D'espairsRay-Oneshot-Boarder-Part A
Title: Boarder
Chapters: Oneshot [part A]
Author: inuoloz [Oloz-san]
Genre: Angst, Drama
Warnings: Sad, Yaoi, Smut, Creative English
Rating: PG-13 for Part, R for whole.
Pairings: Atsushi[fictional] X Karyu[Yoshitaka], Tsukasa[Kenji] X Karyu.
Disclaimer: Story is mine, people used are not. No copyright infringement intended.
Synopsis: The 1900s were a simple time. Simple life, simple rules, but love...still was not a simple emotion.
A/N: Comments are love and constructive criticism is adored!
Word Count: 2,304
We needed the money.
It all started out because we just needed the money.
This was the first time; we’ve lived here for nearly 3 years, this manor in the newly constructed suburb just outside of Boston, but this was the first time we needed money. I worked at an automobile factory; putting the tires on cars occasionally but most of the time teaching the new hands their way around the workroom. We had a lot of new hands lately. Especially Irishmen, Germans, and Russians. Perhaps that’s what brought the idea. His name was Zinovii, born and raised in a small Ukrainian city called Konotop. The21 year old, honey-brown haired boy left his single mother and 2 sisters to make a living in the open US. I recall asking him what brought him over. Me being a second generation Japanese immigrant - a nisei - knew not of the lifestyle difference that separated America from other nations. “To make living in free market,” he said with a heavy accented tongue. I asked him how exactly; he was working in a car factory just securing the side windows after all; earning little more than a dollar a day. “I not just work here. Stay at other house, with other family, work there too.”
That’s when I realized he was a boarder.
So I talk to my boyfriend - he and I had been in a relationship for nearly a year. “We need money,” I say. He stares at me, pulling down the newspaper just enough for me to see the scrutinizing glare in his thinned, dark eyes. “I-the plant. We’re losing money. Ford keeps making more and better models. Our steel company that made us good deals was bought out by this railroad businessman and he refuses to lower the price. People are being cut like crazy, manager lowers the prices and people leave on their own. And…and these immigrants, they just won’t stop coming in. Taking jobs that my friends once held for 4 years.”
He just looks at me, sighs, and lowers the paper; crushing the thick article with tense hands. “So,” he says, “what’s your idea?” My gaze travels down at the half empty tea cup. “I-I could take on another job.”
“No. Not ever, that’s completely out of the question.”
Recovering from the harsh edict I continue, “Or we could have an immigrant stay with us. A boarder. You know, work for us, give us some profit…”
He says nothing, dark hair complementing the glistening look in his dark eyes, though nothing was in them, no emotion. He fondles his mouth, sucking on the lower lip. “Atsu -” I mutter as his silence lingers. He finally snaps from his trance. Shaking his head, he stares at me right in the eye “Okay, but how are you going to do this?”
My sealed lips say nothing. I finger my shoulder-length brown hair, pushing aside the bangs only to have them re-cover my eye; a habit I did while in thought.
“See. It’s a stupid idea. You haven’t even though it through. We’re doing just fine as we are now.” A pause. “And why do you want extra money anyway? What are you going to spend it on? There’s nothing here. In the suburbs or in the city.” With that he lifts from his seat, digs into the left pocket of his worn, baggy jeans and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. “So that’s where our money’s going,” I mutter as he lights one in his mouth. Letting out an exhale of supposed ecstasy he turns toward me, “I need this though. What you need…I don’t even know.” I shake my head and fondle with my bangs again. As he walks out of the kitchen, I begin to take a sip of my tea.
We needed the money. That’s all.
