The Painter [Chapter 11]
Title: The Painter
Chapters: 11/20(?)
Genre: Romance. Angst. AU. Fluff. Smut. Humour.
Warnings: Angst. Manxman kisses. Fluff.
Ratings: PG-13
Pairings: AoixUruha (main), ReitaxRuki (side)
Disclaimer: I only own my imagination ♪
Synopsis: A painter which convictions and hopes are destroyed by a single man. A single man who would change his life.
Comments: Might update it again very soon ~
He kicked his shoes in the entrance, abandoned his jacket on the couch and pushed a button that was flashing red on and off. The ritual of listening to his answering machine.
He opened his fridge, grabbed himself an apple juice and sighed when he recognized the voice of his agent. He had just met him about the book he was supposed to be writing and the man was harassing him again.
Finally, he wasn't writing it. He was determined to move on and it meant no trace of him anymore. And he had a whole month to start working on a new project, to submit a new story to his agent. They agreed for two months, but the boss needed his name quickly on the stalls of the japaneses bookstores. He was being read more and more and the strictness of his contract was starting to annoy him.
No freedom.
His agent was talking about studying some offers he received from smaller publishing firms, he'll earn less money of course, but he'd have more time to feed his inspiration, to write. Takanori stared at his answering machine. Or to simply find back his muse he was losing, little by little? Where was that passion now?
Lost, like had flied away the burning and warm sensation each time he was crossing his mind. And he couldn't understand why, why if the passion wasn't anymore, why was he still thinking about him? Why when an amazing man was here for him?
He smiled as Akira's voice was echoing in the living-room. He would be here a little before dinner because he had to check out Kouyou's last paintings after his work at the agency. He was going to bring dinner from a caterer so they wouldn't have to cook and could relax. The next thing he heard was his voice raising a little, upset, saying loudly if he could have his intimacy in his office at least. A voice argued back, the other had knocked on the door and didn't hear any reply, thinking Mr Suzuki wouldn't be here. And Akira retorted, angry, that he should put the documents on his desk, he'd check them out later. After a short silence, with a softer tone, Akira apologized, his assistant was such a pain sometimes.
"I miss you. See you soon. "
Takanori's smile didn't seem to fade away as he walked toward his bedroom where he opened his drawer looking for some comfortable clothes. He stopped, frowning slightly and laughed, his stare falling on the frame that was revealing a really pleasant sight.
Akira and him, kissing. He couldn't recall when the other had put it here. It was a brand new frame and a brand new picture. He felt a pang in his heart, moved by Akira's gesture.
- Kiss me.
Takanori pouted, suspicious.
- Why? Why do you ask?
The other moved closer to him on the couch, shutting off the laptop and putting it on the coffee table. Takanori sighed, annoyed.
- Hey let me work, you know Kohara is going to kill me if I don't give him the plan of the story.
- A simple kiss is going to take you so much time?
Something was fishy, Akira had never made any whim to have a kiss. He would just take it. Takanori knew though the other wouldn't give up without his kiss and his attempts to read his mind were vain. Besides, he would never refuse to kiss the man sat next to him. Never.
He huffed and pushed Akira's head against his, his palm resting on the back of his neck. Their lips met and it was disconcerting how everytime he was in a particular bad mood, how this mouth could make his entire body melt, how his mouth could make him forget why he was sad or angry. His other hand found its spot on Akira's thigh, stroking slowly while their tongues were moving with the same gentle rhythm. And before they pulled away, Akira's hand fell back on time to hide his cellphone, hoping that he aimed well.
The writer smiled and left a peck on the other's lips.
- Here, will you leave me alone now?
Akira stood up.
- I think I have what I want now.
He grinned and turned to leave for the kitchen, under Takanori's frown.
So the reason why Akira insisted that much for a kiss...He was having it right in front of him. And this picture wasn't lying.
Only one thing was coming out of it.
Passion.
That feeling in the pit of his stomach...Anxiety. He adjusted his black jacket, straightened his white tee-shirt, stopped in front of a glass that was reflecting his silhouette. He took a deep breath and started to walk again, a bit apprehensive. He was meeting Yuu Shiroyama again tonight. He had decided not to lie to himself, dumbly and stupidly, yes, the critic was attractive in every way. Of course he was afraid by his seductive tendencies and the dark haired had to realize that Kouyou wouldn't go further without any proves on the long run. And it was going to be hard...
