Walking through a beautiful late spring morning from the City to King's Cross didn't give Kakuzu much pleasure that Friday. He'd decided not to get the tube, because it really wasn't far, and he'd thought the walk might clear his head and improve his mood. He was beginning to regret accepting Konan's request. But at the time everything had seemed so - so - what was the word? - idyllic? rosy? different? Now, he was beginning to see things in the harsh light of day again. And he told himself he should've known better, at his time of life, after everything he'd been through - things always turned out the same.
Thinking back to that Saturday morning, he almost cringed at the memory of how he'd covered the receiver with his hand and murmured questioningly to Hidan, "You're going to Edinburgh next weekend?"
"Uh-huh," Hidan had murmured back, pushing up close to Kakuzu, speaking right against his lips. And Kakuzu had kissed him swiftly and hungrily, finding himself almost out of breath as he'd then push him away and held him at arm's length for long enough to uncover the receiver and tell Konan that, yes, he'd go to Edinburgh in her stead.
At least he'd retained enough presence of mind to negotiate a fee, he considered irritably. Before fucking Hidan's sweet arse into the floorboards again and then taking him back to bed for the rest of the morning. Kakuzu clenched his fist in frustration. He'd seen him twice since then, and neither occasion could be regarded as entirely successful. Or satisfying. He almost wished he left the whole thing alone, kept untarnished the memory of walking him to Hampstead tube in the pouring rain, of the two of them under Kakuzu's largest umbrella, the way Hidan had turned to him, slipping his arms around him under his overcoat, smiling at him with that potent mixture of sweetness and bravado before turning away. It had all been so perfect, from the moment he'd appeared in the bank on Friday to that moment of parting on Saturday, and now it was ordinary, sullied. Full, like all affairs of the heart, with disappointment, disillusionment and bitter wounded pride.
They'd met briefly for lunch on Monday, and for dinner on Wednesday. On Monday Hidan had been late, and not because of some previous engagement over-running, either. Because he'd overslept. Overslept past midday, which was pretty much unthinkable to Kakuzu, who'd had to rearrange an important meeting to be able to meet him at all, and couldn't stay. They'd had about twenty minutes together, a good ten of which were taken up with bitter recriminations on both sides and the subsequent smoothing of Hidan's ruffled feathers.
On Wednesday evening it was Kakuzu who was late, because since he was taking today off, he'd had a lot to fit in. By the time he reached the restaurant they'd agreed to meet in, Hidan was leaving. Kakuzu thought after Monday he should have been more understanding - but no.
"Why didn't you fucking call?" Hidan had said. "I've been fucking sitting here for half an hour!"
"I could say the same to you about the other day!" Kakuzu had retorted, trying not to let his irritation show.
"Oh, this is all about that, is it? Well, fuck you, Kakuzu - if this is your way of trying to fucking punish me for keeping you waiting two fucking days ago, then fucking get a life and grow up, man, seriously!"
It hadn't been. Not in the least. But Kakuzu hadn't been about to demean himself by protesting his innocence, particularly in the crowded entrance of a fashionable restaurant. Hidan seemed incapable of keeping his voice down, and people were staring. Kakuzu hated scenes, but he could tell that any hint of embarrassment would make Hidan behave worse. "Keep talking to me like that, and I will just leave, Hidan," he'd said coolly, shocking him into silence. "Now, we can either stay here or go somewhere else, but for God's sake, let's not waste any more time."
Inevitably, after that, the atmosphere of their evening had been somewhat strained, though Kakuzu supposed it was something of a triumph that they'd managed to be civil to each other at all.
And yet still Kakuzu couldn't stop thinking of him, still, he had that week-old flyer on his desk, violet eyes seeming to look at him now with confusion and resentment. He tried to make excuses in his head, for both of them, and to be fair, they had both had somewhat hectic weeks. Hidan had had numerous oddly timed fittings and photoshoots for the Comme des Garçons collection, plus his ordinary sittings for various artists all based in different parts of town. Kakuzu had had three very important deals to get through before the weekend, all complicated by idiot collectors who had no idea of the financial implications of their crass and uninformed tastes. They were both tired, they were both trying to adjust to something totally unfamiliar in their lives. Kakuzu could tell Hidan didn't like the fashion work, and Hidan was doing his best to hide it. It was obviously putting him in a foul mood. But it was all a bit of a comedown after the way they'd seemed to connect so seamlessly over the weekend.