A month later, he arrived at 4:00 in the afternoon; luckily I got released from work early so I was able to make the unusual arrival time. The train’s engine finally came to a halt, steam emitting from every opening in the steel contraption. It made me wonder, was this one of that businessman’s train cars? No time to dwell, though, the conductor opened the hatch and out came people of all sorts; apparently our district was a popular one. I saw three Germans, a Hispanic, and several American ‘natives’ step from the cabin. I continued to wait, none of these people being my sought. A few more seconds passed and just when I thought the train was about to roar to a start, a lone passenger stepped from the entryway. Dark brown hair, defined jaw line, moderate build masked by somewhat baggy, light brown pants, and short-sleeved white T-shirt showing off lean, well-toned arms. Tanned-hide covered suitcase in one hand, and a large, rather crudely made black jacket in the other. His dark eyes scanned the station, confused and slightly terrified. This was my guy. “Hello, sir,” I greeted, tipping my hat to him. I wore a black homburg hat along with an equally dark frock coat; the article nearly masking the white-collared shirt and silver tie. Neatly pressed black trousers and white, narrowed shoes complementing the light band of fabric on the hat, completed the look. He stares at me; first observing my face then settling on my dress. Suddenly he recoils - a small gasp escaping his lips - then bows his head in a greeting I knew far too well. He was Japanese. Taking the cue, I abandoned my accented English, and switched to native tongue. “I am Yoshitaka Matsumura, your employer.”
A smile of relief broke across his lips.
“I am Kenji Oota. Sorry I am late.” He dips again.
“Late? No not at all, actually a lot sooner than I expected.” His smile only widened, eyes now traveling elsewhere. The station, the people, the train, the distant buildings, vast horizon. The glint in his pupils; like he was seeing the world for the first time. “Alright, come now. I have to show you your accommodations,” at last I say, reaching for his suitcase. Kenji backs away, smile falling to a well-intentioned grin, “I can carry it. It’s fine.”
I respond with silent acquiesce. Leading him forward we started the walk home, hopefully making it in time before Atsushi returned from work.
“And this is the kitchen, straight down the middle hallway is the bath, to the right of that is your room, and upstairs is ours. Understand?”
Kenji dipped his head, cheerful expression now gone. Thin dark brows furrowed in all seriousness. “All we want for you to do is do the laundry, cook, clean a bit, and of course get a job in the city.” I loosen my stiff aura with the removal of my tie, hat, and jacket. “Now, go straight to your room and unpack. I’ll show you the rest of town.”
He was quiet for the most part. Quiet, timid, reserved. You know, that attitude of ‘speak when spoken to’. It made for some awkward moments, but it seems the strategy worked well. For when Atsushi came home, he barley even notice Kenji. It wasn’t until he saw that the main room was spotless that something was up. “Yoshitaka! Wha -“ Atsu froze, Kenji standing ‘at attention’ in front of him. “I’m sorry,” he says. “W-was I not supposed to clean there?” Atsu said nothing to him, gaze going over his frame as if he were a mere ornament on the wall. “Yoshitaka!” Hopping down the steps my heart nearly stopped. The sight of Atsushi seeing Kenji threw me off more than I’d expected, though I knew the event was inevitable. “Atsu-san how was work?” I ask, forcing a smile. Atsu looks at me hard, then gaze shifts over to Kenji. “How did you get here?” he says in Japanese. Kenji looks at me from the corner of his eye and lightly dips his head. “Mr. Yoshitaka advertised a nice place to stay and cheap rent. Also easy money and a start at an urban job.” Atsushi just stares at me, dark pupils now deep black. “I said it was stupid. Pointless. Why did you go through with it?”
I cringe, “We needed the money - ”
“Again! No we don’t. We never did!” A pause, tense hand running through his hair. “My job’s manager is doing just fine. I now even have an increased wage since I’ve been working there for 3 years.”
Silence.
“We don’t need any money…” Before I could retaliate, my lover made his way up the stairs; dropping the situation, and leaving Kenji’s fate in my hands. That answer was obvious though. I’d keep him. He needed the job, and no matter how much Atsu retorted we could always use some extra money.
