Gift fic for gurajiorasu 9/9
A piece of rainbow for gurajiorasu Part 9
Meetings had become an integral part of his life.
There was always someone important, someone crucial he had to speak to in order to lay out one plan after another, to place a piece that would serve as a foundation towards an improvement, to something better, greater.
This was his last meeting for the day, or so Nino had told him. His face was still cool after the quick trip to the washroom, and he massaged his cheeks a little in hopes of turning on his switch for one last time before finally heading out to deal with the final appointment that had been scheduled.
There was a forecast of a thunderstorm tonight, and the sooner he could conclude his day, the sooner he could get home. Rain was acceptable if he was indoors and could admire the view of lightning piercing the sky by his apartment window. The sight of it was magnificent, and watching storms unfold, despite the disorder they brought, somehow gave him peace. In his rare moments of what perhaps could constitute as madness, he began to anticipate that entropy could bring him serenity.
His visitor was admiring the view that stretched far and wide, as far as the sea touching the horizon. The coast was full of ongoing deliveries he had approved of weeks ago, buzzing with activity and business transactions. The sun was close to setting, but it bathed everything in his penthouse suite in a sea of orange, each bright ray hitting the form of his guest and obscuring most of the view from him.
“Armani, as always,” a deep voice came, the tone hinting at a smile. He froze in his tracks, stomach dropping at the immediate realization.
He didn’t want to believe it. But his guest spoke once more, using that baritone he hadn’t heard in years.
“I always thought you looked pristine in those fancy suits of yours, but perhaps seeing it in person after all this time is something I can never account for.”
A million things wanted to burst forth from his mouth, one question after another. Yet he couldn’t wrap his head around them to articulate any, and all he managed in the end was a disbelieving, accusatory, breathy “You-” that got caught in his throat.
His heart felt like it wanted to break free from its confines. It might be the sun blanketing them and the entire penthouse suite in a warm glow, but he felt like a burning star standing in the middle of an endless void, powerless to do anything.
A beat, then his visitor finally turned to face him, and one look on the man’s face made the entirety of three long years vanish, collapsing into nothingness.
Jun was inevitably drawn to everything he was allowed to look at: Sho’s face, his tiny smile, the white yukata he was wearing appearing orange under the sun. They stood too far from each other, but Jun couldn’t move even if he wanted to. He was rooted to where he was, trapped in a moment of utter shock and disbelief combined.
“Hello Jun,” Sho greeted, remaining where he stood. “It’s been a while.”
Jun’s breaths came rushed and hard, and he felt stuffed in his suit. He closed his eyes briefly, wondering if this was all a dream, an apparition, or a gratuitous hallucination. If it was, he’d want nothing to remember this day by. Perhaps he’d gone mad with the longing he’d tried so hard to suppress and ignore.
“Look at me,” Sho said, voice soft but audible since they were alone.
Jun didn’t, but he snapped his eyes open, keeping his gaze above Sho’s head, past the windows.
“It’s been what, two, three years?” Sho asked, the light from outside obscuring half of his face. Jun wished he’d see more, but he didn’t know if he could take it after all this time. “Look at me.”
“I know how you look like,” Jun managed to say, wanting to squeeze his eyes shut together. Why now? Why after all those years of silence? If this was a trick conjured by his mind, he wondered how his thoughts could run so cruel.
“And I know how you do, too, but I haven’t seen you in so long,” Sho said patiently.
Jun met his eyes across the room, and when Sho began approaching him, Jun’s first instinct was to step back. But he couldn’t get his feet to move and obey him, so he remained frozen in place, taking in Sho’s appearance. Sho’s hair was black now, strands falling over his eyes. It had been a darker shade of brown the last time Jun had seen him. He got a few wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, but they still creased when Sho smiled. He had the same smile, full lips turning up to reveal teeth, and Jun loathed every second of seeing it.
Sho stopped walking when he was a few paces from Jun, maintaining a respectable distance, but he was close enough that Jun was able to catch a whiff of his scent.
It hadn’t changed. Nothing about him seemed to have.
“Why now?” Jun asked, when it was clear that Sho was merely contented with looking at him. It hurt more than he’d imagined. When he had been delusional and foolish, he’d thought of how Sho would come back to him, allowed himself to be lost in a fantasy. If Sho had changed, it would have been easier to let him go, since he’d practically be a stranger.
But he wasn’t, not with the way he was looking at Jun, not even with the change in hair color and the evidence of age on his face. He was how Jun had remembered him, and Jun wished he’d wake up if this was a heartless joke.
“You’ve been alive all this time and not a word?”
“They were watching you,” Sho pointed out, waving his hand to gesture behind him, past the windows.
“And?” Jun couldn’t keep the hurt from his voice and he hated it. He had never felt so vulnerable, not since Sho disappeared and never came back. “Since when did that stop you?”
“Since I had to die so you wouldn’t,” Sho answered calmly. “Or at least, appear dead.”
Jun walked past Sho to get to his chair. He needed something between them, something solid like his desk. He wouldn’t get the truths he wanted if Sho was standing so close.
Sho didn’t wait for an invitation; he approached the chair across Jun’s desk and sat on it like he was a normal client and this was a normal conversation they would be having.
“Is it safe for you to come back now?” was what Jun settled for, keeping his tone business-like.
Sho tilted his head to the side. “It’s been safe for me to come back for a long time.”
Hearing that made it worse. Jun schooled his features to impassiveness and cast a bored look in Sho’s way, mustering as much disinterest as he could. “So why now? Why now, after all those years? I tried-I had men who tried to find you.”
“You had, at first,” Sho acknowledged. “Do you want to know what happened on the yacht that night, Jun?”
“Don’t say my name,” Jun snapped icily. Sho had said it like nothing had changed, like he was bypassing all those years Jun had spent trying to patch himself up. If Sho wouldn’t call him by his name, Jun could keep his distance, could stay detached.
If Sho was hurt, he didn’t show it. “Matsumoto-san,” he amended. “My apologies. Old habits die hard.”
“What happened that night?” Jun asked, steering the conversation elsewhere.