Realising he was slowing down as he dwelt on these uncomfortable recollections, Kakuzu picked up his pace. He seemed fated to be late for everything this week...
Deidara and Sasori stood under the clock in King's Cross Station, looking at the departure boards. Deidara could feel how agitated Sasori was getting - they'd arranged to meet Kakuzu and Hidan here ten minutes ago. Deidara and Sasori had both arrived separately 15 minutes ago. Sasori had booked the tickets in advance, and he had everyone's.
He smiled a tense little smile and looked at his watch. "This is most inconsiderate," he said. "I really don't know what Konan was thinking, getting Kakuzu in at the last minute. There were bound to be complications... Kakuzu is a busy man..."
"Hmm," said Deidara noncommittally. "They'll be here in a minute, un, don't worry."
"I wonder if they're coming together!" Sasori exclaimed petulantly, but with a glimmer of interest in his eyes. Sasori loved gossip, and he'd heard some intriguing rumours this week - teaching in several different art schools meant a lot of sources of information... "That way, there might be some chance at least of Hidan making the train!"
"They're not, un," said Deidara. He didn't bring it to Sasori's attention that their train's status had just changed from 'On Time' to 'Platform 8' on the overhead display - that was really going to put the fat in the fire. "Isn't that Kakuzu over there?"
It was. Kakuzu made his way unhurriedly through the crowds and Sasori hissed with indignation at his composure, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet. "You're late," he snapped as Kakuzu reached them. "Where's Hidan??"
Kakuzu raised his eyebrows in a maddeningly unruffled expression of surprise. "I've no idea!" he said, shaking his head minutely, enjoying denying Sasori the satisfaction of being able to confirm his suspicions. "Somewhere between here and Tower Bridge, I imagine." He glanced up at the departure board. "Oh, look! Platform 8," he said. Deidara closed his eyes. "Will Hidan be enterprising enough to find us there, do you think, if we go over?"
"Does he even know what train we're getting?" asked Sasori irritably. "Oh God! we've got three minutes til it leaves - he'll just have to make his own way!"
They all glanced around. There was no sign of Hidan. "Give me his ticket," Kakuzu said, resignedly, holding out his hand. "You two go on..."
"No, come with us, Kakuzu, un," said Deidara. "Hidan's probably forgotten where we were meeting - maybe he's at the platform already, un."
This seemed to make sense, so the three of them went over to the ticket barrier of Platforms 8 and 9, but Hidan wasn't there. They were all looking around with the self-consciousness peculiar to people waiting for something, when Kakuzu's phone rang.
"It's him," he said, checking the screen. There seemed to be no way to stop Sasori getting his gossip-fix after all... oh well. "Where are you, Hidan," he said, flicking the phone open.
"Gray's Inn Road," said Hidan, only just audible over the rushing sound of traffic and what Kakuzu took to be several car horns and a siren. Please tell me the North end, Kakuzu urged silently. Gray's Inn Road went all the way from here to Holborn!
"I'm just coming up to the junction." Hidan continued. "Where are you?"
Oh God, Hidan, don't go over the Thames Link junction talking on your phone... Kakuzu shut his eyes in horror. "We're at Platform 8," he said, loudly and swiftly. " Come straight here - you won't have time to tie up - you'll have to bring your bike on the train. Now get off the phone before you go over that junction!"
"Too fucking late, dude, I'm in the middle," said Hidan irrepressibly. "I'll be with you in 30 seconds, Ka-kuzu, man!"
