defeminized (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
defeminized) wrote2011-10-03 08:05 am
defeminized) wrote2011-10-03 08:05 am
Entry tags:
Caecus - Kame/Nakamaru
Title: Caecus
Wordcount: 1619
Rating: PG for extremely safe
Genre: Fluff
Pairing: Kame/Nakamaru; slightly Kame/Jin-ish
Warning: Abuse of medical condition and assumption that Kame possesses perfect vision.
Note: Caecus is the Latin word for ‘blind’. Or so Google told me.
For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cease11. Hey little girl, gambare? This has no porn, so I guess it more than compensates? Thanks to pinkeuphoria1, whom without I am useless.
ETA: There's a wonderful podfic of this, here. THANK YOU SO MUCH,randomicicle.
Summary: Kame goes blind every mid-September.
--
Kame goes blind every mid-September.
The date varies. The degree of blindness, too, varies as well.
When it first happened, Kame’s world was surrounded with a cloud of creepy darkness. He was almost convinced that something in him had gone wrong until he realised that it was a good excuse to take a medical leave. It was the day after he had decided to quit baseball and somehow the whole thing seemed planned.
It was like he was meant to shut his eyes from the world.
It was however, temporary. He woke up the next day and the world was as clear as sunshine.
Sometimes it was only his vision blurring, sometimes it was colour-blindness; but he has now gotten used to the idea of planning a retreat everytime mid-September looms near.
He always tells people that it’s because he needs a break.
Temporary and seasonal temporary vision impairment makes no sense to anyone, even to himself.
--
“Why don’t you get yourself checked, just in case it has something to do with hormones?” Jin asks, obviously oblivious at how hormones actually work.
Kame thinks.
“Maybe because it’s more lyrical like that,” he answers, “like the snow falling in December, flowers blossoming when February comes, or something like that.”
“I don’t understand you,” Jin says.
Maybe it’s not meant to be fully understood, the temporary vision impairment syndrome or something like that. It probably doesn’t even have a medical term.
It helps that Kame has always been a sucker for deep, lyrical, meaningful things. At least when he thinks they are.
--
The only other person who knows about it, other than Jin, is Nakamaru.
The only other person in Kame’s life who has bigger OCD tendencies than Kame himself also happens to be Nakamaru.
He takes out his notepad and starts scribbling ‘The Curious Case of Kame’s Occasional Blindness’.
“Kame, tell me-“
“It’s not always blindness.”
“-all about the time when you first experienced it.”
Kame tilts his head slightly, deep in thought. “I told you, the day after I told manager-san that I would quit baseball altogether.”
“You were…”
“More or less 16. Some few months after KAT-TUN was formed.”
“I remember that.”
Nakamaru jots something down, then looks up to Kame like he just remembered something.
“What do you mean when you said ‘it’s not always blindness’?”
“Well,” Kame muses, “sometimes I get nearsightedness, sometimes astigmatism, sometimes night-blindness, sometimes full-out blindness. It depends.”
“On?”
“No idea.”
Nakamaru twirls his pen.
“Yours is one hard case to crack.”
Kame laughs.
“I’m counting on you, sensei.”
--
Jin cooks. It’s always disastrous, but Kame eats it anyway.
“So what happens if you take a few days off and your eyes can see perfectly?”
It’s pasta with sour cream plus spiced pickled radishes. It sucks.
Kame swallows painfully; he thinks that his tolerance for Jin’s off-the-scale taste when it comes to what defines gastronomical pleasure is being stretched thinner with each bite.
“It never happens. I’m always experiencing some sort of visual impairment.”
“Without fail?”
“Each and every year.”
Jin spoons himself a good portion of his pasta. “Weird.”
“Yeah.”
“I told Nakamaru.”
“I know. He asked.”
“He mentioned me?” Jin asks, eyes widen and cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
“No,” Kame answers, drowning the strange taste in his mouth with orange juice, which was, thankfully, prepared by himself.
