kazuya had looked up at him on the patio deck - black, glassy eyes, snowy complexion and all. “That…?” he breathed carefully.
“What ‘that’?!” Tatsuya had let go of him now, in favor of grabbing Kazuya’s wrists and holding him down instead, “help me,” he snapped when Jin stared on incredulously and Kazuya sleepily tried to wiggle out of his constraints.


“Sorry, sorry-,” He grabbed at Kazuya the moment Tatsuya left his side, leaning past him and off the edge of the bed where he grabbed the duffle bag at Jin’s feet and emptied it all out on the floor.
“The hell did you say?” He demanded as he came back a moment later, dumping out something that looked like an open makeup bag from which gauze, sports wrapping tape, and handcuffs spilled from.

“I just,” Jin shrank into himself, “…asked him about why Yamapi killed-.”
“You asked him about the auction?!”
Jin grimaced.

“WHY DO YOU THINK I STOPPED HIM ON THE PLANE?!” He suddenly exploded, and Jin peeked over cautiously.
The elder was busily disinfecting the cuts on Kazuya’s wrists and wrapping them up quickly with gauze first, then the wrapping tape before the blood flow could start again.
“I’m sor-.”
“Jin, Kazuya isn’t stable,” Tatsuya continued hurriedly – desperately - consciously having lowered his voice as he glanced up at the younger, “he isn’t okay, you can’t just make him remember the worst thing that’s ever happened to him-,” Jin paled, “what’s wrong with you?” He whispered, more to himself as he clapped the handcuffs onto Kazuya’s wrists last and hooked them through the bedframe, “God, I can’t do this again…,” he continued softly as he locked the shackles into place, “Kazu, don’t do this again,” he whispered in an even softer voice as he slowly pulled away from the handcuffs, staring worriedly down at their band leader.

“Is he…?” Jin asked carefully after a moment.
Tatsuya kept silent for a moment before snapping his head back up and narrowing his eyes at the accused. “No.” He cut back, “no, he’s not going to be alright because, in case you haven’t noticed,” he gestured to the entirety of the peacefully sleeping man, “he wasn’t ‘alright’ to begin with, Jin.”

Tatsuya clucked irritably, pinching the bridge of his nose, “yes.” He said quietly after a while, “yes,” he glanced at Jin, “we’re lying to you. I’m lying to you – you want to know why so badly?!” He flung a hand at their youngest, “because it helps him forget, Jin. It helps him forget that he belongs to Kei, that he doesn’t belong up here, that he’s the mafia’s plaything – Jin,” he held his hands out in front of him pleadingly, “we’re not doing this to hurt you. Listen to me, please,” he begged, “for the last time, I. am trying. To protect you. To protect everyone - if you figure out this entire thing out right now, things will go very wrong-.”

“What things?” Jin hurried to jump in. He was an awful human being and he knew it, but curiosity was going to kill the cat. “Just tell me what things exactly?”

Tatsuya went still. He looked like he was going to bust a nerve as he twitched in a way that wasn’t entirely sane, “well, if you want to die so badly, I guess you’ll find out soon enough,” he snapped sharply with a forced calm before abruptly flinging the blankets up and slipping under them.

“I’m asleep. Go away.”
“And don’t talk to anyone about this-,” it was punctuated with a couple of pillow to Jin’s face and the conclusive snarl off, “now fuck off.”

Jin, who lay incapacitated under two bolster pillows on the floor, sighed quietly in defeat at the ceiling.
The first thing a majority of the vacationing idols would hear at exactly 6:11 PM that evening would be someone screaming at the top of their lungs, “I LIVE.”
“Shut up,” Jin advised, chucking a spoon at Yamapi’s head from where he sat at the kitchen island, “if you value your life.”
Sakurai flung a fork at his head as he walked past just because. “He doesn’t,” he explained guiltlessly while the younger whined and Jin basked in the pride of I told so-ness.

“Ugh, good evening to you too, bastards,” Yamapi muttered as he came over to Jin, snatching up the coffee pot and pouring himself a mug. “When did you wake up?”
“Earlier than I had to,” the elder rolled his eyes.
“Let me guess,” Yamapi hopped up onto the stool beside his and leaned in close, “you and Kazuya were fighting?”

Jin cast him a side glance. “How much you got bet on that?”
“Busted~,” Yamapi grinned sheepishly, “¥1500 on you having started it.”
“He did,” Jin wrinkled his nose, and Yamapi groaned, rolling his eyes and shaking his head for second, muttering something that could’ve been, “why’re you so useless?”
“Wha-?!” Jin wheezed into his mug, but the younger nudged him in the shoulder before he could get the entire accusation out. “Nobody has to know that though, do they?” He wheedled, tongue stuck playfully out the side of his mouth.

“Ugh,” Jin huffed irritably, turning away from him and bringing his coffee mug up to his lips, “get lost, crook.”
“Aww, just say you started it,” Yamapi immediately started whining, “so many other people bet on Kazuya having started, like you don’t understand bro – I could win, big time-.”
“Oh, speaking of which,” Jin turned back to him, “apparently you guys bet on whether we’re sleeping together or not?”

“What-? That?” Yamapi straightened slightly, “dude, we’ve been doing that since before we debuted.”
“The fu-?!” Jin choked, “why?!”
“I mean…,” the younger shrugged, “…you’re Akame.”

Yamapi shrugged, gesturing vaguely to everything, “I don’t know – sexual tension?”
“Hah?” Jin cocked a brow.
The younger flung his hands out into the air, “it makes sense if it’s you two doesn’t it?”
“It doesn’t,” Jin deadpanned.
“Fuck you,” the latter grumbled moodily, sticking his nose back in his coffee. “You should know though,” he added after a sip, “I mean if us betting on you and Kazuya so much bothers you and all-.”
“It doesn’t,” Jin rolled his eyes, “I just didn’t know what you idiots were-.”

“Literally everyone also bets on whether we’re sleeping together or not,” Yamapi finished easily.
And Jin immediately narrowed his eyes at him. “How much have you stolen saying yes, we have?”
Yamapi smiled, “tons,” he murmured into his mug, looking up at the elder through his eyelashes.
Jin promptly whacked him over the head. “Slut,” he accused.

Part 5
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