defeminized (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
defeminized) wrote2011-08-21 02:05 am
defeminized) wrote2011-08-21 02:05 am
Entry tags:
When Art Imitates Life - Koki/Jin
Title: When Art Imitates Life
Wordcount: 2378
Rating: PG
Genre: Slight angst, slight fluff
Pairing: Koki/Jin
Warning: References to cross-dressing; Jincident; Jincident 2.0; and Jin’s solo song, Pinky.
Notes: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
becquinho, though this is inadequate as hell. Ilu ♥
Beta-ed bypinkeuphoria1; all other mistakes are mine.
Summary: Koki draws Jin.
--
“Koki, Koki,” Jin sings, “What are you drawing?”
Koki flips his drawing board. “It’s Florence-sama,” he sings along, beaming a smile at him.
Jin snatches the drawing board and waves it in front of Koki. “Look at this! She has blond, curly hair and she is wearing a pink uniform, are you sure you’re not drawing me?”
Jin is a little taller than he is, so Koki jumps a little to retrieve his drawing. “Don’t insult my art.” He blows the dusts away from the surface of his drawing. Jin clings to his side, nudging him earnestly.
“It’s me, right?”
Koki stares at the Florence Nightingale he has been drawing and silently agrees. Jin shouldn’t have dressed as a nurse in the skit they did the other day; Koki thinks it has been altering his subconscious perception of his imageries of Florence-sama.
Jin makes himself comfortable and settles his head on Koki’s lap. “What are you doing?” Koki asks.
“I think I should at least stay here while you draw me.”
Koki continues drawing Florence Nightingale sloppily, trying hard to dissociate the pre-formed image of the legendary nurse from the uniform-clad Jin.
He takes the ugly drawing as the universe’s way of telling him that he needs to say something about the particularly stimulating image of boys in female’s clothes. Therefore, he starts mentally composing rap lyrics with multiple references to Jin in nurse uniform. Lyrics that he will never write down anywhere.
“You’re so talented in drawing,” Jin praises. Clearly, he needs to start acquiring better taste in art, Koki thinks.
--
“Hayato’s really hot,” Koki says, ruffling Jin’s thick, soft and perfectly groomed hair.
Nakamaru’s making disgusted noises. “Koki, stop saying things that make us want to throw something at you.”
“But it’s true!” Koki shouts back at Nakamaru.
“Sexy body, right, Koki?” Taguchi grins mischievously.
“Stop teasing Koki,” Jin snaps at everyone. Then, he turns to Koki and cheekily asks, “But I am really hot, right?”
He is.
--
Jin goes to find Koki at his place when he has just shaved his head for a yakuza role.
“So cool,” Jin murmurs as he rubs Koki’s head with his palm. “I want to get a yakuza role too, but all I have been getting are delinquent and perverted salaryman roles.”
“Liking an older woman is not being perverted,” Koki whacks Jin’s head, earning him a girlish-sounding cry of pain from Jin.
Koki reverts to Jin and rubs his back, repeating “sorry, sorry” over and over again. He has never been good at hurting anyone without having to apologise incessantly after. Especially not Jin.
“It hurts when you do that,” Jin whines. Koki knows Jin doesn’t mean it and that he just likes to whine. “Especially when your head looks like a microphone now.”
Koki whacks Jin again. “My head has nothing to do with it!”
He doesn’t rub Jin back and he doesn’t apologise this time. They laugh and raid Koki’s Eminem CD collection. Jin thinks that Koki should rap The Real Slim Shady in their next concert. Koki declines. If Jin wants Koki to perform Eminem then maybe Jin should perform a Korn song, he insists.
Jin pretends to puke. He doesn’t like Korn, though he likes Here to Stay[1].
The TV shows a preview for the next episode of Nobuta wo Produce. Apparently, Kame’s character is going to experience massive distrust from his classmates.
Koki sees Jin clenches his fist, teeth biting lower lips and eyes glaring at the screen. Koki pulls him close to him and lays his microphone-like head on his arm. He takes the drawing board, which has been conveniently placed above his CD shelf, and doodles himself in his yakuza look and Jin in his Hayato fashion.
“I think Hayato would get along with my character,” Koki tells him.
He leaves out the tiny detail of how he’s going to be playing a character named Kazuya[2].
--
“Do I look good in this?” Koki asks, randomly putting on a wig they just found on the abandoned room next to their dressing room that’s mainly used to contain unwanted and unusable materials from past concerts.
