Disclaimer: Kamichama Karin chu © Koge-Donbo, Kodansha, etc

Warnings: … Implied stuff. Mention of various relationships during and at the end.

A/N: Because Jin is my second favourite male character, and he really doesn't get enough love. That aside, this has already been posted elsewhere (whether you've seen it or not) based on a prompt at a writing community – 'eggshells'. Make what you will. (Run-on sentences are evident, I know, and any spelling and grammar errors… we'll just blame humanity for it.)

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Boundaries

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Sometimes, Jin believes he's walking on eggshells. He skirts around the boundaries that are set out for him and knows that, every once in a while, he oversteps it. To be honest, though, he does not always mean to walk over the line like that, but there are many situations when he does it intentionally; for a laugh, to try and lighten the mood, although it may not need it.

He needs to pretend to himself, and there are times when he believes it. As an idol, the one that everyone loves, it's all too often that his ego is boosted and he is supposed to play the part – as someone, something, he may not truly be.

But at the same time, it's hard. To keep lying to himself, and to know that what he really, truly wants – or is that, too, a lie? – is just out of his reach, beyond his grasp. The one time when he feels like it is not a lie is untouchable, as that person is already taken from him by someone else. It seems unfair, like he is being told something, by the higher beings (or whatever it is that he now believes in) who play with his life. They toy with him; give him hopes and dreams, only to snatch them away at the last minute.

In a way, Jin is like a puppet, where they lead him to various situations; to watch him flounder helplessly as he is dragged around. They bait him, and although he knows it, he still tries to take, but they will always keep it away from him.

Karin is real and beautiful and perfect, in his eyes. She's everything that he does not see in the flock of girls that claim to love him, know him; and although she, too, is a fan of his work, she talks to him like a classmate - as a friend rather than just some cardboard cut-out. She is his beacon (or some form of guidance) in the darkness of his life – although he does not allow himself to dwell on such thoughts and, even after she finds out about his shameful situation, she still accepts him.

Even if he was no longer an idol in the eyes of many, she promises that 'Kuga Jin' alone is enough. He is enough, and that is all he needs to know. And perhaps, when he thinks about it, that is the reason.

He loves her; not because she's beautiful (and she is) but because she accepts. No matter what the person's situation, she will accept the good that is there, and does not judge them harshly (although it seemed Karasuma Kirio was an exception, according to Nishikiori). She truly was a goddess to him – a lowly individual who could only go so far – and that is why he loves her so much.

But no matter what his does – how hard he tries­ – he cannot win her heart, the same way she has won his. Jin's position and looks and actions do not convince her to leave Kujyou, and he knows he has long since lost; long before (a year, but it feels like an eternity) he was drawn to her. And Karin's love belongs to the blond; an emotion that reaches deeper within a soul – between two­ – and he can't help but be jealous.

There are times, when Jin watches the pair fight, that he wonders why. Why? What was it that drew those two so close together? Why was it that he was not enough? How come he still lost, despite everything they go through (especially the times when the two don't even talk)?

Why does Karin still go back to him, after each fight? Why didn't she leave Kujyou and come to him? Why could she never see him anymore than a friend?

What was it that Kujyou has that he does not?

He does not ask Himeka – as they are cousins and she, too, seems to see no fault in him – and, instead, poses the question to Nishikiori. It is strange, in a way, and almost awkward, when he asks the auburn-haired teen if they can talk in private. But if the embarrassment shows, the other boy does not say.

When they talk, Jin realises that Nishikiori, too, seems to love Kujyou; not in the same way as Karin, perhaps, but it is still there. His father (one Professor Kujyou Kazuto) did save his life, though, so the idol tries not to think too much about it. But, unlike what Himeka might have said, Nishikiori also notices Kujyou's negative traits; although he does defend the blond, in the fact that no one is perfect.

There is something, Jin notices, almost bright about Nishikiori, as their conversation seems to trail off into other aspects: extracurricular activities, books, music, anything and everything. The rarity of their company without the others feels strange, but not necessarily bad.

Neither talk much about their personal life – do not delve into it, as they skirt around the boundaries set out – and they seem to understand each other, without the need for words or secrets that lead to darker waters.

Nishikiori is a kind of crazy Jin does not completely understand; he talks to those who talk to him, he does not care to who he associates with, and seems to make friends with everyone.

He is over-affectionate with both Karin and Kujyou, and does not mind that they do not like it when he does. It doesn't seem to matter to him that he is an annoyance, because he always does it for the greater good, and it is a good trait, no matter how much of a bother he is to the others.

He also is the one who, apparently, brought the two together.