Kakuzu snapped his phone shut and closed his eyes in despair. "I'm going to kill that kid," he muttered through gritted teeth. He felt he could hardly bear to look over to the station entrance, in case he looked and looked and Hidan didn't appear, but he couldn't allow himself to behave so ridiculously. He got a grip on himself, schooling his features into their normal expression of slightly forbidding indifference. And there Hidan was - scooting through the crowds, scattering people left and right. Kakuzu supposed he wasn't technically riding - he had his right foot on the left pedal - he wasn't actually astride the bike... Twenty yards from the ticket barriers he hopped off and wheeled his bike along with his hand on its saddle, looking the picture of cycling innocence. Sasori whipped out the tickets and flourished them aggressively at a station official, and they were through onto the platform with one minute to go.
Hidan - illegally but unstoppably - mounted up again and shot down the platform looking for the bike carriage. Deidara and Sasori dived into the first door they came to. Kakuzu followed at a more relaxed pace and stood leaning out of the doorway, watching Hidan lift his bike into the train six carriages down, then hop out again, then back in at the next door. Wondering if cyclists often got left behind - their bikes inexorably borne away from them at the mercy of National Rail - he wandered into the carriage where Sasori and Deidara were establishing themselves on one side of a table. He laid his coat and briefcase over the seats opposite them. "He made it," he said expressionlessly, then walked off down the train to meet Hidan coming up.
He met him halfway down the train, in between carriages. Hidan was out of breath and and obviously exhilarated from his break-neck ride, and all the reasons why he couldn't just give up on this relationship - if you could call it a relationship at this delicate stage - hit Kakuzu like a sucker punch to the stomach. It had the effect of making him appear particularly misanthropic and dour as he tried desperately to hide the fact that Hidan's mixture of touchy ungovernability and sweet selfishness was completely irresistible to him. He gripped Hidan's forearm painfully hard, relishing the hurt expression in his eyes almost as much as the opportunity to touch him. "Can't you have a little more consideration for the people waiting for you?" he said, his voice as hard as his grip. "And for me, imagining you going under a bus on that junction?"
Hidan snatched his arm away, his expression quickly shifting from wounded puppy dog to mulish stubbornness. "Fuck you, Kakuzu," he said. "You don't fucking own me." He felt like Kakuzu had slapped him in the face - he'd been so sure that when he saw him he'd feel better. He almost wished he had gone under a bus.
"Like I'd want ownership of such a liability," Kakuzu replied, turning away. "Just try not to embarrass me - people seem to think I have some kind of influence over you." He hardened his expression, his mouth setting in a firm line. Damn it, he really hadn't come here meaning to be cruel, but he was stung by Hidan's words, and uncomfortably conscious of the fact that he did rather want to own him - the words came out colder than he'd intended. He pressed the button to open the carriage door and moved away, knowing that if he said anything else now it would only make the situation worse.
"Kakuzu!" he heard Hidan call after him. "Oi, Kakuzu, wait!" but Kakuzu found he really couldn't face the thought of another argument and he pretended not to hear, continuing through the articulated vestibule area into the carriage. He heard Hidan follow, but didn't turn around to see the expression on his face - a mixture of tired blankness and misery that would've told him instantly that it wasn't a fight Hidan wanted.
"Forget it," he heard himself say wearily. "It doesn't matter now."
What fucking doesn't matter? thought Hidan wretchedly, motionless for a moment, not quite knowing what to do. How you just fucking walked all over my feelings? Or what I wanted to fucking say to you? Which I've fucking forgotten now, you cold fucking bastard! He followed Kakuzu down the carriage, and ignored the conciliatory little smile he gave him as he stood aside to let Hidan get into the window seat. He sat down without a word, then kicked Deidara's ankle under the table, really just to vent his mood a little bit.
"Oi, fuckwit, how was Berlin?" he asked.
Deidara kicked back, but Hidan was ready and managed to avoid taking it on the shin, like Deidara had obviously intended from the vicious look in his blue eyes. "Got to be fucking quicker than that, dude," he teased, telling himself he felt a little better as he swallowed the sick, desolate feeling that arguing with Kakuzu always seemed to evoke in him.