“How did you know it was me?”
“You never keep your mouth shut with him.”
“Right.”
Kame places both his spoon and fork on the plate. “Thanks for the meal.”
“Want some more?”
“No, thanks.”
--
Nakamaru tells him that he doesn’t have to recall everything in chronological order, just as long as he remembers them and tells him about it.
They make a rather messy record of Kame’s strange visual impairment history.
For the September on the year they debuted, Kame experienced night blindness. He had requested for a few days break from filming Tatta Hitotsu no Koi but decided that one night was enough. Plus, Koki was there.
September 2003; Kame was eighteen and got rejected by this cute (older) girl he had met when he was shopping for a tie. She was a college student majoring in something scientific (Kame seemed to sway towards Marine Science and distracted Nakamaru for a whole duration of ten minutes) and was in love with another (older) guy. He went completely blind that year for one day.
September 2009; it was mild near-sightedness. He ordered a pair of contact lenses to help him cope with the stage works for Dream Boys.
September 2005; he was slated to debut in a few weeks. Alone. He was colour-blind for two days.
September 2008; Jin had a girlfriend (for two months). It was astigmatism.
Nakamaru rubs his chin.
“How is it, genius-kun,” Kame asks. “Found anything yet?”
“The only common thing in all these events is the fact that they all happened in September. I think you have Septophobia.”
Kame knocks Nakamaru’s head with the latest Panasonic Lambdash pamphlet and laughs heartily.
“And the symptoms being sight problems induced by Septophobic hormones?”
“Yes, and I have a reason to believe that you have a retinal condition that is making you rather sensitive to the seasonal changes from summer to autumn.”
They spend the entire evening making up increasingly bizarre causes for Kame’s abnormal eye conditions until Jin calls.
They both agree to decline his invitation to have dinner in his apartment.
“He cooked me baked risotto with lemongrass and kimchi. I swear that guy has a thing for exotic food,” Nakamaru complains.
Kame asks him to get dressed; they are heading to his favourite Korean restaurant and meeting Jin there.
“No kimchi,” Nakamaru warns. “At least for today.”
--
September comes and Nakamaru tells Kame that he has applied for a few days off.
“Why?”
“Just in case you go blind.”
Kame’s really touched. He hopes that he’s not looking at Nakamaru with puppy eyes.
“I won’t be blind.”
“Confidence level?”
“95%,” Kame says, quoting some statistical formula that Nakamaru frequently uses.
“There’s the other 5%,” Nakamaru rebuts. “We are going up north. Will Hokkaido be alright?”
“Sure.”
--
Nakamaru brings along canes, contact lenses with varying powers, beeper, masking tapes (“To cover the edges of the furnitures,” he explained to a dumbfounded Kame), 3D glasses (“Who knows what other forms of sight problems you’ll get next”, he reasoned, “maybe you’ll start seeing things in 2D”), a pair of goggles, blindfolds (“Just in case you get allergic to light,” he said), earphones, walkie-talkie, and a million other presumably useless stuff for this little trip of theirs.
--
To his surprise, his vision is almost as normal as the rest of the year, only that everything around him seems to have lost some shade of their colour.
“In other words, everything is pale,” Nakamaru concludes.
Kame nods.
--
Nakamaru buys a bottle of artistic paint and paints his goggles with a slight gray hue.
“I wanna know how it feels like.”
--
The paleness goes on for three days, the longest Kame has experienced when it comes to his alleged ‘Septophobia’.
Nakamaru looks cute in his pale gray goggles.
“Your world is incredibly boring.”
Kame doesn’t tell him that his eyes are slowly seeing clear colours again, though they are still relatively pale as compared to normal.
--
They go sight-seeing on the fourth day. Hokkaido has really pretty places.
Nakamaru’s wearing his gray goggles. He wears them all the time, even when they go to Tomita Farm, the place with the flowers and lavenders and delicious ice-creams, where it’s insane to not want to see everything with absolute clarity and take pictures to commemorate the visit.