Jin grabs a worn-out hat and puts it on Koki. “When I don’t have to see your face, yes. You look weird in girly wigs.”
Koki fastens the wig and the hat in front of a dusty glass cabinet.
“Ohhhhh,” Jin exclaims excitedly. “Not bad, now that I’m looking at you from the side.”
Koki pouts at the mirror. “I’d do me,” he proudly declares. He sashays to Jin, much to Jin’s surprise, and delicately pulls his shirt, slowly lowering himself down to a very compromising position.
“Would you?” he asks Jin.
Jin only gulps. Koki drops that question and never asks again.
--
They find out about their debut a few months later.
Koki and Jin often make up songs with the title the old man Johnny suggested, usually accompanied by ridiculous yodeling and raps with horrible puns.
Koki remarks that one of the songs they have composed on a whim sounds like Korn’s Make Believe[3].
He’s lying through his teeth, of course, because if he were to be honest it actually sounds like Morning Musume’s Sexy Boy[4].
Jin likes neither comparisons and sulks like a little boy until Koki agrees to dress as a woman in a hat for his little extra something for their fans during his solo performance.
--
Koki is waiting for their plane to New York with Kame, Nakamaru, Ueda, Taguchi and their manager. Johnny-san will be heading there in his private plane in less than a day; they have been informed that he has an urgent business to attend to.
He can’t stop thinking about the drawing board he has left untouched since the day Jin had left for Los Angeles sometime last year, sitting on top of his CD shelf, gradually collecting dust.
--
“Koki, Koki,” Jin calls. His voice is deep and firm, no longer containing the playful, sing-song tone of his boyish years.
“Yea?” Koki answers, not lifting his head up from his doodles. He hardly pays attention to his surrounding when he’s drawing or writing his rap and he thinks that Jin should consider himself to be lucky enough to have gotten a reaction of any sort of him.
“Here,” Jin says, shoving a few CDs on top of Koki’s board. “I don’t know if you’ll like them, but I saw them as I went around shopping in the music stores. I thought they are quite your taste.”
Koki shifts through the stack. There’s an old Rage Against The Machine CD he already has and there are some he has never heard of.
He looks at Jin. “What are these?”
“Souvenirs.”
Jin is asking for forgiveness for leaving to Los Angeles. He doesn’t say it, doesn’t need to say it, because he’s a terrible liar, even more terrible at explaining himself and Koki doesn’t even need to think to know what Jin’s real intentions are anyway.
“Thank you,” Koki says.
By that, he really means “I forgive you”.
That’s probably why Jin never apologises to his face anymore.
--
They go to Jin’s house for takeout dinner after the karaoke session which will always be remembered as the time when they had sang the worst rendition of Garasu no Shounen ever.
Koki goes straight to raid Jin’s CD collection.
“Timbaland. D12. Justin Timberlake. Black Eyed Peas. Lil’ Wayne. Chris Brown.” Koki lists.
“What’s wrong? I thought you liked them,” Jin asks. He just got out of shower, water dripping from his hair to his shoulder. His body is pretty captivating; from the visible muscles to the solid back, it shows his natural sensuality best. Koki realises that Jin of now could not be put in a woman’s clothing and incite the reaction like he had in the past.
“Yes, I do,” Koki plays Justin’s CD, skips all the way to LoveStoned and starts dancing. At first it’s just random grooving like he usually does in clubs, then he starts to pop his chest and lock his wrists according to the music.
“Cool,” Jin says. He’s also grooving along, and Koki knows that he would have joined along if he wasn’t just wearing a piece of towel. He slides to Jin and drags him by the towel. Jin laughs.
“Hold on, you idiot,” he pushes Koki aside. “I’ll get my clothes and I’m so beating you with my signature sleazy moves.”
They dance a lot that night until they are both lying on Jin’s carpet. They have to stop anyway, Jin’s neighbour has just texted him asking him to turn down the music. Koki decides that it’s time for him to go home and rises slightly from the carpet, but Jin stops him.
“Koki,” Jin calls.
There’s no drawing or rap lyrics to keep him busy, so Koki turns to face Jin.
“I am considering quitting.”
Koki hopes his disappointment doesn’t show on his face. “Us?”
“Yes.”
“Is it because of us?”
“No, not you guys,” Jin replies, moving closer to Koki and cozying himself on Koki’s chest, hands on Koki’s stomach.
“Really?”