When Jin hears bits and pieces of their story – their journey – the previous year, it seems insanely surreal, although there are parts they keep in the dark. And he cannot understand Nishikiori's actions; why did he push them together? Why was it that he – so obviously – loved them so much, but gave up his own happiness for them?

It is clear that, while they consider him a friend, they do not return the feelings, and the idol wonders why it is that he can keep smiling like that. How can he pretend that nothing is wrong deep inside?

Why is it that he can hide it so well?

Even that brief time when Jin agrees to go out with Himeka – he was not serious at the least, but decided to go along just to annoy Kujyou – he cannot help but wonder why Nishikiori allows others to find happiness, but stops himself. What is it that restrains him, the idol wonders, when he has so many who admire him?

When he stops trying to pretend that he can see Himeka in a romantic light - ­another lie in the forever growing list that haunts him – Jin is, once again, left on his own. He is left wondering if he will ever find it; that love that touches deeper than any other - one that brings comfort and warmth and understanding.

But then, perhaps the ideal is also a lie, and no one really knows. But when he sees Karin and Kujyou, when they're not fighting – when they believe that no one can see them – and they always seem different. Brighter. Warmer in each other's company.

Jin cannot describe what he sees, but the feelings are undeniable, and he, once again, is left to wonder why it was Kujyou there, instead of him. (Once again, he is left out of their picture-perfect life.)

One day, more by a slip of tongue than an intentional gesture, he asks Nishikiori that. The other boy does not answer instantly, but seems to hum thoughtfully, as if he cannot find the right words to put out. What he says next, though, shocks Jin more than anything else.

Nishikiori asks him if it is alright for him to pine over Karin constantly: to lose any other chance with another girl, as he – the idol, the picture of confidence and love and perfection – continues to focus his attention on one girl, and her alone. The idol does not have an answer already there.

Jin, in his defense, mentions his time with Himeka, but they both know it means nothing; another lie that pretends to pass off as the truth. The truth that Jin can no longer seem to find, buried with the countless lies he has come to believe over the years.

In a way, it sickens him. He does not know what he wants to believe in, or who he really is, at times. Everything seems to be wrong, and no one is able to help, even if they were to know.

When Nishikiori inquires as to what is wrong, the idol notices. Notices, and is suddenly more afraid than anything else. He bolts, with a garbled excuse he knows makes no sense, and leaves the other confused.

He is an idol. The one who is unashamed to pronounce his love of a certain girl to the world, without a second thought. The one who is fights a certain blond for said girl's affection. The one who lies – constantly, since the day he decided to take charge of his own life – and pretends that the way his life is, is completely fine. That he's happy with how it is, and nothing more matters.

The one who thinks he may have found that one, deep, true connection elsewhere. And there are no lies to veil it, to smother it out of sight, so he can pretend it does not exist. It is there – right before him – and he cannot ignore it, but it scares him.

This truth that has not yet been touched by lies.

Time seems to pass –too slow for him, in his current situation – and he tries to push it away; he throws himself further into his work and their fight against the Chaos Seeds, pretending that nothing is wrong. He crosses the line, time and time again, as he flirts with Karin, and tries to keep it all out of his mind.

But Jin can't; no lies seem to stick, and he cannot truly believe them. And he has a feeling that they are wondering what is wrong with him; worried about him. Or, perhaps, they do not notice the change, and think nothing of it.

Yet, the next time he finds himself alone with Nishikiori, the other teen can't help but ask if something is the matter.

Truth, lies, truth, lies, truthliestruthliestruthlies…

He can no longer pretend, no longer hide, and there is no one else around to protect him. Jin wants to run, but can't; it weighs on him too much already, and he feels like he will break if he does not just act on it. And perhaps letting it go – and facing the heartbreak – will be more preferable.

What Nishikiori was expecting as an answer, Jin is sure, is far from what he believed it to be; the idol allows himself to break down the walls – the lies, the image, the person he forever seems to be – and for once acts on what he really, truly wants. One without the usual lingering doubts (he has always had them, even when he tried to advance on Karin, because despite everything, Kujyou was always there, in the picture).

Perhaps, then, he should thank fate for them being in a deserted corridor at the time, as they try to work out what to do next; caught in an awkward situation neither really knows what to make out of.

Jin half-hopes Nishikiori will just run away, but he knows the other too well to believe it. And he is proven right, when the other just smiles – it seems different, but Jin can't work out why – and asks the idol if he's sure.

There are boundaries, and it is one he – maybe, just maybe – should be too afraid to cross. But the certainty in his mind overruns the doubts, and Jin just shrugs, more wondering if Nishikiori is willing to give it a shot. The auburn-haired teen needs a chance closer to happiness, so why not?

Michiru seems to agree, still smiling that strange smile – almost unreadable; but Jin knows, he knows now, and it is not a lie – as they step out for lunch.