They reach the middle of a lush field. Nakamaru takes his goggles off and pulls out a piece of solid black blindfold.
“What?” Kame asks, wondering aloud if Nakamaru has really gone mad.
“I wanna know how it is like,” he answers.
“How what is like?”
“To be blind.”
Kame ties a tight knot behind Nakamaru’s head. “There you go.”
The newly-blinded Nakamaru is amusing. “I can see nothing!” he exclaims.
“Haha, of course.”
“Everything is black.”
“Tell me something new,” Kame says, laughing.
“But,” he announces, “I can smell.”
Kame is puzzled. “And that means?”
“What did you do when you were blind?”
“I hid in my room,” Kame answers truthfully. It was really the only thing he did. After all, it always happened that he was blind at the most emotionally convenient times.
“You’re missing out,” Nakamaru says. He is really adorable, the way he swings his head aimlessly around, trying to fight the instinct to take the blindfold off.
“You see,” he starts. “I can smell the lavenders-“
“Duh.”
“-and their broken stems-“
“Because we stepped on some.”
“-and the grass-“
“That’s easy. That’s what we are stepping on.”
“Kame?”
“Yeah?”
“You smell nice.”
Kame stops everything he’s doing. He turns to look at Nakamaru and he suddenly sees his condition in a new light.
“And you’re walking nearer-“
Kame gets closer so that they are face-to-face.
“-and now you’re right in front of me.”
He trails his finger along the side of Nakamaru’s face.
“Kame?”
He brings his head slightly upwards so that their lips are touching. It’s a kiss as light as a feather.
“Yucchi, whatever I do, don’t open your eyes.”
Nakamaru nods.
Kame pushes himself closer to Nakamaru’s body and interlock his fingers behind his back and he kisses him deeper.
Everything around him slowly turns into a sea of bright colours, like the hues on a piece of classic Persian carpet, ready to take him everywhere.
--
Next September comes and Kame is no longer visually impaired in any way.
--
Wordcount: 1619
Rating: PG for extremely safe
Genre: Fluff
Pairing: Kame/Nakamaru; slightly Kame/Jin-ish
Warning: Abuse of medical condition and assumption that Kame possesses perfect vision.
Note: Caecus is the Latin word for ‘blind’. Or so Google told me.
For
cease11. Hey little girl, gambare? This has no porn, so I guess it more than compensates? Thanks to pinkeuphoria1, whom without I am useless. ETA: There's a wonderful podfic of this, here. THANK YOU SO MUCH,
randomicicle. Summary: Kame goes blind every mid-September.
--
Kame goes blind every mid-September.
The date varies. The degree of blindness, too, varies as well.
When it first happened, Kame’s world was surrounded with a cloud of creepy darkness. He was almost convinced that something in him had gone wrong until he realised that it was a good excuse to take a medical leave. It was the day after he had decided to quit baseball and somehow the whole thing seemed planned.
It was like he was meant to shut his eyes from the world.
It was however, temporary. He woke up the next day and the world was as clear as sunshine.
Sometimes it was only his vision blurring, sometimes it was colour-blindness; but he has now gotten used to the idea of planning a retreat everytime mid-September looms near.
He always tells people that it’s because he needs a break.
Temporary and seasonal temporary vision impairment makes no sense to anyone, even to himself.
--
“Why don’t you get yourself checked, just in case it has something to do with hormones?” Jin asks, obviously oblivious at how hormones actually work.
Kame thinks.
“Maybe because it’s more lyrical like that,” he answers, “like the snow falling in December, flowers blossoming when February comes, or something like that.”
“I don’t understand you,” Jin says.
Maybe it’s not meant to be fully understood, the temporary vision impairment syndrome or something like that. It probably doesn’t even have a medical term.
It helps that Kame has always been a sucker for deep, lyrical, meaningful things. At least when he thinks they are.
