Gift Fic for krysyuy
To: krysyuy
From: alienashi
HAPPY HOLIDAYS!
Title: .monologue
Pairing/Group: Hotta Katsuhiko/Bem (Inu wo Kau to Iu Koto/Youkai Ningen Bem)
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: No significant spoilers for either dramas, post-Inu, pre-YNB. Genre-wise: Futurefic, ANGST, messy timeline, strange formatting, awkward sexual situations, not enough porn, slight vagueness, shy!awkward!Bem, shy!awkward!Bem who keeps looking at the floor
Notes: This fic is sort of fragmented into two, with the left indicating the present and the right indicating the past. I hope I don't end up confusing anyone :)
To krysyuy, I took the liberty to stalk your journal and this, uhm, was sort of inspired by those gif images you have on your header. I hope you like this, and it has been a great pleasure to write for you!
Summary: Hotta was different. He was not just another human waiting for Bem to save.
*
Belo’s rough calculation estimates that they are just a few years short of having existed for 120 years. It took Belo three days to come up with the final result that he’s happy with, because they kept forgetting when did Japan surrender during the second world war (Belo first insisted that Japan was involved in the first world war and Bela hit his head because she knew very well that Japan wasn’t. The squabble dragged on for a whole day until Bem showed them a snippet from his electronic encyclopedia that had helped detail the entirety of Japan’s military history). Then Belo forgot that they escaped the 2011 Tohoku Earthquake for being in the west instead of experienced it, causing him to dispute with Bela over how long was it before they made it through another earthquake. This one in particular contributed nothing to their age calculation process, but it distracted Belo for half a day before he realised it. Right before Belo reached the final draft of his calculation, Bem reminded Belo that they had lived in Hokkaido before they moved all the way towards the south to Okinawa. Belo had to recalculate from the top and asked both Bem and Bela a million times over if they left out anything else before announcing the final calculation.
Truth be told, Bem can’t believe that they have been around for more than a century. He thought it would have been much longer.
Cars now use solar energy, houses can be travelled, and computers can be folded. Even Bem owns a few electronic devices of his own, because it’s fun to compare his own powers to human’s artificial intelligence. They have seen people they saved die of old age, falter due to sickness, or grow up to be remarkable members of the society.
They are still them. Just Bem, Bela, and Belo, trying to live through every day as though they can somehow die of old age.
Bela’s take on Belo’s estimation on their age is rather interesting. Instead of being indifferent, she starts counting how many human men she has met who could have been her potential love interests.
“There was this Miura Seiji-san, who looked really amazing in suits,” she recounts. “Bem, you should try wearing it too, I think suits do wonders to a man’s appearances.”
“Uhm?” Bem hums an answer. He isn’t really listening to her ramblings. He’s reading his notebook and it surprises him to discover how much his faithful notebook resembles a storybook. “Should I?”
“Yes, you should,” Bela insists. “Why are you still looking at that page? It has been more than an hour.”
He averts his eyes back to the page in the notebook and mentally reads the name on it.
Hotta Katsuhiko
Bem watches Hotta as he adjusts his son’s tie, preparing him for his high school graduation ceremony. He has gotten slightly older since the last time he saw him, with a few lines on his forehead and some visible white hairs, but he is still very well-groomed and handsome.
He watches him everytime, whenever and wherever. Hotta never knows it.
Bem never fails to see how time doesn’t stand still for Hotta. Hotta follows the current of time and changes with the tide.
Time always stands still for Bem.
Bela takes ten minutes to recall who Hotta Katsuhiko was.
“That doctor who wears suits all the time and looks a little like Miura-san?”
“You kept asking if he was related to Miura-san, remember?”
“Ah yeah,” Bela says. “It’s so nostalgic, remembering all these people who might be dead by now. Don’t you get depressed remembering them?”
Bem shakes his head lightly. “It makes me smile.”
“You’re so weird.”
“They can’t help but to die someday anyway, but at least we made a difference in their lives.”
Bela pauses for a while, contemplating Bem’s words.
“I guess you’re right.”
They meet for the first time in the hospital where Hotta’s working. Bem has just sent an old lady to the hospital; she was lying on the floor coughing blood when Bem found her. Hotta stops Bem from leaving by clutching on the hems of his sleeve.
“Please explain to me what happened to Kawamura-san,” he says anxiously. Bem obeys.
The short interview session expands into lunch in the hospital cafeteria. Bem finds it funny how Hotta-sensei can talk for hours even though he doesn’t seem rambly. Mostly Bem finds him attentive and really, really kind.
“Thank you, Bem-san,” he says when they part ways that day. “We need more people like you.”
Bem’s hand automatically darts to the top of his hat and presses down to cover the horns on his forehead. He bows to disguise the involuntary action he just made and turns to leave.
He doesn’t expect to see Hotta again in just a few days after their first encounter.
Humans love destiny like children love fairy tales. Destiny, for them, is many things beautiful, like meeting their better half when they least expect it. It’s like finding an item they lost some time ago, like meeting their long lost family.
For Hotta, it’s probably like meeting Bem again after a very long time.
“Sensei,” Bem calls softly when he finally gathers enough courage to address him. It’s hard; he feels like there’s an anvil pressing against his chest.
Hotta turns around and smiles at him. He doesn’t seem surprised to see Bem.
“It has been such a long time,” he says. “You have not changed.”
Bem’s hand moves to touch Hotta’s face. His skin has lost its smoothness and the fervour in his eyes has faded, but Bem has never been more overwhelmed by his beauty.
“You too.”
Hotta tells him about many things. About his friend, Sachiko, who has been happily married and expecting her fifth child (“I envy her so much, I want to someday be able to build my own family too!”). About his pet dog, who he adopted after the death of Sachiko’s pet dog, Skytree (“I love the way she wags her tail when I open the door to my apartment! Do you have a pet, Bem-san?”). About his work(“I treated a woman today, she was raped by her husband but she seemed to think that there was nothing wrong with it. It saddens me.”). About his future (“I would like to be able to open my own clinic, in that way I will have more time organising projects to benefit stray animals, orphans, and old folks.”). Bem loves listening to him.
