and though it seems strange to say, i've never been laid so low;
last part D: i'm so sorry for spamming your flists; LJ doesn't seem to want to support my inordinately large posts DD: i would have posted it on different days, but i'm a mega douche and missed the deadline and have to put it up now D:
title: The Palace of Dreams (3/3)
pairing(s)/character(s): Japan, Greece, China, Korea; Greece/Japan and slight China/Korea
rating: PG-13 yo
summary: By several strange twists of fate, Kiku Honda becomes one of the proprietors of a Kabukicho host club, with Heracles Karpusi as his number one host. As something like love develops between the two, Kiku has to face the fact that desires, dreams, and hopes are something that inevitably make up every person, including himself. [AU; written for disownmereturns for the giripanexchange winter exchange.]
☆THE PALACE OF DREAMS (3/3)
Was it a manifestation of hope? There was a quote, he remembered, about hope giving birth to love- but was that insincere? Kiku mapped it out. He had been taken, first, with the things Heracles said, the way he said them; and then he had started to think of Heracles as a person, just think of him; and then he felt him whenever they were close- that comfortable vibe, or his movements obscured by his suit- such a conservative garment, so strangely contrasting with the body beneath.
Kiku’s thoughts were fighting against each other, and his mind was in a state of chaos unlike any he’d experienced in his adult life; the things that he perceived himself to be and the things that he wanted to be, colliding. He’d see Heracles with customers and just experience a dropping feeling, a quiet dread; he found himself being curt with Heracles’s designated customers, and then with all of the customers; he barely spoke to Heracles anymore, but the worst part was that Heracles didn’t seem bothered by it, because he had seemed to notice the shift in Kiku’s conscious feelings. What did Heracles think of him? He could assume that he liked him, but...And it was all the more worse, when Yao warned him one day over breakfast to “Be careful.” He’d just said that, nothing else; and Kiku hadn’t had the courage to ask him what he meant.
So his feelings went, rising and falling with all the deep, dramatic turns of some out-of-hand Beethoven piece. The piece reached it climax when, one around closing time, Kiku had holed himself in the back room, going through his papers and feeling horrible, when Heracles came in.
Kiku’s feelings sped up, tripped over one another; Heracles was just natural about it, closing the door behind him, and then he looked at Kiku by way of greeting.
“Oh- Heracles- come in,” Kiku said, motioning over in front of the desk- perhaps to the couch, the chairs.
Heracles nodded; he fiddled with his watch, but then his posture went back to being sure as ever. He stood before the desk. Kiku didn’t look at him, instead looked at the papers he’d looked over at least three times before. “Did you- eh- need to ask me something?” he asked, making sure not to sound dismissive.
“Mm,” Heracles nodded. “I was going to ask you if I could leave a little early. Yao told me to ask you.”
Kiku was about to nod his permission, but Heracles went on. “One of my customers- Kanako- wants to go out,” he said. Kiku looked up at him, over him- everything about him was making him miserable- God. “So I’m going to go with her...she wants to take me to breakfast...I think,” Heracles went on.
“Ah. I understand,” Kiku answered, nodding with a slight smile.
“Okay. Good night- or morning, or...” Heracles was lost in thought for a moment as to what time of day it was, but then he just shrugged it off. He turned to go, the darkness of his suit a sudden imperative.
The feeling welled up in Kiku, that tearing darkness that went with so many things that were wrong and right, and he- under the impression of that feeling, or of the heady lights outside- he didn’t know what he was doing, even; he half-got up from his seat, reached forward and held onto Heracles’s wrist- stopped him as he went. The feeling fell and dropped something horrible in the pit of Kiku’s stomach, but he couldn’t stop himself, he just-
Heracles turned around and looked at Kiku, examined him- and his eyes like breathing, cool dark blue- that look on his face that was always steady, no matter what was happening, what storms were tearing.
“Please don’t,” Kiku said, completely terrified that the words weren’t coming from his mind but from the pit of his throat.
Heracles’s eyes turned a different shade; his wrist turned, and his hand was touching Kiku’s suddenly- the impact of that, cove against cove and lines of destiny touching, was much more than Kiku could process comfortably, and he blushed deep red. “Okay,” Heracles answered, and then he just stood- almost a testament to the fact that he wouldn’t go anywhere.
Everything in the room was silent. Kiku felt everything in his throat well up and- felt Heracles’s eyes on him, quiet watching like a cat, but there was something in it that was just low and gentle- God, what was he doing, could he tell anymore? Heracles’s palm burned onto his. The panic welled up, the blackness and the shadow, and he half-laughed and took his hand from Heracles’s. “What am I saying,” he said to himself, to walls, to Heracles, “I’m very sorry, pay no attention to me. I must be- delirious, or tired. You’ll have to excuse me.”
His words twisted strange on his tongue; the blush didn’t go away; his eyes flickered up to Heracles’s. The look in his burned, and Kiku broke eye contact again. The feeling was a mix of shame and desperation, that Heracles now knew him this way. Kiku was about to say something, but Heracles started to talk instead.
“I won’t,” he said, “If you don’t want me to.”
Kiku swallowed apologetic laughter and just nodded. “Of course not, it’s business,” he said.
Heracles’s expression said he didn’t believe him, and because he didn’t, he didn’t move; nothing in the line of his body moved.
“Please go,” Kiku said, like he was repeating it.
Heracles processed that that, at least, was a sincere sentiment; at this point, he knew that Kiku didn’t care where he went, just that he didn’t stay here. Now that it was broken, it would be pushing it to try and mend it so quick; but there was a change in his thinking, in his demeanor, because by the way Kiku didn’t look at him, by the way he said things that sounded half-crazy, by the way he blushed, he knew he wanted him, and that was enough for now.
Kiku on the other hand was trying to salvage steadiness from this shipwreck; that was what it was, Kiku was back to sinking. The sinking was deeper and deeper, his mind and his heart, but his nerves were soaked in some magic when Heracles touched his arm and told him he would go, then.
“I’ll walk you to the door,” Kiku said.
The way there was spun in silence; Heracles didn’t mind Kiku walking with him at all, but Kiku didn’t know why he was doing it. Maybe it had something to do with the impressions in his mind- Heracles and this woman, Kanako- all the things she would willingly finance for him, all the things he’d do for business, those could-be kisses like ashes that money burned away- fugitive complicity clawing together at a dream. He could stand it, he could take it; but why did things have to be this way?
He walked beside him, sometimes his steps would fall behind and he’d see Heracles from behind. The elevator was quiet, a silence pregnant with the all the things that their proximity implied. But nothing was done and everything just existed behind Kiku’s eyes; Heracles seemed unfazed. Kiku’s heart was pounding, but everything was cold and he just felt sick.