He stopped when he recognized the man, leaning against the wall, hands hidden in his pockets, staring into space. His profile was even more attractive...He was wearing a simple black sweater. The night was fresh and Kouyou smiled, still watching the man from afar when their eyes met, as Yuu Shiroyama had just turned his head. The blond blushed under the moonlight and came closer, pleased by the warm expression the man was showing.
- You're waiting for a long time?
- No.
The painter was almost surprised by the short answer. They made few steps together, an awkward silence settling between them. Where was the talkative brunette?
- Are you fine?
- I am, why?
Kouyou shrugged.
- I don't know. Did you work today?
- Ah I did. I even had an argument with my editor.
The painter showed a gloomy expression. The critic seemed depressed, or bored, he couldn't tell. It wouldn't be a surprise though, maybe Yuu Shiroyama was growing tired of him already without having him in his bed.
Everybody grew tired of him. Everybody but his friends.
And the dark haired was debating with himself.
Not yet, how possible.
Yuu proposed them to eat, he was starving and Kouyou agreed. They stayed simple, ordering ramens and beers. Yuu noticed that Kouyou was moody and tried his best to make him laugh and succeeded, the painter's face was getting more and more smiling. On the other side, Kouyou saw that the critic seemed to be himself again.
Later they were walking in the deserted park, Yuu was listening attentively to the blond man.
- So you painted the Nightmare only a week before the exhibition?
Kouyou nodded.
- This painting wasn't planned.
- I bless it then, because without it, I'd have been really horrible.
He stopped smiling because the painter's face was showing sorrow. Kouyou leaned against the fence, showing his back to the beautiful view they had on the rest of the park.
- When you'll be ready, would you tell me what this piece means?
- I hope I could. I have to fix some things first.
The dark haired frowned, worried by the serious tone in the other's voice. What broke him that much?
- How?
Kouyou looked in the critic's eyes finally.
- By going away for a little while.
Even the answer was a mystery. It was awful, not being able to put words on the situation, on Kouyou, on them, on the future, on anything...And the weakness in his voice...Yuu put a hand on his arm, the suffering was easily readable on the other's face. And Kouyou knew that he couldn't hide them, the fears and the memories, and everything that tormented him. It was too late now, this man had something from him, his trust. He couldn't make the choice for him. He had to take him, wounded, or to break him, again. It was all in Yuu Shiroyama's hands now.
- We won't see each other during that time?
The painter shook his head, looking away.
- I'm going to miss you Kouyou.
They stared at each other. The blond wanted to cry suddenly for what he was doing, for the uncertainty of his tomorrows. How long?
The critic was now so close to him, his warm fingers still wrapped around his arm gently.
- I'm going to miss you like I did since that night on the roof top. I think about you a lot...It seems exagerated right? I don't understand anything.
Kouyou shivered at the softness of his voice, at his caressing hand, at the closeness of their bodies. He bent to whisper in the critic's ear:
- I hate you.
Yuu Shiroyama grinned, closed his eyes as the painter's breath was blowing on his earlobe.
- I hate you for poisoning me with your lips...
The critic lapped up his words with delight. The things he was feeling for him were mutual? He let go of his arm to put his hands on the thin waist. Kouyou didn't struggle, didn't move, he remained there, breathing against his ear, closing his eyes and trying to ignore his pouding heart.
The more he was around him, the more he would let his guard down. He hated him for troubling his peaceful world and those touches, it was making his skin to burn.
- I'll wait for you.
Kouyou had just to turn his head slightly to meet his deep gaze. He was feeling dizzy suddenly at the sight of his ebony eyes, his full mouth, his words.
Attracted instantly by each other, it was naturally that their lips met. It wasn't forced, it wasn't lust. It was something. Something Yuu Shiroyama denied a lot in his life. Something Kouyou Takashima avoided a lot in his life. But now it was there. Soft and wet, smooth and warm, sensuous and passionate. It had nothing to do with the rough kiss Kouyou received in the Chizuru. It was as surprising as their first kiss, near the bar...Hitting his body like a tidal wave, the world disappearing around him to be reduced to him only. He closed his eyes as their mouths parted, leaning against his temple, tickled by his sweet smell. He shyly held him and felt Yuu's arms tightening around him.
Someone's tenderness...He missed this a lot.
- I hope I'll be able to tell you everything.