“You’re really kind,” Bem says.
“No, I’m just doing my best,” Hotta chuckles. They are eating bento lunches that Hotta has packed himself rather clumsily, but Bem feels like it’s the best he has eaten in recent days. “It’s what I have to do as a doctor. If I want my patients to do their best to recover, I cannot half-ass through my life.”
Bem starts thinking about how his life and Hotta’s are not very different after all.
Belo’s recent object of fascination is soccer. He has just befriended a boy who seems to be of Belo’s widely-accepted age and he promised to teach Belo soccer. They knew about soccer alright, but Bem has never been interested and Bela scoffs at the rough tackling of other players (“And they call this sportsmanship?”), and neither has shown any inclination to pursue any other human sports. Belo used to like baseball back then during the Showa era, but started disliking it after a large boy kept hitting his goggles with his baseball bat. He also used to like basketball, but he could never throw the ball into the hoop (“I don’t think I can ever perform a slam dunk”, he had said dejectedly). Bem thinks that the new boy is good for Belo.
Bem watches them train their penalty kicks. The new boy, Kazuya, is teaching Belo how to target the goal before moving to place a few scarecrow-like bundles of grass in front of the goal.
Bem has never been a child, has never been an old person, has never grown up. He wonders if time will pass faster if he can age.
Hotta is clearly far more competent than Belo is when it comes to remembering years and the calculation of time.
“It has been fifty years since we’ve known each other,” he lays out, voice far deeper than Bem remembers.
“It has been so long,” Bem replies. Fifty years is not very long for him, but just enough to hit the realisation home; that Hotta has grown so much ahead, advanced so far, while Bem stays frozen and unaltered by time.
Bem glances at Hotta, and everything about him floods his mind, even the things he doesn’t talk about.
Bem starts paying regular visits to the hospital and tells Bela and Belo it isn’t about Hotta. Bela had scoffed again, making snide remarks about Bem and his one-sided love for humans. “It’s no use telling you to be careful anyway, you’re just going to be friends with him until he screams and shouts for us to leave. All in a day of a youkai’s life,” she chided. Belo merely smiled and said, “I made a friend today and we played with the skipping rope!”.
It was supposed to be true, whatever he said to Bela about the purpose of his daily visits to the hospital. At first it was because he wanted to check on Kawamura-san silently, but slowly it became a routine even after Kawamura-san was discharged. He has a knack for being spotted by Hotta whenever he goes to the hospital, and before long, almost all of Hotta’s patients know him as the “oniisan in an old hat”.
“He’s a friend,” Hotta always says, half-laughing. “One of the kindest persons I know.”
He gets to watch Hotta console a pair of spouses who lost their child in childbirth, a son who lost his mother to an accident, a husband who discovered that his wife couldn’t conceive and a little boy who wouldn’t be able to walk on his feet again. He gets to watch Hotta play with the patients, take them for a walk around the park, hold their hands while they undergo physiotherapy, and recite poems he remembers as he watches the sunset with his patients.
Bem observes him, admiring his gentle words and sincere touches.
“You want this to happen,” Bela tells him firmly after he finishes his story. About Hotta, about seeing him in secret all these years, about meeting him again. “You know it.”
Bem wants to protest and tell Bela that no, he hasn’t been wanting for this to happen, hasn’t been missing Hotta, hasn’t been pining for him.
Truth is, he doesn't think that he can lie to himself that much longer.
They both save humans. Hotta heals them. Bem rescues them.
Hotta is the one who ends up being the hero in the eyes of the society.
Bela and Belo sleep soundly that night and Bem lies awake on his makeshift bed, thinking about Hotta.
Things he would say about him: his kindness, his protectiveness, the way he looks at other people as he listens to them.
Things he doesn’t say about him: the way he felt himself tremble as his own fingers touched Hotta’s soft skin, the way he felt himself choke as Hotta pressed their lips together, the way Hotta clung to him as their bodies closed in together.
“Have I been interrupting you?” Bem asks.
Hotta looks up from the pile of patients’ records on his table. “No, you have been a great company. My patients love you! I think that it’s a good thing for them to be surrounded by someone who isn't too familiar with them.”
It’s Bem’s first time in Hotta’s office and he has expected it to be gleaming with tidiness. Instead, he’s greeted with scattered files, messily-piled papers, and broken medical equipments.
“Don’t mind the mess,” Hotta chuckles, scratching his head. “I will clean it up. Someday, I think.”
“It’s charming,” Bem says. Just like him, he thinks.
Hotta hands him a cup of coffee. It’s really warm, albeit a little too bitter.
“Come in more often, then.”
“You came again,” Hotta says when he sees Bem again the next day. “It’s the second time in two days after fifty years. I was rather afraid that yesterday would have been the last time I’d see you.”
He’s sitting on a bench in the park, reading an old book. Bem recognises the book.
“1Q84,” Bem reads.
“Do you remember?” Hotta asks. “You were there when I bought it. It has been my favourite since then.”
Bem sits beside him.
“You remember,” Bem says, looking down at his feet.
“I never forget.”
Hotta has a day off when Bem goes to visit him one day. Bem almost gets a shock when he sees him without his tie and glasses.
“Why did you come to work then?” asks Bemu, slightly puzzled.
“Ah,” Hotta explains, “I wanted to take you somewhere, but I don’t have your phone number. So I took a chance and tried waiting here, thinking that you might come.” He grins as he finishes his sentences. “I was right.”
Bem feels his face heating up. “Sorry, I don’t use a cellphone.”
“I know,” Hotta says simply, “I feel like I’m back in the olden days when there were no electronic devices to help us communicate.” He takes his wallet, slips it into the back pocket of his jeans and locks his phone inside a small cabinet under his desk. “I should have tried this some time ago,” he continues, referring to the phone.
He taps Bem on the shoulder.
“Shall we?”
Bem nods and follows him out of the door.