“Okay, this should be it.” Steady hands tracing the rims of my eye with black liner. Another careful movement over the lips, saturating them with a darker hue. “So how do I look?” I say turning away from the mirror. Black eye shadow started bold near the upper eyelid then faded upwards to blend with my already pale face. Dark eye liner rimmed the borders of my lids, emphasizing black pupils. Thinned eye brows, shoulder-length hair left in its semi-wavy natural state, and petal-like lips bleached a color that accented my eyes, I found the make-up was minimum yet effective. Atsu stared. Hands fumbling with the last knot in his tie. Black trousers, white undershirt topped with a black waste coat. Minimum yet effective. “Good. Should be enough to get by.” I smiled slightly and returned to the mirror. Atsu had a formal meeting tonight. His manager discussing business with an opposing competitor. Perhaps - I assumed - that Atsu’s company was to be buying out the other, and this whole ‘formal meeting’ crap was to place an appealing mask on the ugly beast of greed. The problem was that the company’s managers’ of both sides knew that Atsu had a lover, but they did not know that the lover was male. So I dressed up as best as I could to impersonate a female figure; soft dress fitting in all the right places, light train tapering the floor, and semi-embroidered hat tilted slightly to the side. “Alright, ready to go?” he asks me. I say nothing but dip my head and grin. Right as the door opened, I gasp in remembrance. “Ah, Kenji!” I call. Obediently the dark haired boarder made his way to the entrance. He stops; a bit off balance. Eyes widen and eyebrows arch ever so slightly. His very surprise went unnoticed to Atsu - who was now halfway out the door smoking his last cigarette - and nearly to me. “I want you to just know that we won’t need dinner tonight. Just take it easy.” Resuming serious posture, he bows. Confirming with a brief nod, Atsushi and I head out the door.
“You okay?” I question lightly, making sure that my voice is softer than normal else others should find me out. Trotting along in a horse-drawn street car, we made our way to the banquet hall across town. Atsushi simply diverted his gaze out the window. My lips parted to speak, but couldn’t think of anything else. Instead I entangled my arm in the nook of his, feeling his body stiffen beneath my touch. A few minutes passed galloping through the night air. Listening to others’ conversations. Hearing the murmurs, whispers, and occasional gasp of surprise. Everyone joined together in some vulgar chorus. Everyone except Atsushi. Again I questioned his muteness, and again he responded with muteness. Finally giving up, I turn to the front, noticing the upcoming glow of the banquet hall. Short screech of brakes and the sliding of wheels on rock accompanied our stop at its entrance. Immediately Atsushi rose, rather unintentionally taking me up with him. Bumping our way past the dangling skirts of lofty women and the resting caps and canes of men, Atsu moved rather rigidly, practically dragging me along. Outside - as the cold night air licked exposed flesh and turned heated breaths into fleeting clouds - he stopped. The street car left with a click from the driver, clopping down the stone road. “Atsu…” I mutter, withdrawing my arm from his. For the first time his head turns toward my voice; though the movement was minute. Lips part to speak, then shut to reconsider. “Atsu,” I inquire again, “We should really go inside. We may perhaps be late and -”
“Go home.”
“…what?”
“Go back home,” he says, head still not fully turned.
I hesitate, smile of nervousness edging across my face, “Wh-what do you mean? Atsu?”
“You heard me. I said go back home. It’s okay.”
“But Atsushi. The meeting, what’re you to do?”
“It’s not about the meeting. It’s about you.” A pause. “What if you’re found out? What if you mess-up and they realize you’re actually a man?”
Silence. My gaze diverts down. Eyes shift from left to right in thought.
Finally, “What are you meaning to say? That…that I embarrass you?”
Nothing.
“That you’re ashamed to be with me if everyone knows what I am?”
Nothing.
“Atsu?”
“Just don’t follow me in.”
“But Atsu…”
“I said…I said don’t come. Just go home.” Head turned forward, body rigid with the ultimatum uttered. Night air picking at his skin and mine, though it seemed to come more sensitively to me. I stayed. Watched his body become engulfed with the inner light of the hall. Watched it pause, waver, then finally disappear. I stayed. Just standing there. And for some reason, for some very strange rationale, my eyes began to water. “Atsu,” I say, lips bitten back, brows furrowed. Hands clasped in front my glistening pupils gaze upon the lights one last time. I sigh and turn, descending down to home.
----
A/N: Yeah I used their real names in this one. Atsushi means 'industrial/hard-working' by the way.