Jin’s hand grabs Koki’s shirt. “Yes,” he says. “Especially not you guys.”
Koki’s hand move to caress Jin’s face and tenderly play with his earlobe. “Not even Kame?”
Jin throws his head a little to the back so that his eyes meet Koki’s.
“Not even him.”
Koki doesn’t want to sound clingy, but he can’t help it.
“Then, please try to find a way to stay.”
--
Jin falls sick during one of their concerts in Tokyo Dome.
Koki reprimands him. “Shouldn’t have had that much alcohol yesterday, should you?”
Jin covers his eyes with his arms. “Shut up. I’m sick.”
He lies on the couch and waits for Koki to get him a bottle of isotonic water and a few cans of energy drinks. Jin sits up and turns to Koki, face weary and tired and eyes pleading.
Koki hugs him to his chest. “Stop whining, you’ll get better soon.”
“Koki’s the best,” Jin says, wrapping his arms around Koki’s waist. “Koki never judges me.”
It’s not really true, Koki thinks to himself.
--
“Koki,” Jin calls. “What are you drawing?”
After a finishing line and a dot, Koki flips the drawing board and shows Jin a pencil-drawn impression of Natsu in front of a microphone, almost as though he has the Bandage movie promotional poster traced.
Jin takes the piece of drawing and trails his 2-dimensional features. He has his long, thick hair tied up and an unshaved chin, probably looking the least attractive in this style than he has ever looked during his entire career. Koki doesn’t care; Jin still has the wistful, forlorn look permanently fixed on his face, unchanged by time and distance.
“It’s beautiful,” Jin beams. “Can I have it?”
Koki hesitates. He has never given Jin any of those he has of him. He gestures to retrieve the drawing and signs his name on it.
“To Jin,” Jin reads. “You will always be my special one.”
Koki writes the entire sentence in English and passes it to Jin, whose eyes are lighting up with glassy bliss.
It’s the only drawing Koki will ever give him.
--
“Are you still not talking to him?” Kame asks, “Or about him?”
Koki shakes his head, fingers diligently drawing up an image of him and his grown-up brother on a stage.
“If you miss him, make him call you back,” Kame says. Koki laughs. It’s so like Kame to keep a childish grudge.
After their rehearsals end and the shots for the car commercial have been reviewed, Koki heads back home to a welcoming Sakura-chan. She nibbles on his feet and Koki squats down to feed her with the meat chunks he has just bought for her.
“Sakura-chan,” he asks the canine, “do you think he still has that drawing I gave him?”
Sakura-chan barks happily, wags her tails, and jumps to latch on his shoulder. “Stop it,” Koki stops her, “you’re tickling me!”
She paws on him face and coos on his neck. Koki secures her in his arm and takes her to a corner of his room he has not touched in a few months.
The collection of sketches, drawings, and colourings he has of Jin throughout the years. A few months back, he had debated whether to burn them because he felt that only by burning them could he do to that raw, burning cut at the bottom of his heart some kind of justice. Until he realised that they could be masqueraded as his artistic portfolio.
He takes the messy pile of papers and stacks them properly.
--
They meet, accidentally, across the road from their favourite record store in Roppongi.
“Hey,” they exchange an awkward, tense greeting.
“Koki,” Jin calls. “Wanna grab a bite?”
They eat nearby, at this new American burger joint somewhere opposite Jin’s favourite Starbucks.
Jin orders a huge double cheeseburger, prompting Koki to ask, “How is it possible that you are so skinny now? You seem to be able to swallow an elephant with that appetite!”
Jin covers his mouth, suppressing his little laugh. “I still eat a lot, only this time people feed me food instead of fighting it away from me!”
Koki would have whacked him if they weren’t in a public place. “Doesn’t explain your rapid weight loss, idiot.”
He watches Jin eat as he waits for his order and they talk about everything under the sun. The people in America, the girls, the music, the stage.
“You were great,” Koki praises. “I watched your DVD.”
Jin blushes.
Koki stabs a few pieces of French fries with a fork. “Jin,” he starts softly. “Do you still have that drawing I gave you?”
“Yes,” Jin answers chirpily. “I have it framed.”
Koki smiles.
Jin might not call his name in a cheeky, sing-song tone anymore, nor are they going to dress up in female clothes to cater to each other’s whims.
But it doesn’t mean that Koki will stop drawing him.
“Call me sometimes.”
He just wants Jin to never stop asking about what he’s drawing.