Kouyou's whispering voice sent shivers down his spine. Yuu was giving him slow and smooth strokes on his back, feeling nothing but happiness. How did they manage to end up like this?
- I'll never judge you.
They were looking at each other again, Yuu's mouth imitating Kouyou's smile. The blond closed his eyes when warm hands framed his face, their lips connecting again. A low whine was choked in their kiss when Yuu's tongue stroked his, his breath quickening. It was too good. And somewhere in his mind, Kouyou was thinking that he was the Yuu he wanted. Not the stinky man he met at first.
Understanding, time, sweetness. It was what he needed.
- I'm already dying to see you again.
Kouyou's plump lips showed him a smile. Yuu wanted to kiss him again and again, still holding his face. No lies anymore, no secrets, no manipulation. This painter had a part of him, a part exacerbated by his frailty. He wanted to make him smile and laugh, to enlighten his dark world, to give him protection, affection, maybe love. Kouyou was kissing him now and Yuu abandoned every thoughts to focus on him.
It was dangerous though, they were in the same state, their desire increasing with each kiss and touch. But Kouyou didn't want to waste everything, the critic had to know his past before wanting anything else from him.
- I feel good here.
The dark haired smiled, Kouyou's nose was rubbing softly against his neck, replaced by his moist mouth.
He shivered in the dark park.
- I want to make you feel like this all the time.
The painter smiled.
- It's a lot already.
Since when someone had held him this way? Too long for him to remember. Of course, Kouyou had used people, had been used by them for the adrenaline of lust but...Since when someone had poured so much affection in this simple gesture? Holding him?
- I really want to kiss you again.
The painter laughed and stole Yuu's lips, giving him what he wanted, what they both wanted.
- I'm not used to you asking for it.
The critic looked away, grinning.
- Like I'm not used to you granting it.
Kouyou chuckled, his hands stroking slowly Yuu's chest.
- I guess we'll have to do with those changes.
The dark haired nodded, kissed Kouyou's forehead.
- It won't be hard. Just trust me...
Their eyes met and the painter believed him. He smiled and after countless kisses and whispers, he found the force to resist his desires. All they wanted was to stay here with him, to taste his lips again and again, to hear his voice, to feel him. It was harder now they moved on another stage in their relation, Kouyou had to leave to try to bury his past. He couldn't think about this present with Yuu because it would prevent him to cure himself. No, he couldn't go ahead without fixing himself first.
Yes he was hurt, yes he had suffered but his grandfather told him once that sometimes, we experience pain first to finally have happiness.
"I met happiness before sadness. That's why I accept to live without your grandmother."
Was Yuu his happiness?
He smiled in the languid kiss the dark haired was giving him.
- I should go home now. Thank you for tonight.
Yuu shook his head.
- Hm, thank you. And don't forget, I'll wait...I miss you already.
A last slow kiss. His smile. Yuu loved his smile.
- Take care Yuu.
Kouyou showed his back, something in the critic's chest went tight. He had never called him by his name, never, even when he insisted. He was always avoiding to say it and tonight...
Yuu was torn, he didn't want to keep him from leaving already. But it was just for...
Kouyou grinned when he heard his steps behind him and when he saw Yuu facing him again. He welcomed another kiss gladly, losing his mind a little more. The dark haired bite his lower lip gently and whispered against his mouth:
- You said my name.
The painter looked away.
- Another thing we'll have to get used to.
Yuu laughed and gave Kouyou a last kiss before walking away in the wrong direction. He noticed only when the darkness was getting thicker and thicker. He kept walking though to calm down his heart, his body, his mind. Kouyou was all over them.
The painter walked home smiling, recalling everything he could, every kiss, every word, every stroke. A mass of moments that were now memories. He was both sad and happy. Tonight had been a consolation before his leaving, before facing his painful past. That was how he realized something.
He was falling in love with Yuu Shiroyama, it was undeniable.
--------------------
I think my heart is a puddle, doesn't yours too? haha. Sorry for the slow update, I've started to work so it's hard to write when I'm tired but it's okay, I'll try to be more effective. Day off so I could focus properly on this chapter. Well, I hope you enjoyed it. Go stay in the freezer for a while if you melted hahahaha.
EDIT: Forgot to say, that Kohara during the little flashback is Shou from Alice Nine haha. I've always pictured Ruki's agent in this story with Shou's face.