Over the years, Bem has seen Hotta despair after Bem left him, meet a woman and marry her, have children and attend their university graduation ceremonies. The woman’s name was Rena, and she was an old friend of Hotta’s friend, Sachiko. Hotta was reluctant at first, but agreed to meet her after Sachiko’s children convinced her that “Rena-obaachan” would be a great match for him. He fell in love with her six months into dating her and proposed on the day they celebrated their first anniversary. They had their honeymoon in Moscow, a place Hotta had always wanted to go to. They had their first child three years after they married and named him Junnosuke, a name Hotta had always loved. Their daughter was born three years after that, and she was named Karin. They moved to a larger house when Hotta was elected to be a member of the hospitals’ board of directors and helmed the pediatric ward. Junnosuke became a lawyer and Karin became a model and opened her own clothing line.
Bem hardly misses any detail of Hotta’s life.
On their first date (Bem didn’t know that they were on a date, but he likes the sound of it), they went to a bookstore, the terrarium, and had some of the best Italian food Bem has ever tasted.
“Do you want to do this again?”
Bem glances at him and Hotta looks expectant. He immediately stares at the ground and nods.
“Great.”
Destiny, fate, whichever. They bring people together.
On their second date, Hotta drives Bem to the seaside. Bem politely declines to swim, so they sit on a rock and watch the sunset together.
“Do you want to do this again?” Hotta asks nervously as he touches Bem’s wrist.
The orange sunset rays illuminate everything Bem sees, and he has never seen anything more beautiful. Hotta’s face is luminescent, shining radiantly and glowing blindingly.
Bem leans against his chest and whispers, “yes”.
”Why do you even meet him, and after fifty years at that?” Bera admonishes. “You’re kind of doing your intentions to leave him some disservice.”
Bem’s fingers trail down the pages in his notebook where he has written about Hotta.
“I have my reasons.”
Bera sighs exasperatedly. “Do whatever you want.”
At the end of their fifth date, Hotta tries to kiss Bem, but his hat gets in the way. He laughs at his own failed attempt to kiss a date.
While he’s laughing, Bem inches close and kisses him lightly on the cheeks. When he backs away, he sees that Hotta is no longer laughing.
His hands are sneaking to wrap Bem’s waist, head bending as close as Bem’s hat allows. Hotta’s eyes are warm when Bem’s own eyes catch them. The way he looks at Bem, he feels like the world is dissolving. Everything around him melts into a mess of colours. Everything except him.
Something inside Bem pounds against his chest like a jackhammer.
“Do you remember that night in the rain?” Hotta asks as Bem walks him home.
“Very clearly.”
Infatuation is a medical condition. It’s like having a flu; temperature rising and choking and feeling heavy. The symptoms come together to unfurl his insides and turn them into a malfunctioning clutter.
It makes Bem stay awake all night, wondering if infatuation can be healed.
“Bem,” Hotta says when he reaches his doorstep. “Have you ever wondered how we ended up like this?”
“Like this?”
“Yes, like this,” he answers, chortling slightly, “like, not being together.”
It’s sunny that day.
“I have never thought of it that way.”
Inside Bem, it’s raining.
There’s more to just closing the distance between them if he decides to take his hat off.
He can talk, eat, and act like a human but once the hat on his head falls off, there will be an unmistakable evidence of his peculiarity.
It’s the last thing he wants Hotta to see.
When it rains inside Bem, it drenches him on the outside.
Hotta tries to kiss him, again and again. Bem doesn’t want to take his hat off.
Fate, destiny, whichever. They bring people together just to tear them apart.
Hotta’s patient, a young woman in her 20s, died unexpectedly that day. She was a cancer patient who was supposed to only need two more chemotherapy sessions, but she had fallen from the staircase and suffered concussions, and then died a few hours later.
It’s the first time Bem has seen Hotta cry.
He’s holding the scarf she had given him when she saw that Hotta was sweating. “She was wiping my face and she looked so happy to finally be able to leave the hospital. She wanted to do so many things. She wanted to finish her degree, marry her boyfriend and get a job in the National Cancer Centre. I was looking forward to it.”
Hotta’s standing in front of the window of his office, staring outside at the group of children who are playing hide-and-seek. The sun will set soon.
“You did your best,” Bem says softly, hoping that it will help.
“I know,” Hotta replies. “I tried. I did my best. It still hurts.”
Bem lays his stick on the sofa and walks towards Hotta. “Sensei,” he starts as he pulls Hotta’s back to his chest. “It’s good that you feel this way. If death didn’t affect you, then you would no longer be a doctor who heals people.”
“Bem,” Hotta whispers. He seems surprised by the sudden gesture and moves to hold both Bem’s hands that are on his chest tightly.
“You would only be a monster who fixes people.”
They stay that way until the sun has finished setting and the moon has risen.
Bem used to think of infatuation as an incurable medical condition. Now he thinks of infatuation as a prelude to paralysis.
“I wish I could fix you,” Hotta whispers in Bem’s ears as they spend the night in each other’s arms on the sofa in his office.
“But I’m not damaged,” Bem says.
Hotta’s knuckles caress Bem’s face tenderly.
“If I were damaged, would you fix me?”
“You won’t be,” Bem assures. “You’re a hero.”
Love is a feeling, a flow of current along his veins that numbs him.
It makes him feel like he’s a human.
“I’m a monster,” he says to Hotta. He takes his hat and shirt off.
Hotta stares at him, completely dumbstruck. He gasps, his mouth gapes open and he wills himself to keep his jaw from dropping as he tries to appear like he has been told of something far more believable than that. Bem can’t help but to stare back and attempt to stay unaffected by his reaction.
More than ever, Bem wishes that doctors could fix his body and make him human.
Bela has been learning to cook since a long time ago, with each effort meeting varying degrees of success. When she had tried to cook gyoza, she miscalculated the timing and ended up burning one side and the gyozas ended up being one of the nastiest things Bem and Belo had ever tasted at that moment. When she had tried to cook lasagne, she put too much cheese and ended up making one of the most disgusting things Bem and Belo had ever tasted, at that very moment. When she had tried to make sushi, the rice didn’t stick and she got so frustrated, she ended up rolling them into oddly-shaped onigiris (Belo thought they looked like rotten eggs). It didn’t end up being the worst thing Bem and Belo had ever tasted because they couldn’t bring themselves to eat them and they decided that grass would be a better choice for food.