Heracles told him goodbye- didn’t tarry- went out the door. Kiku waited till his footsteps were out of earshot, beyond the door and away from him, to sigh. Sigh it all off. It was nothing, it meant nothing; for now, he could delay everything he was feeling, and perhaps when he was seeing clearer (outside of emotion), he would find that he didn’t really feel the way he thought he felt. It was fine. There was a wide marble silence; Kiku knew the sun was going to rise outside, but it was peculiar- the starry darkness outside the glass doors was so absolute and so still that it seemed it would stay that way for at least a couple hours more, if not indefinitely. There were lights across the street, and shining down from the lampposts; there was a garbage can, and a stray cat who sat watching the street just as Kiku was.
And Kiku’s vision was unclear, completely thrown-off, when he saw Heracles walking past the glass panes, as though he was coming back. Kiku’s heart was torn in confusion and his thoughts derailed, and then just shot off into the brightness of the lights against the dark outside. Heracles seemed about to walk in, but then noticed the stray cat. He leaned down to pat its head, as though asking it for luck, and then walked back in through the doors. He saw Kiku as though he had expecting Kiku to be still standing there; and Kiku was embarrassed when he realized that he had just been standing there, giving the impression that he was waiting.
“Ah, Heracles,” Kiku managed, trying to straighten his posture.
“I told her that I forgot my cigarettes,” Heracles answered.
“You didn’t, did you?”
“No, I didn’t,” Heracles answered, shaking his head, and then he walked closer, enveloped Kiku like a storm- his mouth on Kiku’s, and Kiku felt the release of the storm, the brightness afterwards. Kiku was absolutely still, his mind was paralyzed. Heracles’s eyes flashed open, and then closed again; he shifted- an invitation to touch, and Kiku did so albeit awkwardly, his hand on Heracles’s neck, his shoulder, with the tepid, curious cautiousness of a child.
Kiku muttered a syllable into Heracles’s lips, he wasn’t actually sure what he was trying to say, and Heracles pulled away; he remained close- he held Kiku still. “I don’t really know what you want,” he said, his words even, calm as though they had seen the ocean at its worst.
Kiku felt panic shaking in his arms again; he felt awkward- this all felt awkward, strange, extremely uncomfortably new- but he just tightened his arms around Heracles’s neck, buried his face in the smooth cloth of his shirt (unaware of the surprise that colored Heracles’s face at that moment). “I can’t,” Kiku said, sighing almost in defeat, “I’m very sorry. I’m not sure why, but- I am not sure what I want. I’m sorry for rambling.”
He felt Heracles nod; he had a feeling that things from here were going to be much worse, that the moment was decisive.
“I have to go,” Heracles said, sliding his eyes toward the door. “I just wanted to-”
“Of course,” Kiku answered, with a firm nod.
Heracles nodded back, something low in his eyes, something nice; he looked over Kiku and paused. “Oh, sorry,” he said, “I messed up your suit.” He proceeded to try and fix the lapel and tie, but Kiku just shook his head and told him it was fine, he should go.
Then he kissed him again, on the mouth, then on the cheek, and seemed to breath Kiku’s smell of charcoal smoke; he said, “I’m going to go now,” but it seemed like a promise to definitely be back, and he turned and went. Kiku watched him disappear from sight (he said something to the cat, or at least appeared to), and everything fell to equilibrium. He was in a worse situation now than before. He was still unsure. He felt a thousand times better, or a thousand times worse, or maybe just a thousand times more, than he had
before Heracles had kissed him. A thousand times more; as in, the world was more vibrant, and he felt helpless and alive.
Kiku was right in feeling that things, from then on, would get much worse. He was unable to be cautious, because he hadn’t predicted that it would turn out to this bad. It was a disaster, a torrential or seismic disaster that shook up the club and caused tumult within.
Heracles, from then on, still showed up to work, still did everything as normal. The difference was that he quietly refused to be anything more than cordial with the girls, even his designated customers (perhaps even more so with them). He refused to touch them or compliment them unecessarily or reinforce the palace of dreams that they had built with monetary brick on monetary brick. Most girls were confused and complained to Yao in privacy; others threw tantrums right at the table and demanded to know what was wrong
with him; still others would break down crying for some mysterious reason, and even then Heracles would just hand them a tissue and pat their backs, as though to say, “that’s okay, let it all out.”
His fellow hosts were extremely vexed, and those who entertained along with him were often stuck trying to make everything better. Heracles turned out to be impervious to the confused goading of Yong Soo, the infuriated demands of Yao, and the exhausted pleading of Kiku. Aside from that he went about everything- champagne calls, for example- as usual, and didn’t even give the outward impression that he believed his job was in jeopardy.
Kiku was telling him, one day after work, that he needed to do his job (not venturing to say aloud that “didn’t mind,” because that would give the impression that something was going on) (which most people guessed, so it was only for himself that he was hiding the obvious), that he was causing unecessary turmoil. Heracles just nodded, not exactly considering it, and Yao said, across the room, his tongue
whiplash coated with acid:
“I don’t understand why I’m paying you if you don’t work, aru. Why don’t you just quit?”
Heracles let enough of a moment go by, and then answered, “Why don’t you fire me?”
-That was because, even though he refused to do his job, he was still their number one, and wasn’t easily replaced. If he was fired, there would be a large gap to fill (it was needless to say that the girls whose type Heracles was were not going to find Yong Soo very attractive). They could fire him, but for now they were working on trying to convince him to change his mind about the whole thing. After all, most of the girls kept coming back just on the hopes that he would be changed the next day; some kept coming back because they found the change in personality “exciting;” still others came with no reason, perhaps because they had a fetish for split personalities, or being treated coldly.
Kiku couldn’t even convince him, because it wasn’t so much a show of devotion as the conclusion of his own sense of logic, and the fondness he had for Kiku. He didn’t want to see Kiku trying to struggle with conflicting feelings; besides, it made sense to him that if he wanted only one person, he wouldn’t act like he wanted anyone else.
What further frustrated the situation (for Kiku, at least) was that Heracles was rather...forward with his intentions. He was looking to break through both of their spheres of solemnity. The worst of it was one day, when he and Heracles were going down in the elevator together (Kiku had wanted to step outside to free himself ephemerally of the chaos; Heracles was all too happy to go along with). The silence left its uncomfortable caresses across Kiku’s mind; he looked up at Heracles tentatively. He knew that Heracles didn’t mind chaos- could drift steady in confusion, could hold his ground and not blink an eye in a storm or a deluge. Kiku cleared his throat. “Eh- Heracles,” he started to say, touching the sleeve of Heracles’s suit jacket.