Sho blinked, gaze dropping to the bonsai sitting on his far left. He didn’t comment on it. “Two or three weeks before the meeting took place, Satoshi-kun finally found him. My cousin. He was lurking around Minato because he didn’t believe I died. I asked Satoshi-kun to bring him to me so we could negotiate.”
“And you couldn’t have told me?” Jun thought they were in the plan together. Was he so wrong to have believed that?
“He would have tried to kill you if you knew,” Sho said. “I promised him everything under my name if he would lie low since it was too late to cancel the gathering taking place by the end of that month. He didn’t listen, as you witnessed.”
“You made the arrangements even before we all boarded that yacht,” Jun concluded. “You divided your assets and properties already.” He’d thought right.
“I couldn’t let him have everything,” Sho reasoned.
“But you let him go anyway.”
“He was working for Inohara, who knew nothing about his motives. You knew I had certain members of my family scattered in different clans so I could monitor them minimally. I had to let him go so as not to alert anyone that I was alive.”
Jun snorted. “Should’ve known you’d hate to be slandered despite you tricking everyone about your death.” Including me, he didn’t add.
Sho frowned at him, looking absolutely confused and bewildered. “Ju-Matsumoto-san, you made the gathering possible because I appeared dead. It wasn’t my slander I was preventing. I thought that part would at least be clear to you.”
“How can it?” Jun seethed, eyes narrowing. “I didn’t know a damn thing when I got on that boat! How was I supposed to know what you were doing?”
“You weren’t,” Sho replied, still in that infuriatingly calm tone that Jun didn’t want to hear anymore. “I had to go and I couldn’t let you know.”
“Why? Because you were afraid I wouldn’t understand?”
Sho smiled sadly and shook his head once. “I was trying to keep you safe. The less you knew, the better. Besides, you ceased your involvement with me a month before that gathering. Or do you not remember?”
Jun was fuming. “Don’t you dare pin this on me. I did what I had to do at that time. I had every intention of…” He trailed off, not wanting to admit it. He had wanted to pick up whatever he had with Sho. He took a deep breath before speaking again. “What happened after?”
“My cousin died,” Sho explained. “It was a struggle until the end. He realized I had no plans of giving him anything, but we were already too far from the city. He tried to shoot his way out, but he was outnumbered. No matter how many men he’d thought he’d converted to his side, that yacht was mine.”
Jun wondered if Sho had sustained any injuries from that time. There were no evident marks on his skin that wasn’t hidden by his yukata. Would Jun be able to tell? It had been years ago.
“And you chose to disappear just like that instead of coming back to see what you left us with?”
“I left you a house as a souvenir and I gave you the port,” Sho pointed out. “I handed to you the biggest source of income in this city, the one thing I knew you wanted from me.”
The one thing he wanted? Jun saw red. “I never wanted those gifts!” Jun shot back. “I didn’t want any of them at that time!”
Sho looked taken aback. “Then what did you want?! What else could you have wanted?” Sho was shaking his head now. “I gave you everything. Everything you wanted-respect, power, money, the port back in your family’s control. I stayed dead for years so I wouldn’t soil your name, affect your affairs. What more did you want?”
“You knew exactly what I wanted,” Jun murmured, voice betraying him. His chest felt constricted. “You said it yourself.”
I would have wanted to live in that house in the mountains for the rest of my days. Or somewhere else far away, from all this.
Sho drew back a little as he seemed to remember.
“Why did you come back?” Jun asked shakily, hating himself for being so open and so out of control. “Why are you back?”
“I wanted to see how you were doing,” Sho admitted quietly.
“You said they were all watching me when I asked you why you kept mum about surviving. There were eyes on me and you knew. You knew how I was doing because you were watching me too.”
“I wanted to see you up close,” Sho clarified. “I haven’t been able to do that for so long.”
“You’re late,” was all Jun could say.
A sad, resigned smile crossed Sho’s face. “I guess I simply wanted to hear that for myself.” He exhaled, then squared his shoulders. “Thank you for your time today, Matsumoto-san.” He gave a little bow, his voice all formal and composed. “I can promise that this will be the last time you’d have to entertain me. My sincerest apologies for the inconvenience I may have caused you.”
Sho stood and stepped aside to push the chair he used back into its original place, like nothing had disturbed it. He looked around his surroundings, like he was checking for something.
Jun realized this was Sho removing traces of his appearance. Erasing his presence, like he was never here. Was he going to vanish for good? With a proper goodbye this time?
Could Jun forgive himself if he let that happen again?
“Are you leaving?” Jun asked. He had to know this time.
Sho was looking at the tree on Jun’s right. “Yes. There’s no place for me here. I have nothing. I am nothing. I no longer belong in your world.” Sho smiled. “It was nice seeing you, to have met you again. I mean that. I hope you have a good night, Matsumoto-san.”
Sho moved to leave, and Jun was struck with how many times he saw Sho do that. Once, when there had been blood on his knuckles and his rage had felt like fire coursing through him. Twice, when Sho had bargained for his safety and left him to deal with everything Sho had put under his name.
If Sho walked out that door, Jun knew he would never see him again.
“Three hours,” Jun blurted out.
Sho halted in his steps and turned to him with a questioning look.
“Three hours,” Jun repeated, remembering that night he’d asked Sho to hide with him. Would Sho remember it as well? “Give me three hours.”
Sho’s eyebrows were knitted, but his eyes eventually cleared. “Where?” he asked, uncertain.
“I live in the same place,” Jun said, keeping his voice steady now. For several moments, there was nothing but silence between them.
Sho finally smiled, small but hopeful.
“Don’t be late.”
--
Jun arrived at his apartment with all the lights off except for the ones in the genkan, and he found Sho sitting at the step. He could’ve invited himself inside, but he had chosen otherwise.
“Ninomiya-san gave me a key on my way out,” Sho explained, holding out his palm. “He said I should return it to you.”
Jun took the key, careful not to brush their fingers. He toed off his shoes, offered Sho a pair of slippers to use without uttering a word, and he strode inside his place without checking if Sho followed him. He shrugged off his suit jacket and draped it over a chair, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows.