Bela is planning to try cooking shumai, ignoring the warnings about shumais being one of the most difficult things to make.
Bela tries and fails. Bem doesn’t fail because he has never really tried anything.
It has been five days since Bem revealed himself to Hotta. He hasn’t paid any visit to the hospital since then.
“They are all humans, Bem,” Bela states. “What makes him different?”
It starts raining when Bem stops by the hospital and he paces faster towards the nearest shelter only to find Hotta there, drying his umbrella. It’s awkward.
“Bem?”
“Sensei,” Bem stutters.
“Are you looking for me?”
Bem looks down at his shoes. “Not really.”
They look away from each other before Hotta starts speaking again.
“Come to my office, you need to dry your clothes or you will get sick.”
The rain wouldn’t make Bem sick, but Bem doesn’t need the rain to make his insides twist uncomfortably.
Hotta was different. He was not just another human waiting for Bem to save.
Hotta wipes Bem’s body gently. “Does it hurt when I touch here?” Hotta asks, patting the cracks on his shoulder with a warm towel.
“No,” Bem says, fingers trembling and nails digging into his pants.
“Does it hurt when I touch here?” Hotta asks again, stroking the horns on Bem’s forehead.
“No,” Bem answers again, lips curving into a giggle. It sort of tickles.
Hotta slowly taps until he reaches Bem’s chest.
“Here?” he asks, eyes burning into Bem’s.
“No,” Bem says after swallowing his saliva.
Hotta pulls Bem’s face closer by the neck, gives him a long, lingering kiss and Bem finds himself losing his ability to breathe. His body shakes and blood flows to the top of his skin.
His skin begins to crack and they part.
“Does it hurt?”
Bem hugs himself tightly.
“Yes,” he sobs and lets himself drawn into Hotta’s embrace.
Outside, it’s pouring. Inside, it’s warm.
Hotta was a hero.
Love is a feeling, an insurgence of heat streaming furiously inside him. It makes his skin crack and his body tear apart.
It turns him into a complete monster.
“He loved me.”
When their hands link together, it feels like magic.
When their foreheads touch, Bem feels himself floating.
When Hotta touches him, Bem feels electrified.
Hotta is a wizard who conjures a spell everytime they kiss.
“He wanted me.”
Hotta pins him to the bed and the lightning strikes.
Bem’s eyes are lost in Hotta’s. The lights flicker around them until the lightning strikes again and everything around them blacks out.
“Sensei,” Bem moans. Hotta’s eyes are glinting in a quietly ferocious way. He lowers a finger on Bemu’s lips and bends to kiss him.
“I’ll take it slow,” he says in between kisses. “I’m not going to make you transform.”
“Sensei,” Bem protests, but Hotta holds him tighter. He traces his hands over Bem’s chest tenderly and starts kissing his body. All over the scars, the cracks, the lumps, everything. His body heats up and Bem suddenly feels himself broken, feels himself being ripped apart, feels himself shattered and for the first time since he met Hotta, he doesn’t think he can stop himself from being the real monster that humans fear.
“I’ll hold you,” Hotta says. “Don’t worry.”
Bem pushes him away and rises up.
“Sensei,” he chokes, hands on Hotts’s chest, clinging to him. “I can’t-I can’t do it.”
Outside, it has started raining.
His skin cracks and Hotta takes him in his arms and rocks him gently. He runs his fingers through Bem’s hair and kisses his nape, whispering comforting words into his ears.
“I loved him.”
“Sensei, let me touch you.”
Hotta’s eyes widen. He cups Bem’s face in his palms and shakes his head lightly.
“No,” he denies Bem. “You don’t have to do it.”
Bem raises himself a little and kisses Hotta.
“I want to.”
“Bem-“
He silences Hotta with a kiss.
Outside, it’s still raining.
Passion is a coping mechanism. Passion comes in when a breaking point is reached, when love hurts too much.
Passion can help, but passion can’t fix.
Hotta takes Bem’s hand and kisses it, then guides it into his pants. Bem lets out a small gasp.
“It will be alright,” Hotta says. “Everything will be alright.”
They kiss again, this time Bem presses harder and deeper. Hotta holds him protectively in his arm.
“Just stroke it,” he requests into Bem’s ears.
“Sensei, I-“
Hotta kisses his nape. “Don’t say anything. Just touch me.”
Bem shifts so that he’s sitting on top of Hotta and straddles him slowly, hand still working on his cock. Hotta’s tongue trails his body, jolting his senses awake. Bem grabs Hotta’s hair and grips the back of his head, determined to finish what was started.
Hotta gets hard in no time and whimpers. “Faster.”
Bem throws his head back. He should be fine, should be able to keep himself in control, should be able to stop his body from losing itself.
“I will be alright,” he says, echoing Hotta’s words and quickening his pace. He strokes him faster and harder and he finds his own bulge throbbing as well. “Sensei-“
There’s a hand touching him now, touching him there, and he groans from the sudden arousal. His nails tighten their grip and dig into Hotta’s neck, and Hotta screams in pain.
Bem wants to stop there, but he needs Hotta’s touch and he needs to see Hotta climax. He can’t let go. Not yet.
“Sensei-“
“Don’t stop!”
Hotta’s panting and starting to stroke Bem.
“I will scream,” he grunts, “but we will be alright.”
Bem’s fingers press down to Hotta’s back. The cracks are going to come.
“Faster,” Hotta breathes.
A few more strokes and Hotta screams in pleasure. His voice resonates inside Bem’s ears, sending him into an overdrive.
The cracks start forming and Hotta hugs him tightly. “You can do it.”
“I can’t,” Bem says. He wants to fight it, but it doesn’t seem like he can.
“Let it out.”
“Sensei,” Bem cries. His eyes are turning black, his fangs are showing, and his body is deforming.
“Come for me.”
“I can’t,” Bem sobs, biting Hotta’s shoulder, making him scream again.
“Bem,” Hotta’s words tremble as he steels his body against the pain, “I-I-“
Something inside Bem feels like it just exploded and he lets go of Hotta’s shoulder.