Jin offers him his oily pinky.
“Never cheat on you,” he promises.
--
Wordcount: 2378
Rating: PG
Genre: Slight angst, slight fluff
Pairing: Koki/Jin
Warning: References to cross-dressing; Jincident; Jincident 2.0; and Jin’s solo song, Pinky.
Notes: For
becquinho, though this is inadequate as hell. Ilu ♥Beta-ed by
pinkeuphoria1; all other mistakes are mine. Summary: Koki draws Jin.
--
“Koki, Koki,” Jin sings, “What are you drawing?”
Koki flips his drawing board. “It’s Florence-sama,” he sings along, beaming a smile at him.
Jin snatches the drawing board and waves it in front of Koki. “Look at this! She has blond, curly hair and she is wearing a pink uniform, are you sure you’re not drawing me?”
Jin is a little taller than he is, so Koki jumps a little to retrieve his drawing. “Don’t insult my art.” He blows the dusts away from the surface of his drawing. Jin clings to his side, nudging him earnestly.
“It’s me, right?”
Koki stares at the Florence Nightingale he has been drawing and silently agrees. Jin shouldn’t have dressed as a nurse in the skit they did the other day; Koki thinks it has been altering his subconscious perception of his imageries of Florence-sama.
Jin makes himself comfortable and settles his head on Koki’s lap. “What are you doing?” Koki asks.
“I think I should at least stay here while you draw me.”
Koki continues drawing Florence Nightingale sloppily, trying hard to dissociate the pre-formed image of the legendary nurse from the uniform-clad Jin.
He takes the ugly drawing as the universe’s way of telling him that he needs to say something about the particularly stimulating image of boys in female’s clothes. Therefore, he starts mentally composing rap lyrics with multiple references to Jin in nurse uniform. Lyrics that he will never write down anywhere.
“You’re so talented in drawing,” Jin praises. Clearly, he needs to start acquiring better taste in art, Koki thinks.
--
“Hayato’s really hot,” Koki says, ruffling Jin’s thick, soft and perfectly groomed hair.
Nakamaru’s making disgusted noises. “Koki, stop saying things that make us want to throw something at you.”
“But it’s true!” Koki shouts back at Nakamaru.
“Sexy body, right, Koki?” Taguchi grins mischievously.
“Stop teasing Koki,” Jin snaps at everyone. Then, he turns to Koki and cheekily asks, “But I am really hot, right?”
He is.
--
Jin goes to find Koki at his place when he has just shaved his head for a yakuza role.
“So cool,” Jin murmurs as he rubs Koki’s head with his palm. “I want to get a yakuza role too, but all I have been getting are delinquent and perverted salaryman roles.”
“Liking an older woman is not being perverted,” Koki whacks Jin’s head, earning him a girlish-sounding cry of pain from Jin.
Koki reverts to Jin and rubs his back, repeating “sorry, sorry” over and over again. He has never been good at hurting anyone without having to apologise incessantly after. Especially not Jin.
“It hurts when you do that,” Jin whines. Koki knows Jin doesn’t mean it and that he just likes to whine. “Especially when your head looks like a microphone now.”
Koki whacks Jin again. “My head has nothing to do with it!”
He doesn’t rub Jin back and he doesn’t apologise this time. They laugh and raid Koki’s Eminem CD collection. Jin thinks that Koki should rap The Real Slim Shady in their next concert. Koki declines. If Jin wants Koki to perform Eminem then maybe Jin should perform a Korn song, he insists.
Jin pretends to puke. He doesn’t like Korn, though he likes Here to Stay[1].
The TV shows a preview for the next episode of Nobuta wo Produce. Apparently, Kame’s character is going to experience massive distrust from his classmates.
Koki sees Jin clenches his fist, teeth biting lower lips and eyes glaring at the screen. Koki pulls him close to him and lays his microphone-like head on his arm. He takes the drawing board, which has been conveniently placed above his CD shelf, and doodles himself in his yakuza look and Jin in his Hayato fashion.
“I think Hayato would get along with my character,” Koki tells him.
He leaves out the tiny detail of how he’s going to be playing a character named Kazuya[2].
![[2]](http://i.dramacrazy.net/20117eb5.jpg){kind=link}
--
“Do I look good in this?” Koki asks, randomly putting on a wig they just found on the abandoned room next to their dressing room that’s mainly used to contain unwanted and unusable materials from past concerts.