“What would it be?” Jun asked, keeping his back turned to Sho as he perused his bottles of liquor.
“Anything would do,” Sho answered.
Jun picked up the bottle of whiskey and started pouring in two glasses, focusing on the task to stop his thoughts. He’d invited Sho. And for what?
You know exactly what, he told himself. He picked up both glasses and turned around, breath stilling when he found himself face to face with Sho, who stood so close. He nearly dropped the glasses, but Sho was watching out for them and had his hands supporting the base of each.
Sho gently pried the glasses from his trembling hands and put them back on the counter.
When Sho spoke next, he was whispering. “I have nothing except for a name that isn’t even mine.” He waved his arm slightly, and Jun remembered what was hidden underneath that sleeve.
Was it still there?
Jun stepped closer, breathing in Sho’s space. “Do you know what you’re doing?”
“Do you?” Sho asked back.
There was nothing between them anymore, just the walls Jun had erected around himself, a barricade to keep his sentiments at bay and the yearning that never truly disappeared.
Jun grabbed the sides of Sho’s face and yanked Sho to him, covering Sho’s mouth with his own. It was everything he’d remembered-blistering heat that could incinerate him, turn him to cinders, but one he would never shy away from. He had missed this, denied himself of even thinking it might be possible to have it again. Sho opened his mouth at the first prod of Jun’s tongue and Jun swept in, wanting to taste everything, to find out if this Sho was the Sho he’d once known.
His Sho-kun, after all these years.
Somehow, despite Jun’s haze, he was able to guide them both to the bedroom, descending on top of Sho once the back of Sho’s knees hit the mattress. Jun kissed him quiet, kissed him repeatedly, taking it all for himself.
He has always been selfish.
Sho’s fingers fumbled for the buttons of his vest and he obliged, helping Sho along, maneuvering his shoulders to rid himself of his clothes. It took them some time but Jun kept himself distracted with Sho’s mouth, and soon he was able to discard his vest, tie, and dress shirt on the floor.
“You’ve filled out,” Sho muttered, sounding impressed and immensely pleased as his hands roamed. His touch trailed and lingered, fingers ghosting over Jun’s necklace. “You still wear it.”
Jun didn’t know what to say to that, so he settled for untying the knot of Sho’s obi and pushing Sho’s yukata off his shoulders. Doing so revealed more skin, and Jun pulled back from the tempting heat to run his hands over Sho’s exposed chest.
“Where did you get this?” he asked, finding a scar close to Sho’s sternum he couldn’t remember seeing before. It wasn’t long, but the raised skin had to have been a big gaping wound before.
“That night on the yacht,” Sho explained, planting light kisses on his jaw. “It was just a scratch.”
It wasn’t, and Jun knew it had to have been a slash Sho had undoubtedly bled from.
He shoved Sho flat on the bed and began kissing every scar he could find. The one from the bullet that had missed his liver. The one sitting near his breastbone. There was another in the space between his ribs, and Jun ran his lips over it, kissing, tasting, letting his tongue be familiar with the feel of rough skin.
Jun pulled away to grab what he needed from the nightstand, and when he came back, Sho was leaning on his elbows and eyeing him.
“Were there others?” Sho asked, and Jun detected the hint of jealousy in his tone.
“Yes, but none I can remember and none worth going back to,” Jun admitted. He’d had a couple of bedwarmers when it became evident that Sho had vanished from his life, each of them trying to convince him that they had been there for him. That they had been on Jun’s side out of affection and concern. It had worked for a while, but once the thrill of orgasm had faded into nothingness, Jun’s emptiness had remained, an unaddressed longing for someone who was no longer there.
No matter how hard he’d tried to pretend, none of them had made him feel as much as Sho had. None of them had that hold, that power over him.
He shoved the lube in Sho’s hands, kissing away his pout. “Were there others?” he asked against Sho’s lips.
“Some,” Sho answered, uncapping the lube and spreading it on his fingers. “But none were as memorable as you.” Sho pulled him close and kissed him, hard and insistent. “It’s been a while for us, so you have to remind me.”
“Do it,” Jun ordered, pulling back, panting against Sho’s ear. “I want to see you do it.”
Sho obliged, reaching between his legs. He didn’t look away from Jun when he inserted a finger in, biting his lip at the slight burn. Sho opened himself slowly, and Jun kept his hands on Sho’s thighs in order to see everything.
Jun encouraged him, stroking the insides of his thighs as he slowly worked himself open, another finger eventually joining the other. Sho’s hips were bucking, and Jun got off the bed to remove his slacks and free himself.
He returned and stretched across Sho’s body to find Sho’s mouth, taking all his quiet moans for himself. This is mine, he kept thinking, listening to the slick sounds of Sho fingering himself. This is all mine now.
He pulled back and replaced his mouth with his thumb, unable to look away as Sho sucked on it hungrily, using it to silence his groans. Jun reached for the condom and quickly rolled it onto himself, slicking himself sloppily in his haste. He lined up, and Sho reached for his nape, pulling him back down for another kiss.
Jun pushed in, his moan joining Sho’s, echoing together in the room. He could remember this. The warmth that threatened to put him on edge, the tightness that engulfed him. Lightning outside bathed the room in light for a moment, and a booming rumble of thunder echoed.
Jun thought of storm gods and began moving, slowly at first and gradually increasing his pace. He kept Sho’s legs apart by grabbing his thighs, and Sho had no choice but to buck back and take it, Jun’s thrusts getting forceful by the moment.
Sho made this choked groan and bit his lip, eyes squeezed shut. Jun let go of Sho’s legs to brace himself on his forearms, aligning his body with Sho’s and sending himself deeper. Sho clung onto his shoulders, meeting his movements halfway.
They were in sync, lightning occasionally illuminating the room, giving Jun a glimpse of Sho’s flushed face. He was real. He was here, and he was moving with Jun, taking everything Jun had to give. He was solid underneath Jun, not a phantasm that a lonely mind had been prone to dreaming.
Jun grasped Sho’s face to have Sho look at him.