“I love you.”
Outside, the thunder roars. Inside, Bem howls.
Bela feels warm as Bem sleeps next to her.
He drifts into a deep sleep and dreams about the sunny day when he lies on the seaside, watching the sunrise with Bela and Belo.
Passion comes with love, but passion also brings out the ugliest in him.
Bem’s passion can be a weapon.
“Sensei,” he calls when he meets him in the same spot in the park the next day.
Hotta turns around and smiles. “I have been expecting you.”
“Really?”
Hotta pulls Bem’s hand and holds it lightly. “Do you want to come to my house?”
“Why?”
Hotta laughs and Bem is transported back in time. Back to the time when he was hopelessly in love with him, when everything Hotta did and said made his heart soar.
“Just because.”
Humans are born. Humans grow up. Humans get married. Humans have babies. Humans grow old. Humans die.
Hotta has to do all of these.
Fifty years ago, Bem fell in love.
He has not fallen out of it.
Humans kiss and their world brightens. Humans say “I love you” and these words mean more than a diamond.
Humans make love and the rest of the world fades to black.
Bem can’t do any of these.
Hotta’s coffee still tastes a little too bitter.
His house is far tidier than the small, tiny little office in the hospital he used to work in. There are pictures hanging around the house; of his wife, his son, his daughter, his extended family, his friends. There are books and electronic devices. There are musical instruments and printouts of his daughter’s many photoshoots.
Hotta’s house is a journey, a history, a memoir.
Bem’s not in any of them.
“I should go.”
Time can heal. Humans can heal.
Bem can’t heal because time doesn’t affect him.
Twenty-two years ago, Junnosuke left the sanctuary of his father’s house to build a family with his then-bride-to-be, Mariko.
Twenty years ago, Karin moved to France and married a British designer.
Five years ago, Rena was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer.
Two years ago, Rena’s cancer reached terminal stage and she asked Hotta to place her in a hospice. Hotta had wept and begged his wife to fight, but she convinced him, saying that she had fulfilled her life and Hotta should be happy on her behalf.
A year ago, Rena passed away in Hotta’s arm.
Bem hardly misses any detail of Hotta’s life.
Hotta is getting married today.
The sun shines brightly outside, but it snows inside Bem.
“No,” Hotta says, hands pulling Bem to stop him from leaving.
Bem’s eyes meet Hotta's. They are just as determined as he has last remembered them.
“Why?”
Hotta doesn’t answer. Instead, he pulls Bem closer to his chest for a hug.
“I should ask you why.”
Bem drops his stick.
“Sensei-“
“Why did you have to leave?”
Bem hates winter the most.
“You left me with nothing to remember you with,” Hotta says.
It has never stopped snowing since the day Hotta got married.
Bem has found his way back into Hotta’s arms, but all he can think about is how broken Hotta sounded.
It feels like time hasn’t healed him.
Sometimes Bem watches Hotta and wonders if he remembers him.
“I remember everything about you,” Bem says.
The way he smells, the way he tucks his hair, the way he pushes his glasses up his nose.
Everything.
Maybe it’s best that Hotta completely forgets him.
“Stay.”
However, admitting to himself that he doesn’t want Hotta to ever forget him is the hardest thing ever.
“Stay with me.”
Bela and Belo hold him as he lies awake at night, resisting the urge to release and transform.
“Please.”
Belo tells him that a normal Japanese human has about ninety to a hundred years to live. Twenty of their earlier years would be used to grow up, the next forty years would be used to earn as much as they can, and then the next thirty to forty years would be used to grow old and die.
Bem, Bela, and Belo have had more than average humans and they have spent all those years together.
“He wouldn’t have much longer, Bem,” Belo says, “maybe you should make him happy.”
“And yourself too,” Bela adds, patting his back. “Be happy with him.”
Bem smiles.
“We will be here.”
Hotta’s arms are warm, his kisses are soft and his touches tender.
The snow inside him starts to thaw.
Love should have been beautiful.
“Love is remembering someone forever, even when they leave you with nothing,” Hotta says when Bem asks him why he didn’t forget him. There’s no bitterness in his voice, just wistfulness and nostalgia.
Hotta tells him about many things; about Rena (“Do you know that she had laughed when I proposed to her?”), about Junnosuke (“He was so lame as a child, he thought nobody wanted to be his friend.”), about Karin (“She was only ten when she stole Rena’s eyeliner and wore it to school, can you imagine that?”), about his patients and fellow researchers (“Remember the woman who was going to heal from cancer but died suddenly? Her sister took her place in the National Cancer Centre.”), and about Bem (“I have always thought of you as one of the most beautiful persons I have ever seen.”).
He tells Bem that he’s glad that Bem doesn’t age.
“To me, you’re like poetry came alive,” he says as they kiss. “I’m lucky to have loved you.”
“Sensei,” Bem whispers.
They link their fingers together, watching the sunset on top of a mountain.
“I love you,” Bem says.
Hotta finds his eyes and Bem sees the sun rising in them.
Love is beautiful.
*
From: alienashi
HAPPY HOLIDAYS!
Title: .monologue
Pairing/Group: Hotta Katsuhiko/Bem (Inu wo Kau to Iu Koto/Youkai Ningen Bem)
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: No significant spoilers for either dramas, post-Inu, pre-YNB. Genre-wise: Futurefic, ANGST, messy timeline, strange formatting, awkward sexual situations, not enough porn, slight vagueness, shy!awkward!Bem, shy!awkward!Bem who keeps looking at the floor
Notes: This fic is sort of fragmented into two, with the left indicating the present and the right indicating the past. I hope I don't end up confusing anyone :)
To krysyuy, I took the liberty to stalk your journal and this, uhm, was sort of inspired by those gif images you have on your header. I hope you like this, and it has been a great pleasure to write for you!
Summary: Hotta was different. He was not just another human waiting for Bem to save.