Jin grabs a worn-out hat and puts it on Koki. “When I don’t have to see your face, yes. You look weird in girly wigs.”
Koki fastens the wig and the hat in front of a dusty glass cabinet.
“Ohhhhh,” Jin exclaims excitedly. “Not bad, now that I’m looking at you from the side.”
Koki pouts at the mirror. “I’d do me,” he proudly declares. He sashays to Jin, much to Jin’s surprise, and delicately pulls his shirt, slowly lowering himself down to a very compromising position.
“Would you?” he asks Jin.
Jin only gulps. Koki drops that question and never asks again.
--
They find out about their debut a few months later.
Koki and Jin often make up songs with the title the old man Johnny suggested, usually accompanied by ridiculous yodeling and raps with horrible puns.
Koki remarks that one of the songs they have composed on a whim sounds like Korn’s Make Believe[3].
He’s lying through his teeth, of course, because if he were to be honest it actually sounds like Morning Musume’s Sexy Boy[4].
Jin likes neither comparisons and sulks like a little boy until Koki agrees to dress as a woman in a hat for his little extra something for their fans during his solo performance.
--
Koki is waiting for their plane to New York with Kame, Nakamaru, Ueda, Taguchi and their manager. Johnny-san will be heading there in his private plane in less than a day; they have been informed that he has an urgent business to attend to.
He can’t stop thinking about the drawing board he has left untouched since the day Jin had left for Los Angeles sometime last year, sitting on top of his CD shelf, gradually collecting dust.
--
“Koki, Koki,” Jin calls. His voice is deep and firm, no longer containing the playful, sing-song tone of his boyish years.
“Yea?” Koki answers, not lifting his head up from his doodles. He hardly pays attention to his surrounding when he’s drawing or writing his rap and he thinks that Jin should consider himself to be lucky enough to have gotten a reaction of any sort of him.
“Here,” Jin says, shoving a few CDs on top of Koki’s board. “I don’t know if you’ll like them, but I saw them as I went around shopping in the music stores. I thought they are quite your taste.”
Koki shifts through the stack. There’s an old Rage Against The Machine CD he already has and there are some he has never heard of.
He looks at Jin. “What are these?”
“Souvenirs.”
Jin is asking for forgiveness for leaving to Los Angeles. He doesn’t say it, doesn’t need to say it, because he’s a terrible liar, even more terrible at explaining himself and Koki doesn’t even need to think to know what Jin’s real intentions are anyway.
“Thank you,” Koki says.
By that, he really means “I forgive you”.
That’s probably why Jin never apologises to his face anymore.
--
They go to Jin’s house for takeout dinner after the karaoke session which will always be remembered as the time when they had sang the worst rendition of Garasu no Shounen ever.
Koki goes straight to raid Jin’s CD collection.
“Timbaland. D12. Justin Timberlake. Black Eyed Peas. Lil’ Wayne. Chris Brown.” Koki lists.
“What’s wrong? I thought you liked them,” Jin asks. He just got out of shower, water dripping from his hair to his shoulder. His body is pretty captivating; from the visible muscles to the solid back, it shows his natural sensuality best. Koki realises that Jin of now could not be put in a woman’s clothing and incite the reaction like he had in the past.
“Yes, I do,” Koki plays Justin’s CD, skips all the way to LoveStoned and starts dancing. At first it’s just random grooving like he usually does in clubs, then he starts to pop his chest and lock his wrists according to the music.
“Cool,” Jin says. He’s also grooving along, and Koki knows that he would have joined along if he wasn’t just wearing a piece of towel. He slides to Jin and drags him by the towel. Jin laughs.
“Hold on, you idiot,” he pushes Koki aside. “I’ll get my clothes and I’m so beating you with my signature sleazy moves.”
They dance a lot that night until they are both lying on Jin’s carpet. They have to stop anyway, Jin’s neighbour has just texted him asking him to turn down the music. Koki decides that it’s time for him to go home and rises slightly from the carpet, but Jin stops him.
“Koki,” Jin calls.
There’s no drawing or rap lyrics to keep him busy, so Koki turns to face Jin.
“I am considering quitting.”
Koki hopes his disappointment doesn’t show on his face. “Us?”
“Yes.”
“Is it because of us?”
“No, not you guys,” Jin replies, moving closer to Koki and cozying himself on Koki’s chest, hands on Koki’s stomach.
“Really?”
Jin’s hand grabs Koki’s shirt. “Yes,” he says. “Especially not you guys.”