Chapters: 11/20(?)
Genre: Romance. Angst. AU. Fluff. Smut. Humour.
Warnings: Angst. Manxman kisses. Fluff.
Ratings: PG-13
Pairings: AoixUruha (main), ReitaxRuki (side)
Disclaimer: I only own my imagination ♪
Synopsis: A painter which convictions and hopes are destroyed by a single man. A single man who would change his life.
Comments: Might update it again very soon ~
He kicked his shoes in the entrance, abandoned his jacket on the couch and pushed a button that was flashing red on and off. The ritual of listening to his answering machine.
He opened his fridge, grabbed himself an apple juice and sighed when he recognized the voice of his agent. He had just met him about the book he was supposed to be writing and the man was harassing him again.
Finally, he wasn't writing it. He was determined to move on and it meant no trace of him anymore. And he had a whole month to start working on a new project, to submit a new story to his agent. They agreed for two months, but the boss needed his name quickly on the stalls of the japaneses bookstores. He was being read more and more and the strictness of his contract was starting to annoy him.
No freedom.
His agent was talking about studying some offers he received from smaller publishing firms, he'll earn less money of course, but he'd have more time to feed his inspiration, to write. Takanori stared at his answering machine. Or to simply find back his muse he was losing, little by little? Where was that passion now?
Lost, like had flied away the burning and warm sensation each time he was crossing his mind. And he couldn't understand why, why if the passion wasn't anymore, why was he still thinking about him? Why when an amazing man was here for him?
He smiled as Akira's voice was echoing in the living-room. He would be here a little before dinner because he had to check out Kouyou's last paintings after his work at the agency. He was going to bring dinner from a caterer so they wouldn't have to cook and could relax. The next thing he heard was his voice raising a little, upset, saying loudly if he could have his intimacy in his office at least. A voice argued back, the other had knocked on the door and didn't hear any reply, thinking Mr Suzuki wouldn't be here. And Akira retorted, angry, that he should put the documents on his desk, he'd check them out later. After a short silence, with a softer tone, Akira apologized, his assistant was such a pain sometimes.
"I miss you. See you soon. "
Takanori's smile didn't seem to fade away as he walked toward his bedroom where he opened his drawer looking for some comfortable clothes. He stopped, frowning slightly and laughed, his stare falling on the frame that was revealing a really pleasant sight.
Akira and him, kissing. He couldn't recall when the other had put it here. It was a brand new frame and a brand new picture. He felt a pang in his heart, moved by Akira's gesture.
- Kiss me.
Takanori pouted, suspicious.
- Why? Why do you ask?
The other moved closer to him on the couch, shutting off the laptop and putting it on the coffee table. Takanori sighed, annoyed.
- Hey let me work, you know Kohara is going to kill me if I don't give him the plan of the story.
- A simple kiss is going to take you so much time?
Something was fishy, Akira had never made any whim to have a kiss. He would just take it. Takanori knew though the other wouldn't give up without his kiss and his attempts to read his mind were vain. Besides, he would never refuse to kiss the man sat next to him. Never.
He huffed and pushed Akira's head against his, his palm resting on the back of his neck. Their lips met and it was disconcerting how everytime he was in a particular bad mood, how this mouth could make his entire body melt, how his mouth could make him forget why he was sad or angry. His other hand found its spot on Akira's thigh, stroking slowly while their tongues were moving with the same gentle rhythm. And before they pulled away, Akira's hand fell back on time to hide his cellphone, hoping that he aimed well.
The writer smiled and left a peck on the other's lips.
- Here, will you leave me alone now?
Akira stood up.
- I think I have what I want now.
He grinned and turned to leave for the kitchen, under Takanori's frown.
So the reason why Akira insisted that much for a kiss...He was having it right in front of him. And this picture wasn't lying.
Only one thing was coming out of it.
Passion.
That feeling in the pit of his stomach...Anxiety. He adjusted his black jacket, straightened his white tee-shirt, stopped in front of a glass that was reflecting his silhouette. He took a deep breath and started to walk again, a bit apprehensive. He was meeting Yuu Shiroyama again tonight. He had decided not to lie to himself, dumbly and stupidly, yes, the critic was attractive in every way. Of course he was afraid by his seductive tendencies and the dark haired had to realize that Kouyou wouldn't go further without any proves on the long run. And it was going to be hard...