Heracles turned to him- hesitant, as Kiku was- but he must have read something between the lines of Kiku’s eyes because before Kiku could process it, he was pushed against one of the walls of the elevator with sudden urgency. He cried out in surprise, but it was stifled when he felt Heracles’s hair brushing his skin; his face buried in the crook of his neck, with warmth and color. Japan pushed his hand against Heracles’s chest, but it wasn’t really to push him away; his tongue was slick, slid in an inscrutable pattern, not to garner a reaction, but simply to taste. It was completely seamless; it was perhaps that they were so similar and so comfortable with each other that this was bound to happen at one point or another.
“Heracles,” Kiku breathed, feeling the heaviness of his weight; and while he was lost in sensation when Heracles took his face in his hands and kissed him (all tongue and wet, closed eyes), in the back of his mind he was fully aware of where they were, the fact that the elevator would not be going down forever, and the fact that this was entirely inappropriate. But he couldn’t stop himself; it seemed that years of control were wasted at the first request of desire. Kiku’s hand slid along the planes of Heracles’s shoulder, felt the slope of his neck-
And then there was a ringing sound; the elevator doors slid open with a friendly, professional air. And on the other side was a girl in a chocolate brown dress, hair done up nicely with permed waves and almost professional makeup. Kiku recognized her as one of Yong Soo’s clients.
“Oh- hello,” Heracles said, nodding at her because he recognized her, and also because he seemed to have no inhibitions and no cares that anybody should know whom he was kissing in elevators.
“H-hello, Heracles,” she stammered, averting her eyes and trying to act as though she hadn’t seen anything (which in effect, made everything worse).
“I- I think you should go back up, Heracles,” Kiku said, and with a cough, “Hello, Misaki.” She nodded; he bit his lip and tried to will the red off of his face, but it didn’t fade; it seemed to become brighter. He turned back, nodded at Heracles in a very discreet, professional manner, and then went with his burning shame past the lobby and into the open air to sort out all his buzzing, distracting thoughts.
The space in his mind was blank; he wondered- why couldn’t he just do something about it? A yes, a no, a straight line. Things were never that simple, though; never that simple anywhere, in someone’s mind, in reality. How could someone give themselves over completely to something, someone, when everything could vanish upon waking?
He felt more tired than before; his suit jacket weighed on his shoulders like the descendents of smoke. He did feel he had to do something, but at the same time, he also felt like ignoring everything, waiting until it all ebbed out. He figured he would sort it out, for the sake of the others.
He was met by Yong Soo and Misaki and some other customers when he came back through the club doors, but he managed to emerge unscathed from that encounter and walked about, looking for Heracles. He found him talking with some woman whom he didn’t bother to look at. “May I speak to you in the back room?” he asked, and began to lead the way without hearing his answer.
Heracles nodded to the woman, got up with a slightly swinging movement, and caught up to Kiku. Nothing was said, or even implied to be said, until they reached the room; Yao wasn’t there, that was good. Kiku flicked the light on and silence was the official policy of the area surrounding. Heracles closed the door behind them. Kiku contemplated sitting in the chair behind the desk- but God, no, he couldn’t do that, play the professional role. That wasn’t anything he wanted to do any longer.
Instead he leaned against the wall and they stoo in their places, quite casually, on the level. Kiku was aware that there was a type of fear collecting in his chest; or maybe it wasn’t so much a fear as an apprehension. He breathed in deeply, said, “I’m not sure-” but that didn’t seem right, so he amended it with, “This is a problem.”
Heracles nodded, with a small shrug. “It could be,” he answered, and then after a pause; “How do you mean?”
“I’m sorry, I mean no offense-”
“It doesn’t matter. Be offensive if you want.”
“I couldn’t,” Kiku said, biting his lip; “This may not work, as long as we- both work here.” He paused; his eyes were illegible. “You understand.”
Heracles couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Are you firing me?”
Kiku chuckled as well, but it sounded restrained. “Perhaps.”
Heracles nodded; but then he leaned against the wall, close to Kiku, looking at him sidelong with a serious expression. “-What do you mean, though...by ‘perhaps’?”
Kiku’s face flushed pink; he managed, “That- that it depends,” kicking himself for still being vague.
“It depends if we’re- ?” Heracles asked. He seemed to know that Kiku wouldn’t respond to direct language; well, of course he knew- he seemed to understand Kiku inside and out.
Kiku closed his eyes and nodded. Heracles paused, long enough for the words to sink in,long enough for both of them to think. “Are we?”
The blush deepened. “I- I don’t- I have no idea...” He paused. He felt Heracles’s eyes on him, watching him as he spoke. “I believe- I believe I’m going to have to let you go.”
He didn’t realize that could mean more than one thing; Heracles seemed to understand what he was getting at, and he just nodded. Unfazed as ever- nothing affected him; he seemed to have no expectations. Kiku wasn’t sure of anything; the room was shady and silent even under the electric light.
“...You shouldn’t be so afraid, little one,” Heracles said, mussing Kiku’s hair; then he paused, and rescinded his statement. “Or, you should...if you want to be. I can’t control the way you think.” He paused, seeming to think on his next words. “I’m not going to tell you to do anything. You can just talk to me about it whenever...” Kiku found a smile in his words, but none crossing his mouth. Heracles was close to him; he kissed him, and Kiku pulled him closer by the tie. The silence was standard.
And after that, Kiku told him, again reverting to the vague words and tones that he was comfortable in, that he should stay for the rest of the day, but not come back into work the next. Heracles didn’t seem to take offense at Kiku’s formality, but who knew what he felt? Or who knew if he was only hiding it for Kiku’s benefit? He left the room before Kiku did.
It wasn’t final. It was just another thing he wanted, passing him by. He felt cleared, for one moment, but ended up feeling, strangely, that he’d done the wrong thing.
There was a quietness after the wreck; the feeling was distilled. The clients of course discerned the absence of a certain handsome foreigner, but it seemed all equal to them anyway, because they came for love and not for love in particular. In the scheme of things, people are very often not affected at all by such things. The hosts were a little more off-put; they wondered where Heracles was. In the days that followed, they mostly came to the conclusion that something had happened between him and Kiku; it was a very hush-hush thing, because nobody who would know said anything about it. Kiku wouldn’t have said anything anyway, and Yao, who was usually such a loudmouth, was stubbornly silent.
“I think they were involved or something,” Yoh commented, fixing his hair in one of the mirrors and then ducking back out to get into the main room.
“Oh, really? I never knew he liked guys,” Kouga said thoughtfully.
“Well, he’s Greek, you know,” Kio laughed. “I never got his number though, I should. He was pretty cool.”