“Say it,” he groaned, feeling Sho clench around him. “Say it, say it.” He wanted to hear it, now that he was in this moment, now that he had Sho in his arms again. “Say it.”
A sharp thrust and Sho arched, mouth parting in pleasure. “Jun,” Sho breathed, finally acquiescing. Jun wanted him to say it again so he sped up, the obscene sounds of him fucking Sho ringing in his ears along with the recurring thunder.
Sho kept groaning his name, and he let his fingers tell his story, his wants, his desires, his emotions-the things he couldn’t say. A tight press of his fingertips around Sho’s wrists yielded haphazard patterns; Sho was the one who easily bruised. Jun trailed his hands down, down, and clutched, desperate but unable to say it.
“I’m here,” Sho gasped, a reminder that pierced the silence. He had his fingers tangled with the chain of Jun’s necklace, pulling a little to grab Jun’s attention.
Was Jun’s desperation so felt?
Jun lifted his head from the crook of Sho’s neck, breath stilling.
Sho looked him in the eye. “I’m here with you,” Sho whispered, and it sounded like relief. Like he found his way back after wandering and being lost and aimless for so long.
“You said the same thing the last time,” Jun husked, lowering his head to hide how he felt. It had been on the same bed. Was this also the last time in a long time? Jun didn’t want to think of that, but the possibility was gnawing at him.
Sho’s nails embedded themselves on his biceps before Sho gave in to another loud moan. What he said next made something snap in Jun, the world falling into place.
“I never left.” Sho’s fingers traced across Jun’s brow. “I couldn’t.”
It made Jun burn for him, the ache so raw and neglected after years of silence, but never, never leaving. Sho had left a void with his absence, one that Jun had never been able to fill.
He should have known. Out of all those who loved him, Sho was his favorite. The only one he’d embraced and entertained.
The only one he’d waited for despite him telling himself otherwise.
Jun picked up pace, need taking over his body and overwhelming his senses. He tumbled over the edge not long after, burying himself deep and letting his mind blank out, the feeling of Sho with and around him the only thing he was aware of-Sho’s scent, Sho’s deep, ragged breaths next to his ear, Sho still clinging to him.
When Jun could get his limbs to move, he pressed kisses all over Sho’s face, down his neck, his chest, nipping here and there. He strayed lower, past Sho’s navel and took Sho’s cock into his mouth without warning, planting his fingers on Sho’s thighs to keep them from jolting.
Sho got one hand in Jun’s hair, spine curving. “Jun,” he warned, breath hitching.
Jun pushed in two of his fingers inside Sho, who was still slick and loose, and crooked them.
Sho’s grunt as he spilled himself inside Jun’s mouth was overshadowed by the roll of thunder, and it reminded Jun of the deity covering Sho’s back. It was still there, and Jun had caught glimpses of it back when he’d been stripping Sho bare.
He slid up and collapsed on the space beside Sho, their breaths almost synchronous with one another. Sho instinctively curled against him, cheek resting right on Jun’s clavicle.
“You have me,” Jun whispered, one arm roping around Sho’s shoulders to pull him closer. His heart rate remained erratic, and he wondered if Sho could feel it spike with his admission. “You’ve always had me.”
“I had a feeling,” Sho admitted, dropping a soft kiss to his collarbone, just above the chain of his necklace. “I wouldn’t be back if a part of me didn’t hope for it.”
“Where’s Ohno-san?” he asked, fingers already playing with Sho’s locks. It was Sho with him now. He hadn’t been able to touch Sho like this for so long, but it no longer mattered.
It was Sho and he was here, sorely missed yet still achingly familiar despite the years.
“Still working for me. Or at least, whatever work he can do for me.” Sho lifted his head a little. “Why?”
“I think Nino would want to see him again.” Jun never found out what Nino had with Ohno, but he knew he wasn’t the only one affected by Sho’s disappearance. “Aiba too,” he added as an afterthought.
Sho snorted. “What makes you think they haven’t seen each other already?”
It sounded like something Ohno would do, given his sleuth. Jun smiled, finding that some things hadn’t changed.
“May I stay?” Sho murmured after a while. It had lingered between them, the one question that had plagued their minds but neither had wanted to voice out, until Sho had done so.
Jun wouldn’t have him anywhere else, but he had to settle things first. “On one condition,” he said. He felt Sho shift slightly, now closely breathing against the crook of his neck. Jun pulled back a little to meet Sho’s eyes. “No more secrets. If there’s something you’re thinking of doing, tell me. If you have a plan, let me know. If you’re leaving again-”
“I’m not.” Sho shook his head. “Unless you want me to. I have nothing to hide from you anymore. I want to stay, if you’ll allow me.” Sho allowed himself a tiny smile. “If you’ll have me. If you’ll still have me.”
Jun took a deep breath, a crack of lightning giving him a glimpse of his surroundings, of the unguarded expression on Sho’s face. “Any other secrets you want to tell me?”
Sho chuckled against his skin, just as rumbling roar of thunder echoed around them. “I still can’t operate a toaster that is of a different model.”
Jun joined Sho in laughter, feeling something uncoil inside him, like hope blossoming in his heart. Maybe this time they could make it work. Maybe this was something Jun could finally have. There was no one else he loved as much as he did Sho.
And no one else who loved him as much as Sho did.
Together, perhaps they could figure things out.
Jun reached blindly in the darkness to find Sho’s wrist, and he raised it so he could see if his name was still etched on Sho’s skin like Sho had told him.
“You could’ve had this removed,” Jun said, staring at his own name. Lightning struck again, allowing Jun to see it more clearly. He ran his thumb over it. The skin was no longer reddened and the mark was not fresh, but it never faded, not even after three years.
“It wouldn’t have made any difference.”
Jun lifted the inside of Sho’s forearm to his lips, kissing the spot that Sho had marked especially for him.
“You’re happy that it’s still there,” Sho mused.
Outside, the storm continued its onslaught, turning their surroundings cold. But Jun didn’t move, wanted to stay exactly where he was.
“No,” Jun denied, hiding his smile and kissing the tattoo once more. “Not at all.”
--
On Jun’s desk, the tiny tree inside a jade pot gave way to its first flower, welcoming the arrival of spring.