*
Belo’s rough calculation estimates that they are just a few years short of having existed for 120 years. It took Belo three days to come up with the final result that he’s happy with, because they kept forgetting when did Japan surrender during the second world war (Belo first insisted that Japan was involved in the first world war and Bela hit his head because she knew very well that Japan wasn’t. The squabble dragged on for a whole day until Bem showed them a snippet from his electronic encyclopedia that had helped detail the entirety of Japan’s military history). Then Belo forgot that they escaped the 2011 Tohoku Earthquake for being in the west instead of experienced it, causing him to dispute with Bela over how long was it before they made it through another earthquake. This one in particular contributed nothing to their age calculation process, but it distracted Belo for half a day before he realised it. Right before Belo reached the final draft of his calculation, Bem reminded Belo that they had lived in Hokkaido before they moved all the way towards the south to Okinawa. Belo had to recalculate from the top and asked both Bem and Bela a million times over if they left out anything else before announcing the final calculation.
Truth be told, Bem can’t believe that they have been around for more than a century. He thought it would have been much longer.
Cars now use solar energy, houses can be travelled, and computers can be folded. Even Bem owns a few electronic devices of his own, because it’s fun to compare his own powers to human’s artificial intelligence. They have seen people they saved die of old age, falter due to sickness, or grow up to be remarkable members of the society.
They are still them. Just Bem, Bela, and Belo, trying to live through every day as though they can somehow die of old age.
Bela’s take on Belo’s estimation on their age is rather interesting. Instead of being indifferent, she starts counting how many human men she has met who could have been her potential love interests.
“There was this Miura Seiji-san, who looked really amazing in suits,” she recounts. “Bem, you should try wearing it too, I think suits do wonders to a man’s appearances.”
“Uhm?” Bem hums an answer. He isn’t really listening to her ramblings. He’s reading his notebook and it surprises him to discover how much his faithful notebook resembles a storybook. “Should I?”
“Yes, you should,” Bela insists. “Why are you still looking at that page? It has been more than an hour.”
He averts his eyes back to the page in the notebook and mentally reads the name on it.
Hotta Katsuhiko
Bem watches Hotta as he adjusts his son’s tie, preparing him for his high school graduation ceremony. He has gotten slightly older since the last time he saw him, with a few lines on his forehead and some visible white hairs, but he is still very well-groomed and handsome.
He watches him everytime, whenever and wherever. Hotta never knows it.
Bem never fails to see how time doesn’t stand still for Hotta. Hotta follows the current of time and changes with the tide.
Time always stands still for Bem.
Bela takes ten minutes to recall who Hotta Katsuhiko was.
“That doctor who wears suits all the time and looks a little like Miura-san?”
“You kept asking if he was related to Miura-san, remember?”
“Ah yeah,” Bela says. “It’s so nostalgic, remembering all these people who might be dead by now. Don’t you get depressed remembering them?”
Bem shakes his head lightly. “It makes me smile.”
“You’re so weird.”
“They can’t help but to die someday anyway, but at least we made a difference in their lives.”
Bela pauses for a while, contemplating Bem’s words.
“I guess you’re right.”
They meet for the first time in the hospital where Hotta’s working. Bem has just sent an old lady to the hospital; she was lying on the floor coughing blood when Bem found her. Hotta stops Bem from leaving by clutching on the hems of his sleeve.
“Please explain to me what happened to Kawamura-san,” he says anxiously. Bem obeys.
The short interview session expands into lunch in the hospital cafeteria. Bem finds it funny how Hotta-sensei can talk for hours even though he doesn’t seem rambly. Mostly Bem finds him attentive and really, really kind.
“Thank you, Bem-san,” he says when they part ways that day. “We need more people like you.”
Bem’s hand automatically darts to the top of his hat and presses down to cover the horns on his forehead. He bows to disguise the involuntary action he just made and turns to leave.
He doesn’t expect to see Hotta again in just a few days after their first encounter.
Humans love destiny like children love fairy tales. Destiny, for them, is many things beautiful, like meeting their better half when they least expect it. It’s like finding an item they lost some time ago, like meeting their long lost family.
For Hotta, it’s probably like meeting Bem again after a very long time.
“Sensei,” Bem calls softly when he finally gathers enough courage to address him. It’s hard; he feels like there’s an anvil pressing against his chest.
Hotta turns around and smiles at him. He doesn’t seem surprised to see Bem.
“It has been such a long time,” he says. “You have not changed.”
Bem’s hand moves to touch Hotta’s face. His skin has lost its smoothness and the fervour in his eyes has faded, but Bem has never been more overwhelmed by his beauty.
“You too.”
Hotta tells him about many things. About his friend, Sachiko, who has been happily married and expecting her fifth child (“I envy her so much, I want to someday be able to build my own family too!”). About his pet dog, who he adopted after the death of Sachiko’s pet dog, Skytree (“I love the way she wags her tail when I open the door to my apartment! Do you have a pet, Bem-san?”). About his work(“I treated a woman today, she was raped by her husband but she seemed to think that there was nothing wrong with it. It saddens me.”). About his future (“I would like to be able to open my own clinic, in that way I will have more time organising projects to benefit stray animals, orphans, and old folks.”). Bem loves listening to him.
“You’re really kind,” Bem says.
“No, I’m just doing my best,” Hotta chuckles. They are eating bento lunches that Hotta has packed himself rather clumsily, but Bem feels like it’s the best he has eaten in recent days. “It’s what I have to do as a doctor. If I want my patients to do their best to recover, I cannot half-ass through my life.”
Bem starts thinking about how his life and Hotta’s are not very different after all.
Belo’s recent object of fascination is soccer. He has just befriended a boy who seems to be of Belo’s widely-accepted age and he promised to teach Belo soccer. They knew about soccer alright, but Bem has never been interested and Bela scoffs at the rough tackling of other players (“And they call this sportsmanship?”), and neither has shown any inclination to pursue any other human sports. Belo used to like baseball back then during the Showa era, but started disliking it after a large boy kept hitting his goggles with his baseball bat. He also used to like basketball, but he could never throw the ball into the hoop (“I don’t think I can ever perform a slam dunk”, he had said dejectedly). Bem thinks that the new boy is good for Belo.