He stopped when he recognized the man, leaning against the wall, hands hidden in his pockets, staring into space. His profile was even more attractive...He was wearing a simple black sweater. The night was fresh and Kouyou smiled, still watching the man from afar when their eyes met, as Yuu Shiroyama had just turned his head. The blond blushed under the moonlight and came closer, pleased by the warm expression the man was showing.
- You're waiting for a long time?
- No.
The painter was almost surprised by the short answer. They made few steps together, an awkward silence settling between them. Where was the talkative brunette?
- Are you fine?
- I am, why?
Kouyou shrugged.
- I don't know. Did you work today?
- Ah I did. I even had an argument with my editor.
The painter showed a gloomy expression. The critic seemed depressed, or bored, he couldn't tell. It wouldn't be a surprise though, maybe Yuu Shiroyama was growing tired of him already without having him in his bed.
Everybody grew tired of him. Everybody but his friends.
And the dark haired was debating with himself.
Not yet, how possible.
Yuu proposed them to eat, he was starving and Kouyou agreed. They stayed simple, ordering ramens and beers. Yuu noticed that Kouyou was moody and tried his best to make him laugh and succeeded, the painter's face was getting more and more smiling. On the other side, Kouyou saw that the critic seemed to be himself again.
Later they were walking in the deserted park, Yuu was listening attentively to the blond man.
- So you painted the Nightmare only a week before the exhibition?
Kouyou nodded.
- This painting wasn't planned.
- I bless it then, because without it, I'd have been really horrible.
He stopped smiling because the painter's face was showing sorrow. Kouyou leaned against the fence, showing his back to the beautiful view they had on the rest of the park.
- When you'll be ready, would you tell me what this piece means?
- I hope I could. I have to fix some things first.
The dark haired frowned, worried by the serious tone in the other's voice. What broke him that much?
- How?
Kouyou looked in the critic's eyes finally.
- By going away for a little while.
Even the answer was a mystery. It was awful, not being able to put words on the situation, on Kouyou, on them, on the future, on anything...And the weakness in his voice...Yuu put a hand on his arm, the suffering was easily readable on the other's face. And Kouyou knew that he couldn't hide them, the fears and the memories, and everything that tormented him. It was too late now, this man had something from him, his trust. He couldn't make the choice for him. He had to take him, wounded, or to break him, again. It was all in Yuu Shiroyama's hands now.
- We won't see each other during that time?
The painter shook his head, looking away.
- I'm going to miss you Kouyou.
They stared at each other. The blond wanted to cry suddenly for what he was doing, for the uncertainty of his tomorrows. How long?
The critic was now so close to him, his warm fingers still wrapped around his arm gently.
- I'm going to miss you like I did since that night on the roof top. I think about you a lot...It seems exagerated right? I don't understand anything.
Kouyou shivered at the softness of his voice, at his caressing hand, at the closeness of their bodies. He bent to whisper in the critic's ear:
- I hate you.
Yuu Shiroyama grinned, closed his eyes as the painter's breath was blowing on his earlobe.
- I hate you for poisoning me with your lips...
The critic lapped up his words with delight. The things he was feeling for him were mutual? He let go of his arm to put his hands on the thin waist. Kouyou didn't struggle, didn't move, he remained there, breathing against his ear, closing his eyes and trying to ignore his pouding heart.
The more he was around him, the more he would let his guard down. He hated him for troubling his peaceful world and those touches, it was making his skin to burn.
- I'll wait for you.
Kouyou had just to turn his head slightly to meet his deep gaze. He was feeling dizzy suddenly at the sight of his ebony eyes, his full mouth, his words.
Attracted instantly by each other, it was naturally that their lips met. It wasn't forced, it wasn't lust. It was something. Something Yuu Shiroyama denied a lot in his life. Something Kouyou Takashima avoided a lot in his life. But now it was there. Soft and wet, smooth and warm, sensuous and passionate. It had nothing to do with the rough kiss Kouyou received in the Chizuru. It was as surprising as their first kiss, near the bar...Hitting his body like a tidal wave, the world disappearing around him to be reduced to him only. He closed his eyes as their mouths parted, leaning against his temple, tickled by his sweet smell. He shyly held him and felt Yuu's arms tightening around him.
Someone's tenderness...He missed this a lot.
- I hope I'll be able to tell you everything.