It was at that moment that Yong Soo was hit with an ungenius idea explaining what had happened. “Of course!” he said, leaping up from his place and pounding his fist into his open palm, eyes lightning bright, “That’s it! He’s gone because they got married and Kiku doesn’t want him to work!” He looked at his fellow hosts who were wondering if Yong Soo was kidding or not. “Although, you know, Kiku’s a sly dog, I always thought he’d be the wife!”
“I don’t think-” Kouga started, but Yong Soo ran off. Not to the spread news, but simply to run with it.
Kiku, who had deteriorated to being a zombie in the horrible days he was having, had a breakdown when Yong Soo started to throw rice at him whenever he came into a room. “Stop harassing Kiku, aru! Or I’ll fire you!” Yao said, pushing Yong Soo away. With that, Yao looked at Kiku, rolled his eyes, and tugged him into the back room like an exasperated mother would.
Kiku, bewildered at being so suddenly displaced, sat down on the couch across from the desk and, not seeing anything else to do, held his head in his hands, propping his elbows up on his knees. Yao’s expression was one of irritation; that spell of aggravation had him caught for a moment, his eyes bright in their amber storm, but then he caught himself and turned to Kiku, laughing slightly.
“I don’t know what’s up with that guy, aru,” Yao said, still attempting to be lighthearted. It took Kiku a couple of moments to realize that Yao was referring to Yong Soo.
Kiku paused. “I’m sorry for troubling you,” he said, and Yao bristled under the glacial formality.
He sighed heavily. “Aiyah,” he said, folding his arms, “What’s wrong, now? Didn’t you solve the problem?”
“I- I suppose so,” Kiku said.
“Then what’s the matter? Do you like him, aru?”
Kiku’s eyes widened for a moment; his words tripped over each other, but he felt something fall. He was extremely uncomfortable discussing it with Yao, but he ended up saying, “Yes, I believe so.”
Yao didn’t seem surprised; or if he was surprised, it was at the fact that Kiku was being direct with him for once, was saying what he really felt. “Then,” Yao continued, leaning against one of the shelves, “Just call him, or something, aru. Just tell him so.”
“N-no! I can’t!” Kiku snapped, the color draining from his face.
Yao paused, contemplating Kiku for a moment, sitting and looking so small and lost in the gray, buzzing light of the room. “Why are you always so difficult?” Yao snapped, irritated. “W-well, what do I know, aru. Take care of your own love life, it has nothing to do with me!”
Kiku nodded; Yao tarried, unsure of what he’d just said, or what he should say to him. Kiku had the feeling that this was a conversation they’d repeated many times before, in similar rooms, although it was impossible- they’d never spoken to each other like this.
“You always make things difficult for yourself, aru,” Yao said, with another heavy sigh.
He started to ask himself- was he his own problem? What did he really want? Oh, why were these things only filled with questions, when all he wanted was to be released? Yao stood by, looking at nothing; he had to get back to work, but he was just standing there. Kiku wasn’t sure if he himself wanted anything in particular; the only thing he knew that was worth wanting for himself was Heracles, with his strong silence, his thoughful eyes, his tongue that seemed to perfectly meld into Kiku’s. He touched his mouth in the memory of the taste.
It was never easy. “Do whatever you want with yourself,” Yao had said, at length, shrugging, “It’s your life.”
After that, Kiku had taken off for the day; he told no one but Yao where he was going, or that he was going, and so slipped away without anyone’s knowledge. Now he was seeing the city as he never saw it- during most of his waking hours he was in the club, in his home. There was a magic in the darkness, and the fast beat of the city’s heart made its streets pulsate with that magic; one always heard city streets and city hearts being spoken of as polluted, dirty. It was easy to breathe on these streets, though.
You could sail on the waves that people’s dreams made on the streets. It wasn’t such a bad thing after all. Daunting, perhaps; not entirely negative. It was warm out, you didn’t need a jacket to feel comfortable. Kiku wondered if by wandering far enough one could find what they wanted. He took out his phone and sent a message- the time and the place.
He walked for a long while; the cars that passed him by blew a free breeze and peppered everything into a near-bliss with headlights blue and white. Then when it was time to meet, he walked back toward the club, turning off a ways to some obscure street where there weren’t many lights, nor people.
Kiku saw him waiting from a ways off, and his heart sped up, that same old nervous feeling that was light and panicky; he decided, though, that he would look things in the face, deal with them as they should be dealt with- pay attention and do it right. It was late enough that neon was flashing by the metal and glass. It was odd to see Heracles not wearing a suit; he was just dressed in jeans, a white t-shirt.
Shining off both their eyes, the lights of the city. Heracles offered Kiku a cigarette; he took one, and they shared the flame to light. They exchanged some pleasantries, and Kiku felt horizontal, felt almost completely comfortable. It was tacitly understood that Heracles was very willing to be patient, and Kiku was glad for it. Then turning, Kiku started toward their next destination (whatever that would be) and Heracles followed after, never telling how close.
NOTES;;
rgkher giiljeiogj this was so long. D: it turned out being so because i couldn't imagine a host club outside of Japan; that being the case, i had to explain why Heracles would be in Japan; i also felt that AU!Kiku wouldn't want to own a host club since it's not really that reputable of a profession, and from there it got way out of hand.
1] I did most of my research on host clubs from the movie The Great Happiness Space: Tales of an Osaka Love Thief (a really good documentary that I think you can find on YouTube and is definitely on Netflix instant streaming); Wikipedia; and a site called the Tokyo Reporter or something, I forget. There's still a lot I don't understand about them tho, so I apologize for any glaring inaccuracies.
2] The "water trade" or "mizu shobai" (lol accent marks what are those) is the euphemism, or at least the term, for what can be called Japan's adult entertainment business- host and hostess clubs, cabarets, etc.
3] Places mentioned are Kabukicho (Shinjuku's busiest entertainment neighborhood), Takadanobaba, the Shinjuku Golden Gai, and Okubo. I'm only vaguely aware of the way Shinjuku is organized and where things are in relation to each other, so again, apologies for glaring inaccuracies D:
4] Takenoko no Sato are those chocolates that Greece was so enamored of in the Do Your Best, Japanese Snacks! strip. Just as an aside it was a pain in the ass to actually find those XDD I was like "Take no ko no Sato?" and got no results XD
5] I'm not sure if Cosmo circulates in Japan; I am also not sure if Japan has any MTV World type channels (probably, but I dono).