Meetings had become an integral part of his life.
There was always someone important, someone crucial he had to speak to in order to lay out one plan after another, to place a piece that would serve as a foundation towards an improvement, to something better, greater.
This was his last meeting for the day, or so Nino had told him. His face was still cool after the quick trip to the washroom, and he massaged his cheeks a little in hopes of turning on his switch for one last time before finally heading out to deal with the final appointment that had been scheduled.
There was a forecast of a thunderstorm tonight, and the sooner he could conclude his day, the sooner he could get home. Rain was acceptable if he was indoors and could admire the view of lightning piercing the sky by his apartment window. The sight of it was magnificent, and watching storms unfold, despite the disorder they brought, somehow gave him peace. In his rare moments of what perhaps could constitute as madness, he began to anticipate that entropy could bring him serenity.
His visitor was admiring the view that stretched far and wide, as far as the sea touching the horizon. The coast was full of ongoing deliveries he had approved of weeks ago, buzzing with activity and business transactions. The sun was close to setting, but it bathed everything in his penthouse suite in a sea of orange, each bright ray hitting the form of his guest and obscuring most of the view from him.
“Armani, as always,” a deep voice came, the tone hinting at a smile. He froze in his tracks, stomach dropping at the immediate realization.
He didn’t want to believe it. But his guest spoke once more, using that baritone he hadn’t heard in years.
“I always thought you looked pristine in those fancy suits of yours, but perhaps seeing it in person after all this time is something I can never account for.”
A million things wanted to burst forth from his mouth, one question after another. Yet he couldn’t wrap his head around them to articulate any, and all he managed in the end was a disbelieving, accusatory, breathy “You-” that got caught in his throat.
His heart felt like it wanted to break free from its confines. It might be the sun blanketing them and the entire penthouse suite in a warm glow, but he felt like a burning star standing in the middle of an endless void, powerless to do anything.
A beat, then his visitor finally turned to face him, and one look on the man’s face made the entirety of three long years vanish, collapsing into nothingness.
Jun was inevitably drawn to everything he was allowed to look at: Sho’s face, his tiny smile, the white yukata he was wearing appearing orange under the sun. They stood too far from each other, but Jun couldn’t move even if he wanted to. He was rooted to where he was, trapped in a moment of utter shock and disbelief combined.
“Hello Jun,” Sho greeted, remaining where he stood. “It’s been a while.”
Jun’s breaths came rushed and hard, and he felt stuffed in his suit. He closed his eyes briefly, wondering if this was all a dream, an apparition, or a gratuitous hallucination. If it was, he’d want nothing to remember this day by. Perhaps he’d gone mad with the longing he’d tried so hard to suppress and ignore.
“Look at me,” Sho said, voice soft but audible since they were alone.
Jun didn’t, but he snapped his eyes open, keeping his gaze above Sho’s head, past the windows.
“It’s been what, two, three years?” Sho asked, the light from outside obscuring half of his face. Jun wished he’d see more, but he didn’t know if he could take it after all this time. “Look at me.”
“I know how you look like,” Jun managed to say, wanting to squeeze his eyes shut together. Why now? Why after all those years of silence? If this was a trick conjured by his mind, he wondered how his thoughts could run so cruel.
“And I know how you do, too, but I haven’t seen you in so long,” Sho said patiently.
Jun met his eyes across the room, and when Sho began approaching him, Jun’s first instinct was to step back. But he couldn’t get his feet to move and obey him, so he remained frozen in place, taking in Sho’s appearance. Sho’s hair was black now, strands falling over his eyes. It had been a darker shade of brown the last time Jun had seen him. He got a few wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, but they still creased when Sho smiled. He had the same smile, full lips turning up to reveal teeth, and Jun loathed every second of seeing it.
Sho stopped walking when he was a few paces from Jun, maintaining a respectable distance, but he was close enough that Jun was able to catch a whiff of his scent.
It hadn’t changed. Nothing about him seemed to have.
“Why now?” Jun asked, when it was clear that Sho was merely contented with looking at him. It hurt more than he’d imagined. When he had been delusional and foolish, he’d thought of how Sho would come back to him, allowed himself to be lost in a fantasy. If Sho had changed, it would have been easier to let him go, since he’d practically be a stranger.
But he wasn’t, not with the way he was looking at Jun, not even with the change in hair color and the evidence of age on his face. He was how Jun had remembered him, and Jun wished he’d wake up if this was a heartless joke.
“You’ve been alive all this time and not a word?”
“They were watching you,” Sho pointed out, waving his hand to gesture behind him, past the windows.
“And?” Jun couldn’t keep the hurt from his voice and he hated it. He had never felt so vulnerable, not since Sho disappeared and never came back. “Since when did that stop you?”
“Since I had to die so you wouldn’t,” Sho answered calmly. “Or at least, appear dead.”
Jun walked past Sho to get to his chair. He needed something between them, something solid like his desk. He wouldn’t get the truths he wanted if Sho was standing so close.
Sho didn’t wait for an invitation; he approached the chair across Jun’s desk and sat on it like he was a normal client and this was a normal conversation they would be having.
“Is it safe for you to come back now?” was what Jun settled for, keeping his tone business-like.
Sho tilted his head to the side. “It’s been safe for me to come back for a long time.”
Hearing that made it worse. Jun schooled his features to impassiveness and cast a bored look in Sho’s way, mustering as much disinterest as he could. “So why now? Why now, after all those years? I tried-I had men who tried to find you.”
“You had, at first,” Sho acknowledged. “Do you want to know what happened on the yacht that night, Jun?”
“Don’t say my name,” Jun snapped icily. Sho had said it like nothing had changed, like he was bypassing all those years Jun had spent trying to patch himself up. If Sho wouldn’t call him by his name, Jun could keep his distance, could stay detached.
If Sho was hurt, he didn’t show it. “Matsumoto-san,” he amended. “My apologies. Old habits die hard.”
“What happened that night?” Jun asked, steering the conversation elsewhere.