Koki’s hand move to caress Jin’s face and tenderly play with his earlobe. “Not even Kame?”
Jin throws his head a little to the back so that his eyes meet Koki’s.
“Not even him.”
Koki doesn’t want to sound clingy, but he can’t help it.
“Then, please try to find a way to stay.”
--
Jin falls sick during one of their concerts in Tokyo Dome.
Koki reprimands him. “Shouldn’t have had that much alcohol yesterday, should you?”
Jin covers his eyes with his arms. “Shut up. I’m sick.”
He lies on the couch and waits for Koki to get him a bottle of isotonic water and a few cans of energy drinks. Jin sits up and turns to Koki, face weary and tired and eyes pleading.
Koki hugs him to his chest. “Stop whining, you’ll get better soon.”
“Koki’s the best,” Jin says, wrapping his arms around Koki’s waist. “Koki never judges me.”
It’s not really true, Koki thinks to himself.
--
“Koki,” Jin calls. “What are you drawing?”
After a finishing line and a dot, Koki flips the drawing board and shows Jin a pencil-drawn impression of Natsu in front of a microphone, almost as though he has the Bandage movie promotional poster traced.
Jin takes the piece of drawing and trails his 2-dimensional features. He has his long, thick hair tied up and an unshaved chin, probably looking the least attractive in this style than he has ever looked during his entire career. Koki doesn’t care; Jin still has the wistful, forlorn look permanently fixed on his face, unchanged by time and distance.
“It’s beautiful,” Jin beams. “Can I have it?”
Koki hesitates. He has never given Jin any of those he has of him. He gestures to retrieve the drawing and signs his name on it.
“To Jin,” Jin reads. “You will always be my special one.”
Koki writes the entire sentence in English and passes it to Jin, whose eyes are lighting up with glassy bliss.
It’s the only drawing Koki will ever give him.
--
“Are you still not talking to him?” Kame asks, “Or about him?”
Koki shakes his head, fingers diligently drawing up an image of him and his grown-up brother on a stage.
“If you miss him, make him call you back,” Kame says. Koki laughs. It’s so like Kame to keep a childish grudge.
After their rehearsals end and the shots for the car commercial have been reviewed, Koki heads back home to a welcoming Sakura-chan. She nibbles on his feet and Koki squats down to feed her with the meat chunks he has just bought for her.
“Sakura-chan,” he asks the canine, “do you think he still has that drawing I gave him?”
Sakura-chan barks happily, wags her tails, and jumps to latch on his shoulder. “Stop it,” Koki stops her, “you’re tickling me!”
She paws on him face and coos on his neck. Koki secures her in his arm and takes her to a corner of his room he has not touched in a few months.
The collection of sketches, drawings, and colourings he has of Jin throughout the years. A few months back, he had debated whether to burn them because he felt that only by burning them could he do to that raw, burning cut at the bottom of his heart some kind of justice. Until he realised that they could be masqueraded as his artistic portfolio.
He takes the messy pile of papers and stacks them properly.
--
They meet, accidentally, across the road from their favourite record store in Roppongi.
“Hey,” they exchange an awkward, tense greeting.
“Koki,” Jin calls. “Wanna grab a bite?”
They eat nearby, at this new American burger joint somewhere opposite Jin’s favourite Starbucks.
Jin orders a huge double cheeseburger, prompting Koki to ask, “How is it possible that you are so skinny now? You seem to be able to swallow an elephant with that appetite!”
Jin covers his mouth, suppressing his little laugh. “I still eat a lot, only this time people feed me food instead of fighting it away from me!”
Koki would have whacked him if they weren’t in a public place. “Doesn’t explain your rapid weight loss, idiot.”
He watches Jin eat as he waits for his order and they talk about everything under the sun. The people in America, the girls, the music, the stage.
“You were great,” Koki praises. “I watched your DVD.”
Jin blushes.
Koki stabs a few pieces of French fries with a fork. “Jin,” he starts softly. “Do you still have that drawing I gave you?”
“Yes,” Jin answers chirpily. “I have it framed.”
Koki smiles.
Jin might not call his name in a cheeky, sing-song tone anymore, nor are they going to dress up in female clothes to cater to each other’s whims.
But it doesn’t mean that Koki will stop drawing him.
“Call me sometimes.”
He just wants Jin to never stop asking about what he’s drawing.
Jin offers him his oily pinky.
“Never cheat on you,” he promises.
--
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