6] Headcanon dictates that Greece calls Japan "little one." Why? Greek people always invariably call me "little one" for some reason XD I have no idea why, but every Greek person I've known has called me that. It's probably because I'm short XD
Thanks for reading! :D Hope you enjoyed, disownmereturns!
and again, NO ONE SAW THAT FORMATTING FAIL.
title: The Palace of Dreams (3/3)
pairing(s)/character(s): Japan, Greece, China, Korea; Greece/Japan and slight China/Korea
rating: PG-13 yo
summary: By several strange twists of fate, Kiku Honda becomes one of the proprietors of a Kabukicho host club, with Heracles Karpusi as his number one host. As something like love develops between the two, Kiku has to face the fact that desires, dreams, and hopes are something that inevitably make up every person, including himself. [AU; written for disownmereturns for the giripanexchange winter exchange.]
☆THE PALACE OF DREAMS (3/3)
Was it a manifestation of hope? There was a quote, he remembered, about hope giving birth to love- but was that insincere? Kiku mapped it out. He had been taken, first, with the things Heracles said, the way he said them; and then he had started to think of Heracles as a person, just think of him; and then he felt him whenever they were close- that comfortable vibe, or his movements obscured by his suit- such a conservative garment, so strangely contrasting with the body beneath.
Kiku’s thoughts were fighting against each other, and his mind was in a state of chaos unlike any he’d experienced in his adult life; the things that he perceived himself to be and the things that he wanted to be, colliding. He’d see Heracles with customers and just experience a dropping feeling, a quiet dread; he found himself being curt with Heracles’s designated customers, and then with all of the customers; he barely spoke to Heracles anymore, but the worst part was that Heracles didn’t seem bothered by it, because he had seemed to notice the shift in Kiku’s conscious feelings. What did Heracles think of him? He could assume that he liked him, but...And it was all the more worse, when Yao warned him one day over breakfast to “Be careful.” He’d just said that, nothing else; and Kiku hadn’t had the courage to ask him what he meant.
So his feelings went, rising and falling with all the deep, dramatic turns of some out-of-hand Beethoven piece. The piece reached it climax when, one around closing time, Kiku had holed himself in the back room, going through his papers and feeling horrible, when Heracles came in.
Kiku’s feelings sped up, tripped over one another; Heracles was just natural about it, closing the door behind him, and then he looked at Kiku by way of greeting.
“Oh- Heracles- come in,” Kiku said, motioning over in front of the desk- perhaps to the couch, the chairs.
Heracles nodded; he fiddled with his watch, but then his posture went back to being sure as ever. He stood before the desk. Kiku didn’t look at him, instead looked at the papers he’d looked over at least three times before. “Did you- eh- need to ask me something?” he asked, making sure not to sound dismissive.
“Mm,” Heracles nodded. “I was going to ask you if I could leave a little early. Yao told me to ask you.”
Kiku was about to nod his permission, but Heracles went on. “One of my customers- Kanako- wants to go out,” he said. Kiku looked up at him, over him- everything about him was making him miserable- God. “So I’m going to go with her...she wants to take me to breakfast...I think,” Heracles went on.
“Ah. I understand,” Kiku answered, nodding with a slight smile.
“Okay. Good night- or morning, or...” Heracles was lost in thought for a moment as to what time of day it was, but then he just shrugged it off. He turned to go, the darkness of his suit a sudden imperative.
The feeling welled up in Kiku, that tearing darkness that went with so many things that were wrong and right, and he- under the impression of that feeling, or of the heady lights outside- he didn’t know what he was doing, even; he half-got up from his seat, reached forward and held onto Heracles’s wrist- stopped him as he went. The feeling fell and dropped something horrible in the pit of Kiku’s stomach, but he couldn’t stop himself, he just-
Heracles turned around and looked at Kiku, examined him- and his eyes like breathing, cool dark blue- that look on his face that was always steady, no matter what was happening, what storms were tearing.
“Please don’t,” Kiku said, completely terrified that the words weren’t coming from his mind but from the pit of his throat.
Heracles’s eyes turned a different shade; his wrist turned, and his hand was touching Kiku’s suddenly- the impact of that, cove against cove and lines of destiny touching, was much more than Kiku could process comfortably, and he blushed deep red. “Okay,” Heracles answered, and then he just stood- almost a testament to the fact that he wouldn’t go anywhere.
Everything in the room was silent. Kiku felt everything in his throat well up and- felt Heracles’s eyes on him, quiet watching like a cat, but there was something in it that was just low and gentle- God, what was he doing, could he tell anymore? Heracles’s palm burned onto his. The panic welled up, the blackness and the shadow, and he half-laughed and took his hand from Heracles’s. “What am I saying,” he said to himself, to walls, to Heracles, “I’m very sorry, pay no attention to me. I must be- delirious, or tired. You’ll have to excuse me.”
His words twisted strange on his tongue; the blush didn’t go away; his eyes flickered up to Heracles’s. The look in his burned, and Kiku broke eye contact again. The feeling was a mix of shame and desperation, that Heracles now knew him this way. Kiku was about to say something, but Heracles started to talk instead.
“I won’t,” he said, “If you don’t want me to.”
Kiku swallowed apologetic laughter and just nodded. “Of course not, it’s business,” he said.
Heracles’s expression said he didn’t believe him, and because he didn’t, he didn’t move; nothing in the line of his body moved.
“Please go,” Kiku said, like he was repeating it.
Heracles processed that that, at least, was a sincere sentiment; at this point, he knew that Kiku didn’t care where he went, just that he didn’t stay here. Now that it was broken, it would be pushing it to try and mend it so quick; but there was a change in his thinking, in his demeanor, because by the way Kiku didn’t look at him, by the way he said things that sounded half-crazy, by the way he blushed, he knew he wanted him, and that was enough for now.
Kiku on the other hand was trying to salvage steadiness from this shipwreck; that was what it was, Kiku was back to sinking. The sinking was deeper and deeper, his mind and his heart, but his nerves were soaked in some magic when Heracles touched his arm and told him he would go, then.
“I’ll walk you to the door,” Kiku said.
The way there was spun in silence; Heracles didn’t mind Kiku walking with him at all, but Kiku didn’t know why he was doing it. Maybe it had something to do with the impressions in his mind- Heracles and this woman, Kanako- all the things she would willingly finance for him, all the things he’d do for business, those could-be kisses like ashes that money burned away- fugitive complicity clawing together at a dream. He could stand it, he could take it; but why did things have to be this way?
He walked beside him, sometimes his steps would fall behind and he’d see Heracles from behind. The elevator was quiet, a silence pregnant with the all the things that their proximity implied. But nothing was done and everything just existed behind Kiku’s eyes; Heracles seemed unfazed. Kiku’s heart was pounding, but everything was cold and he just felt sick.