--
The only other person who knows about it, other than Jin, is Nakamaru.
The only other person in Kame’s life who has bigger OCD tendencies than Kame himself also happens to be Nakamaru.
He takes out his notepad and starts scribbling ‘The Curious Case of Kame’s Occasional Blindness’.
“Kame, tell me-“
“It’s not always blindness.”
“-all about the time when you first experienced it.”
Kame tilts his head slightly, deep in thought. “I told you, the day after I told manager-san that I would quit baseball altogether.”
“You were…”
“More or less 16. Some few months after KAT-TUN was formed.”
“I remember that.”
Nakamaru jots something down, then looks up to Kame like he just remembered something.
“What do you mean when you said ‘it’s not always blindness’?”
“Well,” Kame muses, “sometimes I get nearsightedness, sometimes astigmatism, sometimes night-blindness, sometimes full-out blindness. It depends.”
“On?”
“No idea.”
Nakamaru twirls his pen.
“Yours is one hard case to crack.”
Kame laughs.
“I’m counting on you, sensei.”
--
Jin cooks. It’s always disastrous, but Kame eats it anyway.
“So what happens if you take a few days off and your eyes can see perfectly?”
It’s pasta with sour cream plus spiced pickled radishes. It sucks.
Kame swallows painfully; he thinks that his tolerance for Jin’s off-the-scale taste when it comes to what defines gastronomical pleasure is being stretched thinner with each bite.
“It never happens. I’m always experiencing some sort of visual impairment.”
“Without fail?”
“Each and every year.”
Jin spoons himself a good portion of his pasta. “Weird.”
“Yeah.”
“I told Nakamaru.”
“I know. He asked.”
“He mentioned me?” Jin asks, eyes widen and cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
“No,” Kame answers, drowning the strange taste in his mouth with orange juice, which was, thankfully, prepared by himself.
“How did you know it was me?”
“You never keep your mouth shut with him.”
“Right.”
Kame places both his spoon and fork on the plate. “Thanks for the meal.”
“Want some more?”
“No, thanks.”
--
Nakamaru tells him that he doesn’t have to recall everything in chronological order, just as long as he remembers them and tells him about it.
They make a rather messy record of Kame’s strange visual impairment history.
For the September on the year they debuted, Kame experienced night blindness. He had requested for a few days break from filming Tatta Hitotsu no Koi but decided that one night was enough. Plus, Koki was there.
September 2003; Kame was eighteen and got rejected by this cute (older) girl he had met when he was shopping for a tie. She was a college student majoring in something scientific (Kame seemed to sway towards Marine Science and distracted Nakamaru for a whole duration of ten minutes) and was in love with another (older) guy. He went completely blind that year for one day.
September 2009; it was mild near-sightedness. He ordered a pair of contact lenses to help him cope with the stage works for Dream Boys.
September 2005; he was slated to debut in a few weeks. Alone. He was colour-blind for two days.
September 2008; Jin had a girlfriend (for two months). It was astigmatism.
Nakamaru rubs his chin.
“How is it, genius-kun,” Kame asks. “Found anything yet?”
“The only common thing in all these events is the fact that they all happened in September. I think you have Septophobia.”
Kame knocks Nakamaru’s head with the latest Panasonic Lambdash pamphlet and laughs heartily.
“And the symptoms being sight problems induced by Septophobic hormones?”
“Yes, and I have a reason to believe that you have a retinal condition that is making you rather sensitive to the seasonal changes from summer to autumn.”
They spend the entire evening making up increasingly bizarre causes for Kame’s abnormal eye conditions until Jin calls.
They both agree to decline his invitation to have dinner in his apartment.
“He cooked me baked risotto with lemongrass and kimchi. I swear that guy has a thing for exotic food,” Nakamaru complains.
Kame asks him to get dressed; they are heading to his favourite Korean restaurant and meeting Jin there.