Chapters: Oneshot [part A]
Author: inuoloz [Oloz-san]
Genre: Angst, Drama
Warnings: Sad, Yaoi, Smut, Creative English
Rating: PG-13 for Part, R for whole.
Pairings: Atsushi[fictional] X Karyu[Yoshitaka], Tsukasa[Kenji] X Karyu.
Disclaimer: Story is mine, people used are not. No copyright infringement intended.
Synopsis: The 1900s were a simple time. Simple life, simple rules, but love...still was not a simple emotion.
A/N: Comments are love and constructive criticism is adored!
Word Count: 2,304
We needed the money.
It all started out because we just needed the money.
This was the first time; we’ve lived here for nearly 3 years, this manor in the newly constructed suburb just outside of Boston, but this was the first time we needed money. I worked at an automobile factory; putting the tires on cars occasionally but most of the time teaching the new hands their way around the workroom. We had a lot of new hands lately. Especially Irishmen, Germans, and Russians. Perhaps that’s what brought the idea. His name was Zinovii, born and raised in a small Ukrainian city called Konotop. The21 year old, honey-brown haired boy left his single mother and 2 sisters to make a living in the open US. I recall asking him what brought him over. Me being a second generation Japanese immigrant - a nisei - knew not of the lifestyle difference that separated America from other nations. “To make living in free market,” he said with a heavy accented tongue. I asked him how exactly; he was working in a car factory just securing the side windows after all; earning little more than a dollar a day. “I not just work here. Stay at other house, with other family, work there too.”
That’s when I realized he was a boarder.
So I talk to my boyfriend - he and I had been in a relationship for nearly a year. “We need money,” I say. He stares at me, pulling down the newspaper just enough for me to see the scrutinizing glare in his thinned, dark eyes. “I-the plant. We’re losing money. Ford keeps making more and better models. Our steel company that made us good deals was bought out by this railroad businessman and he refuses to lower the price. People are being cut like crazy, manager lowers the prices and people leave on their own. And…and these immigrants, they just won’t stop coming in. Taking jobs that my friends once held for 4 years.”
He just looks at me, sighs, and lowers the paper; crushing the thick article with tense hands. “So,” he says, “what’s your idea?” My gaze travels down at the half empty tea cup. “I-I could take on another job.”
“No. Not ever, that’s completely out of the question.”
Recovering from the harsh edict I continue, “Or we could have an immigrant stay with us. A boarder. You know, work for us, give us some profit…”
He says nothing, dark hair complementing the glistening look in his dark eyes, though nothing was in them, no emotion. He fondles his mouth, sucking on the lower lip. “Atsu -” I mutter as his silence lingers. He finally snaps from his trance. Shaking his head, he stares at me right in the eye “Okay, but how are you going to do this?”
My sealed lips say nothing. I finger my shoulder-length brown hair, pushing aside the bangs only to have them re-cover my eye; a habit I did while in thought.
“See. It’s a stupid idea. You haven’t even though it through. We’re doing just fine as we are now.” A pause. “And why do you want extra money anyway? What are you going to spend it on? There’s nothing here. In the suburbs or in the city.” With that he lifts from his seat, digs into the left pocket of his worn, baggy jeans and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. “So that’s where our money’s going,” I mutter as he lights one in his mouth. Letting out an exhale of supposed ecstasy he turns toward me, “I need this though. What you need…I don’t even know.” I shake my head and fondle with my bangs again. As he walks out of the kitchen, I begin to take a sip of my tea.
We needed the money. That’s all.