Heracles told him goodbye- didn’t tarry- went out the door. Kiku waited till his footsteps were out of earshot, beyond the door and away from him, to sigh. Sigh it all off. It was nothing, it meant nothing; for now, he could delay everything he was feeling, and perhaps when he was seeing clearer (outside of emotion), he would find that he didn’t really feel the way he thought he felt. It was fine. There was a wide marble silence; Kiku knew the sun was going to rise outside, but it was peculiar- the starry darkness outside the glass doors was so absolute and so still that it seemed it would stay that way for at least a couple hours more, if not indefinitely. There were lights across the street, and shining down from the lampposts; there was a garbage can, and a stray cat who sat watching the street just as Kiku was.
And Kiku’s vision was unclear, completely thrown-off, when he saw Heracles walking past the glass panes, as though he was coming back. Kiku’s heart was torn in confusion and his thoughts derailed, and then just shot off into the brightness of the lights against the dark outside. Heracles seemed about to walk in, but then noticed the stray cat. He leaned down to pat its head, as though asking it for luck, and then walked back in through the doors. He saw Kiku as though he had expecting Kiku to be still standing there; and Kiku was embarrassed when he realized that he had just been standing there, giving the impression that he was waiting.
“Ah, Heracles,” Kiku managed, trying to straighten his posture.
“I told her that I forgot my cigarettes,” Heracles answered.
“You didn’t, did you?”
“No, I didn’t,” Heracles answered, shaking his head, and then he walked closer, enveloped Kiku like a storm- his mouth on Kiku’s, and Kiku felt the release of the storm, the brightness afterwards. Kiku was absolutely still, his mind was paralyzed. Heracles’s eyes flashed open, and then closed again; he shifted- an invitation to touch, and Kiku did so albeit awkwardly, his hand on Heracles’s neck, his shoulder, with the tepid, curious cautiousness of a child.
Kiku muttered a syllable into Heracles’s lips, he wasn’t actually sure what he was trying to say, and Heracles pulled away; he remained close- he held Kiku still. “I don’t really know what you want,” he said, his words even, calm as though they had seen the ocean at its worst.
Kiku felt panic shaking in his arms again; he felt awkward- this all felt awkward, strange, extremely uncomfortably new- but he just tightened his arms around Heracles’s neck, buried his face in the smooth cloth of his shirt (unaware of the surprise that colored Heracles’s face at that moment). “I can’t,” Kiku said, sighing almost in defeat, “I’m very sorry. I’m not sure why, but- I am not sure what I want. I’m sorry for rambling.”
He felt Heracles nod; he had a feeling that things from here were going to be much worse, that the moment was decisive.
“I have to go,” Heracles said, sliding his eyes toward the door. “I just wanted to-”
“Of course,” Kiku answered, with a firm nod.
Heracles nodded back, something low in his eyes, something nice; he looked over Kiku and paused. “Oh, sorry,” he said, “I messed up your suit.” He proceeded to try and fix the lapel and tie, but Kiku just shook his head and told him it was fine, he should go.
Then he kissed him again, on the mouth, then on the cheek, and seemed to breath Kiku’s smell of charcoal smoke; he said, “I’m going to go now,” but it seemed like a promise to definitely be back, and he turned and went. Kiku watched him disappear from sight (he said something to the cat, or at least appeared to), and everything fell to equilibrium. He was in a worse situation now than before. He was still unsure. He felt a thousand times better, or a thousand times worse, or maybe just a thousand times more, than he had
before Heracles had kissed him. A thousand times more; as in, the world was more vibrant, and he felt helpless and alive.
Kiku was right in feeling that things, from then on, would get much worse. He was unable to be cautious, because he hadn’t predicted that it would turn out to this bad. It was a disaster, a torrential or seismic disaster that shook up the club and caused tumult within.
Heracles, from then on, still showed up to work, still did everything as normal. The difference was that he quietly refused to be anything more than cordial with the girls, even his designated customers (perhaps even more so with them). He refused to touch them or compliment them unecessarily or reinforce the palace of dreams that they had built with monetary brick on monetary brick. Most girls were confused and complained to Yao in privacy; others threw tantrums right at the table and demanded to know what was wrong
with him; still others would break down crying for some mysterious reason, and even then Heracles would just hand them a tissue and pat their backs, as though to say, “that’s okay, let it all out.”
His fellow hosts were extremely vexed, and those who entertained along with him were often stuck trying to make everything better. Heracles turned out to be impervious to the confused goading of Yong Soo, the infuriated demands of Yao, and the exhausted pleading of Kiku. Aside from that he went about everything- champagne calls, for example- as usual, and didn’t even give the outward impression that he believed his job was in jeopardy.
Kiku was telling him, one day after work, that he needed to do his job (not venturing to say aloud that “didn’t mind,” because that would give the impression that something was going on) (which most people guessed, so it was only for himself that he was hiding the obvious), that he was causing unecessary turmoil. Heracles just nodded, not exactly considering it, and Yao said, across the room, his tongue
whiplash coated with acid:
“I don’t understand why I’m paying you if you don’t work, aru. Why don’t you just quit?”
Heracles let enough of a moment go by, and then answered, “Why don’t you fire me?”
-That was because, even though he refused to do his job, he was still their number one, and wasn’t easily replaced. If he was fired, there would be a large gap to fill (it was needless to say that the girls whose type Heracles was were not going to find Yong Soo very attractive). They could fire him, but for now they were working on trying to convince him to change his mind about the whole thing. After all, most of the girls kept coming back just on the hopes that he would be changed the next day; some kept coming back because they found the change in personality “exciting;” still others came with no reason, perhaps because they had a fetish for split personalities, or being treated coldly.
Kiku couldn’t even convince him, because it wasn’t so much a show of devotion as the conclusion of his own sense of logic, and the fondness he had for Kiku. He didn’t want to see Kiku trying to struggle with conflicting feelings; besides, it made sense to him that if he wanted only one person, he wouldn’t act like he wanted anyone else.
What further frustrated the situation (for Kiku, at least) was that Heracles was rather...forward with his intentions. He was looking to break through both of their spheres of solemnity. The worst of it was one day, when he and Heracles were going down in the elevator together (Kiku had wanted to step outside to free himself ephemerally of the chaos; Heracles was all too happy to go along with). The silence left its uncomfortable caresses across Kiku’s mind; he looked up at Heracles tentatively. He knew that Heracles didn’t mind chaos- could drift steady in confusion, could hold his ground and not blink an eye in a storm or a deluge. Kiku cleared his throat. “Eh- Heracles,” he started to say, touching the sleeve of Heracles’s suit jacket.