Bem watches them train their penalty kicks. The new boy, Kazuya, is teaching Belo how to target the goal before moving to place a few scarecrow-like bundles of grass in front of the goal.
Bem has never been a child, has never been an old person, has never grown up. He wonders if time will pass faster if he can age.
Hotta is clearly far more competent than Belo is when it comes to remembering years and the calculation of time.
“It has been fifty years since we’ve known each other,” he lays out, voice far deeper than Bem remembers.
“It has been so long,” Bem replies. Fifty years is not very long for him, but just enough to hit the realisation home; that Hotta has grown so much ahead, advanced so far, while Bem stays frozen and unaltered by time.
Bem glances at Hotta, and everything about him floods his mind, even the things he doesn’t talk about.
Bem starts paying regular visits to the hospital and tells Bela and Belo it isn’t about Hotta. Bela had scoffed again, making snide remarks about Bem and his one-sided love for humans. “It’s no use telling you to be careful anyway, you’re just going to be friends with him until he screams and shouts for us to leave. All in a day of a youkai’s life,” she chided. Belo merely smiled and said, “I made a friend today and we played with the skipping rope!”.
It was supposed to be true, whatever he said to Bela about the purpose of his daily visits to the hospital. At first it was because he wanted to check on Kawamura-san silently, but slowly it became a routine even after Kawamura-san was discharged. He has a knack for being spotted by Hotta whenever he goes to the hospital, and before long, almost all of Hotta’s patients know him as the “oniisan in an old hat”.
“He’s a friend,” Hotta always says, half-laughing. “One of the kindest persons I know.”
He gets to watch Hotta console a pair of spouses who lost their child in childbirth, a son who lost his mother to an accident, a husband who discovered that his wife couldn’t conceive and a little boy who wouldn’t be able to walk on his feet again. He gets to watch Hotta play with the patients, take them for a walk around the park, hold their hands while they undergo physiotherapy, and recite poems he remembers as he watches the sunset with his patients.
Bem observes him, admiring his gentle words and sincere touches.
“You want this to happen,” Bela tells him firmly after he finishes his story. About Hotta, about seeing him in secret all these years, about meeting him again. “You know it.”
Bem wants to protest and tell Bela that no, he hasn’t been wanting for this to happen, hasn’t been missing Hotta, hasn’t been pining for him.
Truth is, he doesn't think that he can lie to himself that much longer.
They both save humans. Hotta heals them. Bem rescues them.
Hotta is the one who ends up being the hero in the eyes of the society.
Bela and Belo sleep soundly that night and Bem lies awake on his makeshift bed, thinking about Hotta.
Things he would say about him: his kindness, his protectiveness, the way he looks at other people as he listens to them.
Things he doesn’t say about him: the way he felt himself tremble as his own fingers touched Hotta’s soft skin, the way he felt himself choke as Hotta pressed their lips together, the way Hotta clung to him as their bodies closed in together.
“Have I been interrupting you?” Bem asks.
Hotta looks up from the pile of patients’ records on his table. “No, you have been a great company. My patients love you! I think that it’s a good thing for them to be surrounded by someone who isn't too familiar with them.”
It’s Bem’s first time in Hotta’s office and he has expected it to be gleaming with tidiness. Instead, he’s greeted with scattered files, messily-piled papers, and broken medical equipments.
“Don’t mind the mess,” Hotta chuckles, scratching his head. “I will clean it up. Someday, I think.”
“It’s charming,” Bem says. Just like him, he thinks.
Hotta hands him a cup of coffee. It’s really warm, albeit a little too bitter.
“Come in more often, then.”
“You came again,” Hotta says when he sees Bem again the next day. “It’s the second time in two days after fifty years. I was rather afraid that yesterday would have been the last time I’d see you.”
He’s sitting on a bench in the park, reading an old book. Bem recognises the book.
“1Q84,” Bem reads.
“Do you remember?” Hotta asks. “You were there when I bought it. It has been my favourite since then.”
Bem sits beside him.
“You remember,” Bem says, looking down at his feet.
“I never forget.”
Hotta has a day off when Bem goes to visit him one day. Bem almost gets a shock when he sees him without his tie and glasses.
“Why did you come to work then?” asks Bemu, slightly puzzled.
“Ah,” Hotta explains, “I wanted to take you somewhere, but I don’t have your phone number. So I took a chance and tried waiting here, thinking that you might come.” He grins as he finishes his sentences. “I was right.”
Bem feels his face heating up. “Sorry, I don’t use a cellphone.”
“I know,” Hotta says simply, “I feel like I’m back in the olden days when there were no electronic devices to help us communicate.” He takes his wallet, slips it into the back pocket of his jeans and locks his phone inside a small cabinet under his desk. “I should have tried this some time ago,” he continues, referring to the phone.
He taps Bem on the shoulder.
“Shall we?”
Bem nods and follows him out of the door.
Over the years, Bem has seen Hotta despair after Bem left him, meet a woman and marry her, have children and attend their university graduation ceremonies. The woman’s name was Rena, and she was an old friend of Hotta’s friend, Sachiko. Hotta was reluctant at first, but agreed to meet her after Sachiko’s children convinced her that “Rena-obaachan” would be a great match for him. He fell in love with her six months into dating her and proposed on the day they celebrated their first anniversary. They had their honeymoon in Moscow, a place Hotta had always wanted to go to. They had their first child three years after they married and named him Junnosuke, a name Hotta had always loved. Their daughter was born three years after that, and she was named Karin. They moved to a larger house when Hotta was elected to be a member of the hospitals’ board of directors and helmed the pediatric ward. Junnosuke became a lawyer and Karin became a model and opened her own clothing line.
Bem hardly misses any detail of Hotta’s life.
On their first date (Bem didn’t know that they were on a date, but he likes the sound of it), they went to a bookstore, the terrarium, and had some of the best Italian food Bem has ever tasted.
“Do you want to do this again?”
Bem glances at him and Hotta looks expectant. He immediately stares at the ground and nods.
“Great.”
Destiny, fate, whichever. They bring people together.
On their second date, Hotta drives Bem to the seaside. Bem politely declines to swim, so they sit on a rock and watch the sunset together.
