So he doesn’t call him, doesn’t tell him anything. He doesn’t even tell Ryo, or any of his other friends. They’d probably find out sooner or later, he figures, depending on how management decides to spin his story. He’s too eager to leave that he doesn’t think about what this will do to NewS, and is just glad all of their promotions have ended, that the single dropped before he takes off.
He’s on an early-bird flight out of the country at the beginning of May, and lands seven hours later in the bright sunshine and blue skies of Molokai. He’s rented a small cottage just close enough of a walking distance to the nearest city and right on the beach, the waves of the ocean a constant symphony in the background.
It’s the most calming place Yamapi has ever been to. He spends everyday out on the beach, swimming, surfing, just lying in the warm sand that sticks to the bottoms of his feet. He does whatever he wants, whenever he wants, and it’s complete bliss. He eats his meals outside, on the small rickety white porch, or down by the shore. He frequents the closest town a few times a week, walks down the sidewalks and window-shops. Some days he’ll spend a few hours in a quaint coffee shop with a book he’s bought from the store down the street. He experiences the luxuries he never had the chance to before, fourteen years in this industry, scheduled down to the last second.
He does miss it. The longer he’s here, the more relaxed he’s become, the more chances he’s had to think without worrying about the media or the company or even his friends. All he’s ever known is music and dance and performing and being an idol. And despite the past month and half, it’s all he’ll ever want to know. This is the life for him; it’s something he was just born to do.
But lately things have just taken a toll on him and the only thing he could think of was the need to get out. And he did it the only way he could. He doesn’t regret it.
What he does regret has nothing to do with his running away from the company and everything to do with running away from Jin. There hasn’t been a day yet when Yamapi comes across something in Hawaii that he thinks Jin would appreciate and he’s got his phone out in his hand, scrolling through contacts to get to “Bakanishi” when he realizes that they haven’t spoken in weeks. And he stares at his phone for awhile longer before he puts it away with a heavy heart.
Yamapi knows he should just suck it up and call him, tell him he’s sorry and be done with it. Part of him, however, waits for Jin’s call, any indication that Jin is still worried, is waiting, even though Jin had told him straight up that Yamapi needed to make that first step, the last time they talked. It feels like years ago, that fight, that stupidity, and Jin’s harsh but honest words. Yamapi regrets not going after him that day.
Halfway through May is when he gets the first call from someone that’s not his mother. He’s not surprised that it’s Ryo, but half wishes it was Jin instead.
“How’d you find out?” he asks Ryo.
“Your mom,” Ryo answers. “How’re you?”
Yamapi considers the question for awhile before settling on, “Better.”
“Good,” Ryo says, sounding relieved. He goes on to explain everything that’s happened since Yamapi’s left, about the other members of NewS, about the other groups, about their mutual friends. He talks for awhile and Yamapi just listens, feeling oddly soothed albeit nostalgic by the sound of Ryo’s voice, and only realizing when Ryo’s saying his goodbyes that he never said one thing about the person Yamapi wants to know the most about.
Just before Ryo hangs up he says, “J-Jin…How is he?”
Ryo is silent for a moment and then follows a sigh with, “He’s good, I think. He’s in L.A. now.”
Yamapi bites his lip and doesn’t answer, but thankfully Ryo knows him well enough to answer the unspoken questions.
“He’s not mad at you,” he says. “You should just call him. Wait, I have his L.A. number, write it down and fucking call him.”
Yamapi hastily grabs a pen and jots down the number in the margin of a newspaper. “Thanks, Ryo-chan,” he says honestly.
“Come home soon, okay?” is all Ryo says before he hangs up, before Yamapi can promise him he will.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
branchandroot
8
Date: 2010-04-07 06:29 am (UTC)He’s on an early-bird flight out of the country at the beginning of May, and lands seven hours later in the bright sunshine and blue skies of Molokai. He’s rented a small cottage just close enough of a walking distance to the nearest city and right on the beach, the waves of the ocean a constant symphony in the background.
It’s the most calming place Yamapi has ever been to. He spends everyday out on the beach, swimming, surfing, just lying in the warm sand that sticks to the bottoms of his feet. He does whatever he wants, whenever he wants, and it’s complete bliss. He eats his meals outside, on the small rickety white porch, or down by the shore. He frequents the closest town a few times a week, walks down the sidewalks and window-shops. Some days he’ll spend a few hours in a quaint coffee shop with a book he’s bought from the store down the street. He experiences the luxuries he never had the chance to before, fourteen years in this industry, scheduled down to the last second.
He does miss it. The longer he’s here, the more relaxed he’s become, the more chances he’s had to think without worrying about the media or the company or even his friends. All he’s ever known is music and dance and performing and being an idol. And despite the past month and half, it’s all he’ll ever want to know. This is the life for him; it’s something he was just born to do.
But lately things have just taken a toll on him and the only thing he could think of was the need to get out. And he did it the only way he could. He doesn’t regret it.
What he does regret has nothing to do with his running away from the company and everything to do with running away from Jin. There hasn’t been a day yet when Yamapi comes across something in Hawaii that he thinks Jin would appreciate and he’s got his phone out in his hand, scrolling through contacts to get to “Bakanishi” when he realizes that they haven’t spoken in weeks. And he stares at his phone for awhile longer before he puts it away with a heavy heart.
Yamapi knows he should just suck it up and call him, tell him he’s sorry and be done with it. Part of him, however, waits for Jin’s call, any indication that Jin is still worried, is waiting, even though Jin had told him straight up that Yamapi needed to make that first step, the last time they talked. It feels like years ago, that fight, that stupidity, and Jin’s harsh but honest words. Yamapi regrets not going after him that day.
Halfway through May is when he gets the first call from someone that’s not his mother. He’s not surprised that it’s Ryo, but half wishes it was Jin instead.
“How’d you find out?” he asks Ryo.
“Your mom,” Ryo answers. “How’re you?”
Yamapi considers the question for awhile before settling on, “Better.”
“Good,” Ryo says, sounding relieved. He goes on to explain everything that’s happened since Yamapi’s left, about the other members of NewS, about the other groups, about their mutual friends. He talks for awhile and Yamapi just listens, feeling oddly soothed albeit nostalgic by the sound of Ryo’s voice, and only realizing when Ryo’s saying his goodbyes that he never said one thing about the person Yamapi wants to know the most about.
Just before Ryo hangs up he says, “J-Jin…How is he?”
Ryo is silent for a moment and then follows a sigh with, “He’s good, I think. He’s in L.A. now.”
Yamapi bites his lip and doesn’t answer, but thankfully Ryo knows him well enough to answer the unspoken questions.
“He’s not mad at you,” he says. “You should just call him. Wait, I have his L.A. number, write it down and fucking call him.”
Yamapi hastily grabs a pen and jots down the number in the margin of a newspaper. “Thanks, Ryo-chan,” he says honestly.
“Come home soon, okay?” is all Ryo says before he hangs up, before Yamapi can promise him he will.
~