Heracles turned to him- hesitant, as Kiku was- but he must have read something between the lines of Kiku’s eyes because before Kiku could process it, he was pushed against one of the walls of the elevator with sudden urgency. He cried out in surprise, but it was stifled when he felt Heracles’s hair brushing his skin; his face buried in the crook of his neck, with warmth and color. Japan pushed his hand against Heracles’s chest, but it wasn’t really to push him away; his tongue was slick, slid in an inscrutable pattern, not to garner a reaction, but simply to taste. It was completely seamless; it was perhaps that they were so similar and so comfortable with each other that this was bound to happen at one point or another.
“Heracles,” Kiku breathed, feeling the heaviness of his weight; and while he was lost in sensation when Heracles took his face in his hands and kissed him (all tongue and wet, closed eyes), in the back of his mind he was fully aware of where they were, the fact that the elevator would not be going down forever, and the fact that this was entirely inappropriate. But he couldn’t stop himself; it seemed that years of control were wasted at the first request of desire. Kiku’s hand slid along the planes of Heracles’s shoulder, felt the slope of his neck-
And then there was a ringing sound; the elevator doors slid open with a friendly, professional air. And on the other side was a girl in a chocolate brown dress, hair done up nicely with permed waves and almost professional makeup. Kiku recognized her as one of Yong Soo’s clients.
“Oh- hello,” Heracles said, nodding at her because he recognized her, and also because he seemed to have no inhibitions and no cares that anybody should know whom he was kissing in elevators.
“H-hello, Heracles,” she stammered, averting her eyes and trying to act as though she hadn’t seen anything (which in effect, made everything worse).
“I- I think you should go back up, Heracles,” Kiku said, and with a cough, “Hello, Misaki.” She nodded; he bit his lip and tried to will the red off of his face, but it didn’t fade; it seemed to become brighter. He turned back, nodded at Heracles in a very discreet, professional manner, and then went with his burning shame past the lobby and into the open air to sort out all his buzzing, distracting thoughts.
The space in his mind was blank; he wondered- why couldn’t he just do something about it? A yes, a no, a straight line. Things were never that simple, though; never that simple anywhere, in someone’s mind, in reality. How could someone give themselves over completely to something, someone, when everything could vanish upon waking?
He felt more tired than before; his suit jacket weighed on his shoulders like the descendents of smoke. He did feel he had to do something, but at the same time, he also felt like ignoring everything, waiting until it all ebbed out. He figured he would sort it out, for the sake of the others.
He was met by Yong Soo and Misaki and some other customers when he came back through the club doors, but he managed to emerge unscathed from that encounter and walked about, looking for Heracles. He found him talking with some woman whom he didn’t bother to look at. “May I speak to you in the back room?” he asked, and began to lead the way without hearing his answer.
Heracles nodded to the woman, got up with a slightly swinging movement, and caught up to Kiku. Nothing was said, or even implied to be said, until they reached the room; Yao wasn’t there, that was good. Kiku flicked the light on and silence was the official policy of the area surrounding. Heracles closed the door behind them. Kiku contemplated sitting in the chair behind the desk- but God, no, he couldn’t do that, play the professional role. That wasn’t anything he wanted to do any longer.
Instead he leaned against the wall and they stoo in their places, quite casually, on the level. Kiku was aware that there was a type of fear collecting in his chest; or maybe it wasn’t so much a fear as an apprehension. He breathed in deeply, said, “I’m not sure-” but that didn’t seem right, so he amended it with, “This is a problem.”
Heracles nodded, with a small shrug. “It could be,” he answered, and then after a pause; “How do you mean?”
“I’m sorry, I mean no offense-”
“It doesn’t matter. Be offensive if you want.”
“I couldn’t,” Kiku said, biting his lip; “This may not work, as long as we- both work here.” He paused; his eyes were illegible. “You understand.”
Heracles couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Are you firing me?”
Kiku chuckled as well, but it sounded restrained. “Perhaps.”
Heracles nodded; but then he leaned against the wall, close to Kiku, looking at him sidelong with a serious expression. “-What do you mean, though...by ‘perhaps’?”
Kiku’s face flushed pink; he managed, “That- that it depends,” kicking himself for still being vague.
“It depends if we’re- ?” Heracles asked. He seemed to know that Kiku wouldn’t respond to direct language; well, of course he knew- he seemed to understand Kiku inside and out.
Kiku closed his eyes and nodded. Heracles paused, long enough for the words to sink in,long enough for both of them to think. “Are we?”
The blush deepened. “I- I don’t- I have no idea...” He paused. He felt Heracles’s eyes on him, watching him as he spoke. “I believe- I believe I’m going to have to let you go.”
He didn’t realize that could mean more than one thing; Heracles seemed to understand what he was getting at, and he just nodded. Unfazed as ever- nothing affected him; he seemed to have no expectations. Kiku wasn’t sure of anything; the room was shady and silent even under the electric light.
“...You shouldn’t be so afraid, little one,” Heracles said, mussing Kiku’s hair; then he paused, and rescinded his statement. “Or, you should...if you want to be. I can’t control the way you think.” He paused, seeming to think on his next words. “I’m not going to tell you to do anything. You can just talk to me about it whenever...” Kiku found a smile in his words, but none crossing his mouth. Heracles was close to him; he kissed him, and Kiku pulled him closer by the tie. The silence was standard.
And after that, Kiku told him, again reverting to the vague words and tones that he was comfortable in, that he should stay for the rest of the day, but not come back into work the next. Heracles didn’t seem to take offense at Kiku’s formality, but who knew what he felt? Or who knew if he was only hiding it for Kiku’s benefit? He left the room before Kiku did.
It wasn’t final. It was just another thing he wanted, passing him by. He felt cleared, for one moment, but ended up feeling, strangely, that he’d done the wrong thing.
There was a quietness after the wreck; the feeling was distilled. The clients of course discerned the absence of a certain handsome foreigner, but it seemed all equal to them anyway, because they came for love and not for love in particular. In the scheme of things, people are very often not affected at all by such things. The hosts were a little more off-put; they wondered where Heracles was. In the days that followed, they mostly came to the conclusion that something had happened between him and Kiku; it was a very hush-hush thing, because nobody who would know said anything about it. Kiku wouldn’t have said anything anyway, and Yao, who was usually such a loudmouth, was stubbornly silent.
“I think they were involved or something,” Yoh commented, fixing his hair in one of the mirrors and then ducking back out to get into the main room.
“Oh, really? I never knew he liked guys,” Kouga said thoughtfully.
“Well, he’s Greek, you know,” Kio laughed. “I never got his number though, I should. He was pretty cool.”