Kouyou's whispering voice sent shivers down his spine. Yuu was giving him slow and smooth strokes on his back, feeling nothing but happiness. How did they manage to end up like this?
- I'll never judge you.
They were looking at each other again, Yuu's mouth imitating Kouyou's smile. The blond closed his eyes when warm hands framed his face, their lips connecting again. A low whine was choked in their kiss when Yuu's tongue stroked his, his breath quickening. It was too good. And somewhere in his mind, Kouyou was thinking that he was the Yuu he wanted. Not the stinky man he met at first.
Understanding, time, sweetness. It was what he needed.
- I'm already dying to see you again.
Kouyou's plump lips showed him a smile. Yuu wanted to kiss him again and again, still holding his face. No lies anymore, no secrets, no manipulation. This painter had a part of him, a part exacerbated by his frailty. He wanted to make him smile and laugh, to enlighten his dark world, to give him protection, affection, maybe love. Kouyou was kissing him now and Yuu abandoned every thoughts to focus on him.
It was dangerous though, they were in the same state, their desire increasing with each kiss and touch. But Kouyou didn't want to waste everything, the critic had to know his past before wanting anything else from him.
- I feel good here.
The dark haired smiled, Kouyou's nose was rubbing softly against his neck, replaced by his moist mouth.
He shivered in the dark park.
- I want to make you feel like this all the time.
The painter smiled.
- It's a lot already.
Since when someone had held him this way? Too long for him to remember. Of course, Kouyou had used people, had been used by them for the adrenaline of lust but...Since when someone had poured so much affection in this simple gesture? Holding him?
- I really want to kiss you again.
The painter laughed and stole Yuu's lips, giving him what he wanted, what they both wanted.
- I'm not used to you asking for it.
The critic looked away, grinning.
- Like I'm not used to you granting it.
Kouyou chuckled, his hands stroking slowly Yuu's chest.
- I guess we'll have to do with those changes.
The dark haired nodded, kissed Kouyou's forehead.
- It won't be hard. Just trust me...
Their eyes met and the painter believed him. He smiled and after countless kisses and whispers, he found the force to resist his desires. All they wanted was to stay here with him, to taste his lips again and again, to hear his voice, to feel him. It was harder now they moved on another stage in their relation, Kouyou had to leave to try to bury his past. He couldn't think about this present with Yuu because it would prevent him to cure himself. No, he couldn't go ahead without fixing himself first.
Yes he was hurt, yes he had suffered but his grandfather told him once that sometimes, we experience pain first to finally have happiness.
"I met happiness before sadness. That's why I accept to live without your grandmother."
Was Yuu his happiness?
He smiled in the languid kiss the dark haired was giving him.
- I should go home now. Thank you for tonight.
Yuu shook his head.
- Hm, thank you. And don't forget, I'll wait...I miss you already.
A last slow kiss. His smile. Yuu loved his smile.
- Take care Yuu.
Kouyou showed his back, something in the critic's chest went tight. He had never called him by his name, never, even when he insisted. He was always avoiding to say it and tonight...
Yuu was torn, he didn't want to keep him from leaving already. But it was just for...
Kouyou grinned when he heard his steps behind him and when he saw Yuu facing him again. He welcomed another kiss gladly, losing his mind a little more. The dark haired bite his lower lip gently and whispered against his mouth:
- You said my name.
The painter looked away.
- Another thing we'll have to get used to.
Yuu laughed and gave Kouyou a last kiss before walking away in the wrong direction. He noticed only when the darkness was getting thicker and thicker. He kept walking though to calm down his heart, his body, his mind. Kouyou was all over them.
The painter walked home smiling, recalling everything he could, every kiss, every word, every stroke. A mass of moments that were now memories. He was both sad and happy. Tonight had been a consolation before his leaving, before facing his painful past. That was how he realized something.
He was falling in love with Yuu Shiroyama, it was undeniable.
--------------------
I think my heart is a puddle, doesn't yours too? haha. Sorry for the slow update, I've started to work so it's hard to write when I'm tired but it's okay, I'll try to be more effective. Day off so I could focus properly on this chapter. Well, I hope you enjoyed it. Go stay in the freezer for a while if you melted hahahaha.
EDIT: Forgot to say, that Kohara during the little flashback is Shou from Alice Nine haha. I've always pictured Ruki's agent in this story with Shou's face.