Deidara was obviously in a forgiving mood, because he started to tell Hidan all about his trip, and didn't even try to kick him again. Hidan found he couldn't concentrate, though. He was restless and antsy - he couldn't get comfortable in his seat and he couldn't block out the rumble of the train - the noise was even beginning to give him a headache, or maybe it was just exacerbating one that had already been forming. He went from being too hot - from his exertion of his cycle ride - to being shivery and cold. He'd put his jacket up in the luggage rack, though, and he didn't want to ask Kakuzu to stand up so that he could get it, because that would involve speaking to Kakuzu, which he wasn't currently prepared to do.
"Mate, are you listening, un?" he heard Deidara say, and he gave himself a mental shake, running a hand over his face and rubbing his eyes.
"Ah, fuck, no, sorry man, I was zoning out there," he said. "What was that you just said?"
He felt Kakuzu look at him curiously, but refused to turn and meet his gaze. "I said, un, that they fucking put my new charcoal pieces in fucking bullet-proof glass cases," said Deidara. "What do you think of that, un? I was fucking pissed."
Hidan felt miserable, because he'd seen that Kakuzu had one of Deidara's pieces in a controlled-environment tank in his house, and Hidan would've liked to've made eye contact with him, and smirked knowingly - maybe even brought it up and teased him about it - but his wounded pride didn't allow it. "It's a fucking shame," he contented himself with saying, hoping Kakuzu would interpret his words as tacit criticism of himself. "The fuckers don't care about meaning, it's all about fucking money to them."
"Right on, un," said Deidara excitably. "That's exactly what it's about, un!" He was on his hobby horse now, and Hidan knew he could go on for hours, not noticing that Hidan wasn't paying any attention at all. He let himself drift back into his self-pitying reverie.
"Are you cold, Hidan?" he heard Kakuzu murmur to him. "You're shivering."
"I'm fine," Hidan said automatically. He was torn between wanting to use this entry Kakuzu was giving him to get back on good terms again, and wanting to punish Kakuzu by spurning all his friendly overtures.
"You want me to pass your jacket down?"
Wow. This was persistent for Kakuzu. "I'm fine," Hidan insisted, aiming for a cold tone, but ending up sounding sulky and petulant instead.
Kakuzu gave up and got out his book. It was Nabokov's 'Lolita'. If Hidan wanted to stew in his own juice all the way to Edinburgh, well, let him. He opened it unhesitatingly to the page he'd been on - no bookmarks for Kakuzu - and began to read. He immediately regretted his choice - it kept inappropriately reminding him of his own situation, and really, this wasn't a protagonist he wanted to identify with at all - but he forced himself to concentrate and read on, as if totally unaware of the vehicle of inner turmoil that was Hidan simmering beside him.
How could Kakuzu do that, Hidan wondered. Had he compartmentalised his brain to such a degree that he could just shut off from things that disturbed him, his mood remaining entirely unaffected by them? Hidan certainly couldn't do it, and he thought it was kind of despicable anyway. You'd end up not being able to feel things, if you did that too much. He fingered his Jashin rosary through his John Rocha shirt and looked out of the window. He hated the landscape around here. So fucking flat and industrial. Ugly.
He began to warm up again as sunlight filtered through the carriage windows, but his mood didn't improve. By the time they reached Peterborough he felt anxiety bordering on panic, the pressure in his head felt unendurable, he began to imagine he could hear his own heartbeat. He started to feel desperate, he needed some kind of relief, or at least distraction. But Deidara was asleep now, and Sasori was reading some book about fucking phenomenology or shit like that. Kakuzu hadn't so much as glanced at him for about half and hour. He decided he'd try listening to some music for a while, though there wasn't anything he really felt like. But peering under the table to delve into his rucksack as the train pulled away from the station, he noticed that Sasori's bag was open - and resting neatly on top was a little tin that Hidan knew well from modelling sessions in Sasori's studio. Immediately, he began to feel calmer. He smiled. Discreetly lifting it out, he murmured a soft "Excuse me," to Kakuzu, and made his way down the aisle to the toilet.