It was at that moment that Yong Soo was hit with an ungenius idea explaining what had happened. “Of course!” he said, leaping up from his place and pounding his fist into his open palm, eyes lightning bright, “That’s it! He’s gone because they got married and Kiku doesn’t want him to work!” He looked at his fellow hosts who were wondering if Yong Soo was kidding or not. “Although, you know, Kiku’s a sly dog, I always thought he’d be the wife!”
“I don’t think-” Kouga started, but Yong Soo ran off. Not to the spread news, but simply to run with it.
Kiku, who had deteriorated to being a zombie in the horrible days he was having, had a breakdown when Yong Soo started to throw rice at him whenever he came into a room. “Stop harassing Kiku, aru! Or I’ll fire you!” Yao said, pushing Yong Soo away. With that, Yao looked at Kiku, rolled his eyes, and tugged him into the back room like an exasperated mother would.
Kiku, bewildered at being so suddenly displaced, sat down on the couch across from the desk and, not seeing anything else to do, held his head in his hands, propping his elbows up on his knees. Yao’s expression was one of irritation; that spell of aggravation had him caught for a moment, his eyes bright in their amber storm, but then he caught himself and turned to Kiku, laughing slightly.
“I don’t know what’s up with that guy, aru,” Yao said, still attempting to be lighthearted. It took Kiku a couple of moments to realize that Yao was referring to Yong Soo.
Kiku paused. “I’m sorry for troubling you,” he said, and Yao bristled under the glacial formality.
He sighed heavily. “Aiyah,” he said, folding his arms, “What’s wrong, now? Didn’t you solve the problem?”
“I- I suppose so,” Kiku said.
“Then what’s the matter? Do you like him, aru?”
Kiku’s eyes widened for a moment; his words tripped over each other, but he felt something fall. He was extremely uncomfortable discussing it with Yao, but he ended up saying, “Yes, I believe so.”
Yao didn’t seem surprised; or if he was surprised, it was at the fact that Kiku was being direct with him for once, was saying what he really felt. “Then,” Yao continued, leaning against one of the shelves, “Just call him, or something, aru. Just tell him so.”
“N-no! I can’t!” Kiku snapped, the color draining from his face.
Yao paused, contemplating Kiku for a moment, sitting and looking so small and lost in the gray, buzzing light of the room. “Why are you always so difficult?” Yao snapped, irritated. “W-well, what do I know, aru. Take care of your own love life, it has nothing to do with me!”
Kiku nodded; Yao tarried, unsure of what he’d just said, or what he should say to him. Kiku had the feeling that this was a conversation they’d repeated many times before, in similar rooms, although it was impossible- they’d never spoken to each other like this.
“You always make things difficult for yourself, aru,” Yao said, with another heavy sigh.
He started to ask himself- was he his own problem? What did he really want? Oh, why were these things only filled with questions, when all he wanted was to be released? Yao stood by, looking at nothing; he had to get back to work, but he was just standing there. Kiku wasn’t sure if he himself wanted anything in particular; the only thing he knew that was worth wanting for himself was Heracles, with his strong silence, his thoughful eyes, his tongue that seemed to perfectly meld into Kiku’s. He touched his mouth in the memory of the taste.
It was never easy. “Do whatever you want with yourself,” Yao had said, at length, shrugging, “It’s your life.”
After that, Kiku had taken off for the day; he told no one but Yao where he was going, or that he was going, and so slipped away without anyone’s knowledge. Now he was seeing the city as he never saw it- during most of his waking hours he was in the club, in his home. There was a magic in the darkness, and the fast beat of the city’s heart made its streets pulsate with that magic; one always heard city streets and city hearts being spoken of as polluted, dirty. It was easy to breathe on these streets, though.
You could sail on the waves that people’s dreams made on the streets. It wasn’t such a bad thing after all. Daunting, perhaps; not entirely negative. It was warm out, you didn’t need a jacket to feel comfortable. Kiku wondered if by wandering far enough one could find what they wanted. He took out his phone and sent a message- the time and the place.
He walked for a long while; the cars that passed him by blew a free breeze and peppered everything into a near-bliss with headlights blue and white. Then when it was time to meet, he walked back toward the club, turning off a ways to some obscure street where there weren’t many lights, nor people.
Kiku saw him waiting from a ways off, and his heart sped up, that same old nervous feeling that was light and panicky; he decided, though, that he would look things in the face, deal with them as they should be dealt with- pay attention and do it right. It was late enough that neon was flashing by the metal and glass. It was odd to see Heracles not wearing a suit; he was just dressed in jeans, a white t-shirt.
Shining off both their eyes, the lights of the city. Heracles offered Kiku a cigarette; he took one, and they shared the flame to light. They exchanged some pleasantries, and Kiku felt horizontal, felt almost completely comfortable. It was tacitly understood that Heracles was very willing to be patient, and Kiku was glad for it. Then turning, Kiku started toward their next destination (whatever that would be) and Heracles followed after, never telling how close.
NOTES;;
rgkher giiljeiogj this was so long. D: it turned out being so because i couldn't imagine a host club outside of Japan; that being the case, i had to explain why Heracles would be in Japan; i also felt that AU!Kiku wouldn't want to own a host club since it's not really that reputable of a profession, and from there it got way out of hand.
1] I did most of my research on host clubs from the movie The Great Happiness Space: Tales of an Osaka Love Thief (a really good documentary that I think you can find on YouTube and is definitely on Netflix instant streaming); Wikipedia; and a site called the Tokyo Reporter or something, I forget. There's still a lot I don't understand about them tho, so I apologize for any glaring inaccuracies.
2] The "water trade" or "mizu shobai" (lol accent marks what are those) is the euphemism, or at least the term, for what can be called Japan's adult entertainment business- host and hostess clubs, cabarets, etc.
3] Places mentioned are Kabukicho (Shinjuku's busiest entertainment neighborhood), Takadanobaba, the Shinjuku Golden Gai, and Okubo. I'm only vaguely aware of the way Shinjuku is organized and where things are in relation to each other, so again, apologies for glaring inaccuracies D:
4] Takenoko no Sato are those chocolates that Greece was so enamored of in the Do Your Best, Japanese Snacks! strip. Just as an aside it was a pain in the ass to actually find those XDD I was like "Take no ko no Sato?" and got no results XD
5] I'm not sure if Cosmo circulates in Japan; I am also not sure if Japan has any MTV World type channels (probably, but I dono).
6] Headcanon dictates that Greece calls Japan "little one." Why? Greek people always invariably call me "little one" for some reason XD I have no idea why, but every Greek person I've known has called me that. It's probably because I'm short XD
Thanks for reading! :D Hope you enjoyed, disownmereturns!
and again, NO ONE SAW THAT FORMATTING FAIL.