A month later, he arrived at 4:00 in the afternoon; luckily I got released from work early so I was able to make the unusual arrival time. The train’s engine finally came to a halt, steam emitting from every opening in the steel contraption. It made me wonder, was this one of that businessman’s train cars? No time to dwell, though, the conductor opened the hatch and out came people of all sorts; apparently our district was a popular one. I saw three Germans, a Hispanic, and several American ‘natives’ step from the cabin. I continued to wait, none of these people being my sought. A few more seconds passed and just when I thought the train was about to roar to a start, a lone passenger stepped from the entryway. Dark brown hair, defined jaw line, moderate build masked by somewhat baggy, light brown pants, and short-sleeved white T-shirt showing off lean, well-toned arms. Tanned-hide covered suitcase in one hand, and a large, rather crudely made black jacket in the other. His dark eyes scanned the station, confused and slightly terrified. This was my guy. “Hello, sir,” I greeted, tipping my hat to him. I wore a black homburg hat along with an equally dark frock coat; the article nearly masking the white-collared shirt and silver tie. Neatly pressed black trousers and white, narrowed shoes complementing the light band of fabric on the hat, completed the look. He stares at me; first observing my face then settling on my dress. Suddenly he recoils - a small gasp escaping his lips - then bows his head in a greeting I knew far too well. He was Japanese. Taking the cue, I abandoned my accented English, and switched to native tongue. “I am Yoshitaka Matsumura, your employer.”
A smile of relief broke across his lips.
“I am Kenji Oota. Sorry I am late.” He dips again.
“Late? No not at all, actually a lot sooner than I expected.” His smile only widened, eyes now traveling elsewhere. The station, the people, the train, the distant buildings, vast horizon. The glint in his pupils; like he was seeing the world for the first time. “Alright, come now. I have to show you your accommodations,” at last I say, reaching for his suitcase. Kenji backs away, smile falling to a well-intentioned grin, “I can carry it. It’s fine.”
I respond with silent acquiesce. Leading him forward we started the walk home, hopefully making it in time before Atsushi returned from work.
“And this is the kitchen, straight down the middle hallway is the bath, to the right of that is your room, and upstairs is ours. Understand?”
Kenji dipped his head, cheerful expression now gone. Thin dark brows furrowed in all seriousness. “All we want for you to do is do the laundry, cook, clean a bit, and of course get a job in the city.” I loosen my stiff aura with the removal of my tie, hat, and jacket. “Now, go straight to your room and unpack. I’ll show you the rest of town.”
He was quiet for the most part. Quiet, timid, reserved. You know, that attitude of ‘speak when spoken to’. It made for some awkward moments, but it seems the strategy worked well. For when Atsushi came home, he barley even notice Kenji. It wasn’t until he saw that the main room was spotless that something was up. “Yoshitaka! Wha -“ Atsu froze, Kenji standing ‘at attention’ in front of him. “I’m sorry,” he says. “W-was I not supposed to clean there?” Atsu said nothing to him, gaze going over his frame as if he were a mere ornament on the wall. “Yoshitaka!” Hopping down the steps my heart nearly stopped. The sight of Atsushi seeing Kenji threw me off more than I’d expected, though I knew the event was inevitable. “Atsu-san how was work?” I ask, forcing a smile. Atsu looks at me hard, then gaze shifts over to Kenji. “How did you get here?” he says in Japanese. Kenji looks at me from the corner of his eye and lightly dips his head. “Mr. Yoshitaka advertised a nice place to stay and cheap rent. Also easy money and a start at an urban job.” Atsushi just stares at me, dark pupils now deep black. “I said it was stupid. Pointless. Why did you go through with it?”
I cringe, “We needed the money - ”
“Again! No we don’t. We never did!” A pause, tense hand running through his hair. “My job’s manager is doing just fine. I now even have an increased wage since I’ve been working there for 3 years.”
Silence.
“We don’t need any money…” Before I could retaliate, my lover made his way up the stairs; dropping the situation, and leaving Kenji’s fate in my hands. That answer was obvious though. I’d keep him. He needed the job, and no matter how much Atsu retorted we could always use some extra money.