Sho blinked, gaze dropping to the bonsai sitting on his far left. He didn’t comment on it. “Two or three weeks before the meeting took place, Satoshi-kun finally found him. My cousin. He was lurking around Minato because he didn’t believe I died. I asked Satoshi-kun to bring him to me so we could negotiate.”
“And you couldn’t have told me?” Jun thought they were in the plan together. Was he so wrong to have believed that?
“He would have tried to kill you if you knew,” Sho said. “I promised him everything under my name if he would lie low since it was too late to cancel the gathering taking place by the end of that month. He didn’t listen, as you witnessed.”
“You made the arrangements even before we all boarded that yacht,” Jun concluded. “You divided your assets and properties already.” He’d thought right.
“I couldn’t let him have everything,” Sho reasoned.
“But you let him go anyway.”
“He was working for Inohara, who knew nothing about his motives. You knew I had certain members of my family scattered in different clans so I could monitor them minimally. I had to let him go so as not to alert anyone that I was alive.”
Jun snorted. “Should’ve known you’d hate to be slandered despite you tricking everyone about your death.” Including me, he didn’t add.
Sho frowned at him, looking absolutely confused and bewildered. “Ju-Matsumoto-san, you made the gathering possible because I appeared dead. It wasn’t my slander I was preventing. I thought that part would at least be clear to you.”
“How can it?” Jun seethed, eyes narrowing. “I didn’t know a damn thing when I got on that boat! How was I supposed to know what you were doing?”
“You weren’t,” Sho replied, still in that infuriatingly calm tone that Jun didn’t want to hear anymore. “I had to go and I couldn’t let you know.”
“Why? Because you were afraid I wouldn’t understand?”
Sho smiled sadly and shook his head once. “I was trying to keep you safe. The less you knew, the better. Besides, you ceased your involvement with me a month before that gathering. Or do you not remember?”
Jun was fuming. “Don’t you dare pin this on me. I did what I had to do at that time. I had every intention of…” He trailed off, not wanting to admit it. He had wanted to pick up whatever he had with Sho. He took a deep breath before speaking again. “What happened after?”
“My cousin died,” Sho explained. “It was a struggle until the end. He realized I had no plans of giving him anything, but we were already too far from the city. He tried to shoot his way out, but he was outnumbered. No matter how many men he’d thought he’d converted to his side, that yacht was mine.”
Jun wondered if Sho had sustained any injuries from that time. There were no evident marks on his skin that wasn’t hidden by his yukata. Would Jun be able to tell? It had been years ago.
“And you chose to disappear just like that instead of coming back to see what you left us with?”
“I left you a house as a souvenir and I gave you the port,” Sho pointed out. “I handed to you the biggest source of income in this city, the one thing I knew you wanted from me.”
The one thing he wanted? Jun saw red. “I never wanted those gifts!” Jun shot back. “I didn’t want any of them at that time!”
Sho looked taken aback. “Then what did you want?! What else could you have wanted?” Sho was shaking his head now. “I gave you everything. Everything you wanted-respect, power, money, the port back in your family’s control. I stayed dead for years so I wouldn’t soil your name, affect your affairs. What more did you want?”
“You knew exactly what I wanted,” Jun murmured, voice betraying him. His chest felt constricted. “You said it yourself.”
I would have wanted to live in that house in the mountains for the rest of my days. Or somewhere else far away, from all this.
Sho drew back a little as he seemed to remember.
“Why did you come back?” Jun asked shakily, hating himself for being so open and so out of control. “Why are you back?”
“I wanted to see how you were doing,” Sho admitted quietly.
“You said they were all watching me when I asked you why you kept mum about surviving. There were eyes on me and you knew. You knew how I was doing because you were watching me too.”
“I wanted to see you up close,” Sho clarified. “I haven’t been able to do that for so long.”
“You’re late,” was all Jun could say.
A sad, resigned smile crossed Sho’s face. “I guess I simply wanted to hear that for myself.” He exhaled, then squared his shoulders. “Thank you for your time today, Matsumoto-san.” He gave a little bow, his voice all formal and composed. “I can promise that this will be the last time you’d have to entertain me. My sincerest apologies for the inconvenience I may have caused you.”
Sho stood and stepped aside to push the chair he used back into its original place, like nothing had disturbed it. He looked around his surroundings, like he was checking for something.
Jun realized this was Sho removing traces of his appearance. Erasing his presence, like he was never here. Was he going to vanish for good? With a proper goodbye this time?
Could Jun forgive himself if he let that happen again?
“Are you leaving?” Jun asked. He had to know this time.
Sho was looking at the tree on Jun’s right. “Yes. There’s no place for me here. I have nothing. I am nothing. I no longer belong in your world.” Sho smiled. “It was nice seeing you, to have met you again. I mean that. I hope you have a good night, Matsumoto-san.”
Sho moved to leave, and Jun was struck with how many times he saw Sho do that. Once, when there had been blood on his knuckles and his rage had felt like fire coursing through him. Twice, when Sho had bargained for his safety and left him to deal with everything Sho had put under his name.
If Sho walked out that door, Jun knew he would never see him again.
“Three hours,” Jun blurted out.
Sho halted in his steps and turned to him with a questioning look.
“Three hours,” Jun repeated, remembering that night he’d asked Sho to hide with him. Would Sho remember it as well? “Give me three hours.”
Sho’s eyebrows were knitted, but his eyes eventually cleared. “Where?” he asked, uncertain.
“I live in the same place,” Jun said, keeping his voice steady now. For several moments, there was nothing but silence between them.
Sho finally smiled, small but hopeful.
“Don’t be late.”
--
Jun arrived at his apartment with all the lights off except for the ones in the genkan, and he found Sho sitting at the step. He could’ve invited himself inside, but he had chosen otherwise.
“Ninomiya-san gave me a key on my way out,” Sho explained, holding out his palm. “He said I should return it to you.”
Jun took the key, careful not to brush their fingers. He toed off his shoes, offered Sho a pair of slippers to use without uttering a word, and he strode inside his place without checking if Sho followed him. He shrugged off his suit jacket and draped it over a chair, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows.