“No kimchi,” Nakamaru warns. “At least for today.”
--
September comes and Nakamaru tells Kame that he has applied for a few days off.
“Why?”
“Just in case you go blind.”
Kame’s really touched. He hopes that he’s not looking at Nakamaru with puppy eyes.
“I won’t be blind.”
“Confidence level?”
“95%,” Kame says, quoting some statistical formula that Nakamaru frequently uses.
“There’s the other 5%,” Nakamaru rebuts. “We are going up north. Will Hokkaido be alright?”
“Sure.”
--
Nakamaru brings along canes, contact lenses with varying powers, beeper, masking tapes (“To cover the edges of the furnitures,” he explained to a dumbfounded Kame), 3D glasses (“Who knows what other forms of sight problems you’ll get next”, he reasoned, “maybe you’ll start seeing things in 2D”), a pair of goggles, blindfolds (“Just in case you get allergic to light,” he said), earphones, walkie-talkie, and a million other presumably useless stuff for this little trip of theirs.
--
To his surprise, his vision is almost as normal as the rest of the year, only that everything around him seems to have lost some shade of their colour.
“In other words, everything is pale,” Nakamaru concludes.
Kame nods.
--
Nakamaru buys a bottle of artistic paint and paints his goggles with a slight gray hue.
“I wanna know how it feels like.”
--
The paleness goes on for three days, the longest Kame has experienced when it comes to his alleged ‘Septophobia’.
Nakamaru looks cute in his pale gray goggles.
“Your world is incredibly boring.”
Kame doesn’t tell him that his eyes are slowly seeing clear colours again, though they are still relatively pale as compared to normal.
--
They go sight-seeing on the fourth day. Hokkaido has really pretty places.
Nakamaru’s wearing his gray goggles. He wears them all the time, even when they go to Tomita Farm, the place with the flowers and lavenders and delicious ice-creams, where it’s insane to not want to see everything with absolute clarity and take pictures to commemorate the visit.
They reach the middle of a lush field. Nakamaru takes his goggles off and pulls out a piece of solid black blindfold.
“What?” Kame asks, wondering aloud if Nakamaru has really gone mad.
“I wanna know how it is like,” he answers.
“How what is like?”
“To be blind.”
Kame ties a tight knot behind Nakamaru’s head. “There you go.”
The newly-blinded Nakamaru is amusing. “I can see nothing!” he exclaims.
“Haha, of course.”
“Everything is black.”
“Tell me something new,” Kame says, laughing.
“But,” he announces, “I can smell.”
Kame is puzzled. “And that means?”
“What did you do when you were blind?”
“I hid in my room,” Kame answers truthfully. It was really the only thing he did. After all, it always happened that he was blind at the most emotionally convenient times.
“You’re missing out,” Nakamaru says. He is really adorable, the way he swings his head aimlessly around, trying to fight the instinct to take the blindfold off.
“You see,” he starts. “I can smell the lavenders-“
“Duh.”
“-and their broken stems-“
“Because we stepped on some.”
“-and the grass-“
“That’s easy. That’s what we are stepping on.”
“Kame?”
“Yeah?”
“You smell nice.”
Kame stops everything he’s doing. He turns to look at Nakamaru and he suddenly sees his condition in a new light.
“And you’re walking nearer-“
Kame gets closer so that they are face-to-face.
“-and now you’re right in front of me.”
He trails his finger along the side of Nakamaru’s face.
“Kame?”
He brings his head slightly upwards so that their lips are touching. It’s a kiss as light as a feather.
“Yucchi, whatever I do, don’t open your eyes.”
Nakamaru nods.
Kame pushes himself closer to Nakamaru’s body and interlock his fingers behind his back and he kisses him deeper.
Everything around him slowly turns into a sea of bright colours, like the hues on a piece of classic Persian carpet, ready to take him everywhere.
--
Next September comes and Kame is no longer visually impaired in any way.
--