“Okay, this should be it.” Steady hands tracing the rims of my eye with black liner. Another careful movement over the lips, saturating them with a darker hue. “So how do I look?” I say turning away from the mirror. Black eye shadow started bold near the upper eyelid then faded upwards to blend with my already pale face. Dark eye liner rimmed the borders of my lids, emphasizing black pupils. Thinned eye brows, shoulder-length hair left in its semi-wavy natural state, and petal-like lips bleached a color that accented my eyes, I found the make-up was minimum yet effective. Atsu stared. Hands fumbling with the last knot in his tie. Black trousers, white undershirt topped with a black waste coat. Minimum yet effective. “Good. Should be enough to get by.” I smiled slightly and returned to the mirror. Atsu had a formal meeting tonight. His manager discussing business with an opposing competitor. Perhaps - I assumed - that Atsu’s company was to be buying out the other, and this whole ‘formal meeting’ crap was to place an appealing mask on the ugly beast of greed. The problem was that the company’s managers’ of both sides knew that Atsu had a lover, but they did not know that the lover was male. So I dressed up as best as I could to impersonate a female figure; soft dress fitting in all the right places, light train tapering the floor, and semi-embroidered hat tilted slightly to the side. “Alright, ready to go?” he asks me. I say nothing but dip my head and grin. Right as the door opened, I gasp in remembrance. “Ah, Kenji!” I call. Obediently the dark haired boarder made his way to the entrance. He stops; a bit off balance. Eyes widen and eyebrows arch ever so slightly. His very surprise went unnoticed to Atsu - who was now halfway out the door smoking his last cigarette - and nearly to me. “I want you to just know that we won’t need dinner tonight. Just take it easy.” Resuming serious posture, he bows. Confirming with a brief nod, Atsushi and I head out the door.
“You okay?” I question lightly, making sure that my voice is softer than normal else others should find me out. Trotting along in a horse-drawn street car, we made our way to the banquet hall across town. Atsushi simply diverted his gaze out the window. My lips parted to speak, but couldn’t think of anything else. Instead I entangled my arm in the nook of his, feeling his body stiffen beneath my touch. A few minutes passed galloping through the night air. Listening to others’ conversations. Hearing the murmurs, whispers, and occasional gasp of surprise. Everyone joined together in some vulgar chorus. Everyone except Atsushi. Again I questioned his muteness, and again he responded with muteness. Finally giving up, I turn to the front, noticing the upcoming glow of the banquet hall. Short screech of brakes and the sliding of wheels on rock accompanied our stop at its entrance. Immediately Atsushi rose, rather unintentionally taking me up with him. Bumping our way past the dangling skirts of lofty women and the resting caps and canes of men, Atsu moved rather rigidly, practically dragging me along. Outside - as the cold night air licked exposed flesh and turned heated breaths into fleeting clouds - he stopped. The street car left with a click from the driver, clopping down the stone road. “Atsu…” I mutter, withdrawing my arm from his. For the first time his head turns toward my voice; though the movement was minute. Lips part to speak, then shut to reconsider. “Atsu,” I inquire again, “We should really go inside. We may perhaps be late and -”
“Go home.”
“…what?”
“Go back home,” he says, head still not fully turned.
I hesitate, smile of nervousness edging across my face, “Wh-what do you mean? Atsu?”
“You heard me. I said go back home. It’s okay.”
“But Atsushi. The meeting, what’re you to do?”
“It’s not about the meeting. It’s about you.” A pause. “What if you’re found out? What if you mess-up and they realize you’re actually a man?”
Silence. My gaze diverts down. Eyes shift from left to right in thought.
Finally, “What are you meaning to say? That…that I embarrass you?”
Nothing.
“That you’re ashamed to be with me if everyone knows what I am?”
Nothing.
“Atsu?”
“Just don’t follow me in.”
“But Atsu…”
“I said…I said don’t come. Just go home.” Head turned forward, body rigid with the ultimatum uttered. Night air picking at his skin and mine, though it seemed to come more sensitively to me. I stayed. Watched his body become engulfed with the inner light of the hall. Watched it pause, waver, then finally disappear. I stayed. Just standing there. And for some reason, for some very strange rationale, my eyes began to water. “Atsu,” I say, lips bitten back, brows furrowed. Hands clasped in front my glistening pupils gaze upon the lights one last time. I sigh and turn, descending down to home.
----
A/N: Yeah I used their real names in this one. Atsushi means 'industrial/hard-working' by the way.