“What would it be?” Jun asked, keeping his back turned to Sho as he perused his bottles of liquor.
“Anything would do,” Sho answered.
Jun picked up the bottle of whiskey and started pouring in two glasses, focusing on the task to stop his thoughts. He’d invited Sho. And for what?
You know exactly what, he told himself. He picked up both glasses and turned around, breath stilling when he found himself face to face with Sho, who stood so close. He nearly dropped the glasses, but Sho was watching out for them and had his hands supporting the base of each.
Sho gently pried the glasses from his trembling hands and put them back on the counter.
When Sho spoke next, he was whispering. “I have nothing except for a name that isn’t even mine.” He waved his arm slightly, and Jun remembered what was hidden underneath that sleeve.
Was it still there?
Jun stepped closer, breathing in Sho’s space. “Do you know what you’re doing?”
“Do you?” Sho asked back.
There was nothing between them anymore, just the walls Jun had erected around himself, a barricade to keep his sentiments at bay and the yearning that never truly disappeared.
Jun grabbed the sides of Sho’s face and yanked Sho to him, covering Sho’s mouth with his own. It was everything he’d remembered-blistering heat that could incinerate him, turn him to cinders, but one he would never shy away from. He had missed this, denied himself of even thinking it might be possible to have it again. Sho opened his mouth at the first prod of Jun’s tongue and Jun swept in, wanting to taste everything, to find out if this Sho was the Sho he’d once known.
His Sho-kun, after all these years.
Somehow, despite Jun’s haze, he was able to guide them both to the bedroom, descending on top of Sho once the back of Sho’s knees hit the mattress. Jun kissed him quiet, kissed him repeatedly, taking it all for himself.
He has always been selfish.
Sho’s fingers fumbled for the buttons of his vest and he obliged, helping Sho along, maneuvering his shoulders to rid himself of his clothes. It took them some time but Jun kept himself distracted with Sho’s mouth, and soon he was able to discard his vest, tie, and dress shirt on the floor.
“You’ve filled out,” Sho muttered, sounding impressed and immensely pleased as his hands roamed. His touch trailed and lingered, fingers ghosting over Jun’s necklace. “You still wear it.”
Jun didn’t know what to say to that, so he settled for untying the knot of Sho’s obi and pushing Sho’s yukata off his shoulders. Doing so revealed more skin, and Jun pulled back from the tempting heat to run his hands over Sho’s exposed chest.
“Where did you get this?” he asked, finding a scar close to Sho’s sternum he couldn’t remember seeing before. It wasn’t long, but the raised skin had to have been a big gaping wound before.
“That night on the yacht,” Sho explained, planting light kisses on his jaw. “It was just a scratch.”
It wasn’t, and Jun knew it had to have been a slash Sho had undoubtedly bled from.
He shoved Sho flat on the bed and began kissing every scar he could find. The one from the bullet that had missed his liver. The one sitting near his breastbone. There was another in the space between his ribs, and Jun ran his lips over it, kissing, tasting, letting his tongue be familiar with the feel of rough skin.
Jun pulled away to grab what he needed from the nightstand, and when he came back, Sho was leaning on his elbows and eyeing him.
“Were there others?” Sho asked, and Jun detected the hint of jealousy in his tone.
“Yes, but none I can remember and none worth going back to,” Jun admitted. He’d had a couple of bedwarmers when it became evident that Sho had vanished from his life, each of them trying to convince him that they had been there for him. That they had been on Jun’s side out of affection and concern. It had worked for a while, but once the thrill of orgasm had faded into nothingness, Jun’s emptiness had remained, an unaddressed longing for someone who was no longer there.
No matter how hard he’d tried to pretend, none of them had made him feel as much as Sho had. None of them had that hold, that power over him.
He shoved the lube in Sho’s hands, kissing away his pout. “Were there others?” he asked against Sho’s lips.
“Some,” Sho answered, uncapping the lube and spreading it on his fingers. “But none were as memorable as you.” Sho pulled him close and kissed him, hard and insistent. “It’s been a while for us, so you have to remind me.”
“Do it,” Jun ordered, pulling back, panting against Sho’s ear. “I want to see you do it.”
Sho obliged, reaching between his legs. He didn’t look away from Jun when he inserted a finger in, biting his lip at the slight burn. Sho opened himself slowly, and Jun kept his hands on Sho’s thighs in order to see everything.
Jun encouraged him, stroking the insides of his thighs as he slowly worked himself open, another finger eventually joining the other. Sho’s hips were bucking, and Jun got off the bed to remove his slacks and free himself.
He returned and stretched across Sho’s body to find Sho’s mouth, taking all his quiet moans for himself. This is mine, he kept thinking, listening to the slick sounds of Sho fingering himself. This is all mine now.
He pulled back and replaced his mouth with his thumb, unable to look away as Sho sucked on it hungrily, using it to silence his groans. Jun reached for the condom and quickly rolled it onto himself, slicking himself sloppily in his haste. He lined up, and Sho reached for his nape, pulling him back down for another kiss.
Jun pushed in, his moan joining Sho’s, echoing together in the room. He could remember this. The warmth that threatened to put him on edge, the tightness that engulfed him. Lightning outside bathed the room in light for a moment, and a booming rumble of thunder echoed.
Jun thought of storm gods and began moving, slowly at first and gradually increasing his pace. He kept Sho’s legs apart by grabbing his thighs, and Sho had no choice but to buck back and take it, Jun’s thrusts getting forceful by the moment.
Sho made this choked groan and bit his lip, eyes squeezed shut. Jun let go of Sho’s legs to brace himself on his forearms, aligning his body with Sho’s and sending himself deeper. Sho clung onto his shoulders, meeting his movements halfway.
They were in sync, lightning occasionally illuminating the room, giving Jun a glimpse of Sho’s flushed face. He was real. He was here, and he was moving with Jun, taking everything Jun had to give. He was solid underneath Jun, not a phantasm that a lonely mind had been prone to dreaming.
Jun grasped Sho’s face to have Sho look at him.
“Say it,” he groaned, feeling Sho clench around him. “Say it, say it.” He wanted to hear it, now that he was in this moment, now that he had Sho in his arms again. “Say it.”