“Do you want to do this again?” Hotta asks nervously as he touches Bem’s wrist.
The orange sunset rays illuminate everything Bem sees, and he has never seen anything more beautiful. Hotta’s face is luminescent, shining radiantly and glowing blindingly.
Bem leans against his chest and whispers, “yes”.
”Why do you even meet him, and after fifty years at that?” Bera admonishes. “You’re kind of doing your intentions to leave him some disservice.”
Bem’s fingers trail down the pages in his notebook where he has written about Hotta.
“I have my reasons.”
Bera sighs exasperatedly. “Do whatever you want.”
At the end of their fifth date, Hotta tries to kiss Bem, but his hat gets in the way. He laughs at his own failed attempt to kiss a date.
While he’s laughing, Bem inches close and kisses him lightly on the cheeks. When he backs away, he sees that Hotta is no longer laughing.
His hands are sneaking to wrap Bem’s waist, head bending as close as Bem’s hat allows. Hotta’s eyes are warm when Bem’s own eyes catch them. The way he looks at Bem, he feels like the world is dissolving. Everything around him melts into a mess of colours. Everything except him.
Something inside Bem pounds against his chest like a jackhammer.
“Do you remember that night in the rain?” Hotta asks as Bem walks him home.
“Very clearly.”
Infatuation is a medical condition. It’s like having a flu; temperature rising and choking and feeling heavy. The symptoms come together to unfurl his insides and turn them into a malfunctioning clutter.
It makes Bem stay awake all night, wondering if infatuation can be healed.
“Bem,” Hotta says when he reaches his doorstep. “Have you ever wondered how we ended up like this?”
“Like this?”
“Yes, like this,” he answers, chortling slightly, “like, not being together.”
It’s sunny that day.
“I have never thought of it that way.”
Inside Bem, it’s raining.
There’s more to just closing the distance between them if he decides to take his hat off.
He can talk, eat, and act like a human but once the hat on his head falls off, there will be an unmistakable evidence of his peculiarity.
It’s the last thing he wants Hotta to see.
When it rains inside Bem, it drenches him on the outside.
Hotta tries to kiss him, again and again. Bem doesn’t want to take his hat off.
Fate, destiny, whichever. They bring people together just to tear them apart.
Hotta’s patient, a young woman in her 20s, died unexpectedly that day. She was a cancer patient who was supposed to only need two more chemotherapy sessions, but she had fallen from the staircase and suffered concussions, and then died a few hours later.
It’s the first time Bem has seen Hotta cry.
He’s holding the scarf she had given him when she saw that Hotta was sweating. “She was wiping my face and she looked so happy to finally be able to leave the hospital. She wanted to do so many things. She wanted to finish her degree, marry her boyfriend and get a job in the National Cancer Centre. I was looking forward to it.”
Hotta’s standing in front of the window of his office, staring outside at the group of children who are playing hide-and-seek. The sun will set soon.
“You did your best,” Bem says softly, hoping that it will help.
“I know,” Hotta replies. “I tried. I did my best. It still hurts.”
Bem lays his stick on the sofa and walks towards Hotta. “Sensei,” he starts as he pulls Hotta’s back to his chest. “It’s good that you feel this way. If death didn’t affect you, then you would no longer be a doctor who heals people.”
“Bem,” Hotta whispers. He seems surprised by the sudden gesture and moves to hold both Bem’s hands that are on his chest tightly.
“You would only be a monster who fixes people.”
They stay that way until the sun has finished setting and the moon has risen.
Bem used to think of infatuation as an incurable medical condition. Now he thinks of infatuation as a prelude to paralysis.
“I wish I could fix you,” Hotta whispers in Bem’s ears as they spend the night in each other’s arms on the sofa in his office.
“But I’m not damaged,” Bem says.
Hotta’s knuckles caress Bem’s face tenderly.
“If I were damaged, would you fix me?”
“You won’t be,” Bem assures. “You’re a hero.”
Love is a feeling, a flow of current along his veins that numbs him.
It makes him feel like he’s a human.
“I’m a monster,” he says to Hotta. He takes his hat and shirt off.
Hotta stares at him, completely dumbstruck. He gasps, his mouth gapes open and he wills himself to keep his jaw from dropping as he tries to appear like he has been told of something far more believable than that. Bem can’t help but to stare back and attempt to stay unaffected by his reaction.
More than ever, Bem wishes that doctors could fix his body and make him human.
Bela has been learning to cook since a long time ago, with each effort meeting varying degrees of success. When she had tried to cook gyoza, she miscalculated the timing and ended up burning one side and the gyozas ended up being one of the nastiest things Bem and Belo had ever tasted at that moment. When she had tried to cook lasagne, she put too much cheese and ended up making one of the most disgusting things Bem and Belo had ever tasted, at that very moment. When she had tried to make sushi, the rice didn’t stick and she got so frustrated, she ended up rolling them into oddly-shaped onigiris (Belo thought they looked like rotten eggs). It didn’t end up being the worst thing Bem and Belo had ever tasted because they couldn’t bring themselves to eat them and they decided that grass would be a better choice for food.
Bela is planning to try cooking shumai, ignoring the warnings about shumais being one of the most difficult things to make.
Bela tries and fails. Bem doesn’t fail because he has never really tried anything.
It has been five days since Bem revealed himself to Hotta. He hasn’t paid any visit to the hospital since then.
“They are all humans, Bem,” Bela states. “What makes him different?”
It starts raining when Bem stops by the hospital and he paces faster towards the nearest shelter only to find Hotta there, drying his umbrella. It’s awkward.
“Bem?”
“Sensei,” Bem stutters.
“Are you looking for me?”
Bem looks down at his shoes. “Not really.”
They look away from each other before Hotta starts speaking again.
“Come to my office, you need to dry your clothes or you will get sick.”
The rain wouldn’t make Bem sick, but Bem doesn’t need the rain to make his insides twist uncomfortably.
Hotta was different. He was not just another human waiting for Bem to save.
Hotta wipes Bem’s body gently. “Does it hurt when I touch here?” