Disclaimer: It is now disclaimed.
Warnings: More spoilers about Jin (his home life, in any case)
A/N: In which my random returns in full-force, and I do nothing to stop it. I am now incredibly amused of what I just wrote (and I don't think it's funny at all). I'm either losing it, or reaching some form of greatness I didn't know I possessed.
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Locked in a Cage
21
(Best Kept Secret)
If he was to be honest with himself, Michiru knew next to nothing about Jin.
The only other fact was; Jin knew just as much about Michiru.
In a way, they were a lot more similar than what they could have ever thought – in their lives, their insecurities, what they saw outside of the flowers and sparkles of a particular pair, and the cousin who was with them every step of the way…
The fact remained that they knew what they had to give would never be taken by the people they had been aiming for. No, life wasn't a fantasy – with 'happily ever afters' and no one being hurt.
Everyone was hurt; whether it was their friends or the opposing side, they could see that people were becoming victims of their battles. They would never say it out loud, though; they already knew it all too well.
Michiru remembered the first time Jin had spilled something he really shouldn't have, and how the idol's face had warped between something indescribable (as the words escaped), shock (at himself) and horror (as he finally realised what he had just said). Not that the auburn-haired teen could blame him (the face had then opted for pure indignation, as Michiru had found himself having to lean against the door-post for support as he laughed).
"Who would have thought that the teen heartthrob Kuga Jin-kun lived in a shack," he finally managed to choke out, between gasps, as the idol continued to glare at him from the opposite end of the room.
"You're supposed to have pretended not to hear that."
Although he promised not to tell the others, Michiru and Jin both realised that, after that one moment, they began to trust each other a little more – especially with the oncoming onslaught by one Sakurai Yuuki.
(Jin still kicked himself for the slip, though, Michiru was sure; what else could the idol have been doing in the spare guestroom of his apartment? The lamentations and attempts of poetry, behind closed doors, was enough to inform him.)