A sharp thrust and Sho arched, mouth parting in pleasure. “Jun,” Sho breathed, finally acquiescing. Jun wanted him to say it again so he sped up, the obscene sounds of him fucking Sho ringing in his ears along with the recurring thunder.
Sho kept groaning his name, and he let his fingers tell his story, his wants, his desires, his emotions-the things he couldn’t say. A tight press of his fingertips around Sho’s wrists yielded haphazard patterns; Sho was the one who easily bruised. Jun trailed his hands down, down, and clutched, desperate but unable to say it.
“I’m here,” Sho gasped, a reminder that pierced the silence. He had his fingers tangled with the chain of Jun’s necklace, pulling a little to grab Jun’s attention.
Was Jun’s desperation so felt?
Jun lifted his head from the crook of Sho’s neck, breath stilling.
Sho looked him in the eye. “I’m here with you,” Sho whispered, and it sounded like relief. Like he found his way back after wandering and being lost and aimless for so long.
“You said the same thing the last time,” Jun husked, lowering his head to hide how he felt. It had been on the same bed. Was this also the last time in a long time? Jun didn’t want to think of that, but the possibility was gnawing at him.
Sho’s nails embedded themselves on his biceps before Sho gave in to another loud moan. What he said next made something snap in Jun, the world falling into place.
“I never left.” Sho’s fingers traced across Jun’s brow. “I couldn’t.”
It made Jun burn for him, the ache so raw and neglected after years of silence, but never, never leaving. Sho had left a void with his absence, one that Jun had never been able to fill.
He should have known. Out of all those who loved him, Sho was his favorite. The only one he’d embraced and entertained.
The only one he’d waited for despite him telling himself otherwise.
Jun picked up pace, need taking over his body and overwhelming his senses. He tumbled over the edge not long after, burying himself deep and letting his mind blank out, the feeling of Sho with and around him the only thing he was aware of-Sho’s scent, Sho’s deep, ragged breaths next to his ear, Sho still clinging to him.
When Jun could get his limbs to move, he pressed kisses all over Sho’s face, down his neck, his chest, nipping here and there. He strayed lower, past Sho’s navel and took Sho’s cock into his mouth without warning, planting his fingers on Sho’s thighs to keep them from jolting.
Sho got one hand in Jun’s hair, spine curving. “Jun,” he warned, breath hitching.
Jun pushed in two of his fingers inside Sho, who was still slick and loose, and crooked them.
Sho’s grunt as he spilled himself inside Jun’s mouth was overshadowed by the roll of thunder, and it reminded Jun of the deity covering Sho’s back. It was still there, and Jun had caught glimpses of it back when he’d been stripping Sho bare.
He slid up and collapsed on the space beside Sho, their breaths almost synchronous with one another. Sho instinctively curled against him, cheek resting right on Jun’s clavicle.
“You have me,” Jun whispered, one arm roping around Sho’s shoulders to pull him closer. His heart rate remained erratic, and he wondered if Sho could feel it spike with his admission. “You’ve always had me.”
“I had a feeling,” Sho admitted, dropping a soft kiss to his collarbone, just above the chain of his necklace. “I wouldn’t be back if a part of me didn’t hope for it.”
“Where’s Ohno-san?” he asked, fingers already playing with Sho’s locks. It was Sho with him now. He hadn’t been able to touch Sho like this for so long, but it no longer mattered.
It was Sho and he was here, sorely missed yet still achingly familiar despite the years.
“Still working for me. Or at least, whatever work he can do for me.” Sho lifted his head a little. “Why?”
“I think Nino would want to see him again.” Jun never found out what Nino had with Ohno, but he knew he wasn’t the only one affected by Sho’s disappearance. “Aiba too,” he added as an afterthought.
Sho snorted. “What makes you think they haven’t seen each other already?”
It sounded like something Ohno would do, given his sleuth. Jun smiled, finding that some things hadn’t changed.
“May I stay?” Sho murmured after a while. It had lingered between them, the one question that had plagued their minds but neither had wanted to voice out, until Sho had done so.
Jun wouldn’t have him anywhere else, but he had to settle things first. “On one condition,” he said. He felt Sho shift slightly, now closely breathing against the crook of his neck. Jun pulled back a little to meet Sho’s eyes. “No more secrets. If there’s something you’re thinking of doing, tell me. If you have a plan, let me know. If you’re leaving again-”
“I’m not.” Sho shook his head. “Unless you want me to. I have nothing to hide from you anymore. I want to stay, if you’ll allow me.” Sho allowed himself a tiny smile. “If you’ll have me. If you’ll still have me.”
Jun took a deep breath, a crack of lightning giving him a glimpse of his surroundings, of the unguarded expression on Sho’s face. “Any other secrets you want to tell me?”
Sho chuckled against his skin, just as rumbling roar of thunder echoed around them. “I still can’t operate a toaster that is of a different model.”
Jun joined Sho in laughter, feeling something uncoil inside him, like hope blossoming in his heart. Maybe this time they could make it work. Maybe this was something Jun could finally have. There was no one else he loved as much as he did Sho.
And no one else who loved him as much as Sho did.
Together, perhaps they could figure things out.
Jun reached blindly in the darkness to find Sho’s wrist, and he raised it so he could see if his name was still etched on Sho’s skin like Sho had told him.
“You could’ve had this removed,” Jun said, staring at his own name. Lightning struck again, allowing Jun to see it more clearly. He ran his thumb over it. The skin was no longer reddened and the mark was not fresh, but it never faded, not even after three years.
“It wouldn’t have made any difference.”
Jun lifted the inside of Sho’s forearm to his lips, kissing the spot that Sho had marked especially for him.
“You’re happy that it’s still there,” Sho mused.
Outside, the storm continued its onslaught, turning their surroundings cold. But Jun didn’t move, wanted to stay exactly where he was.
“No,” Jun denied, hiding his smile and kissing the tattoo once more. “Not at all.”
--
On Jun’s desk, the tiny tree inside a jade pot gave way to its first flower, welcoming the arrival of spring.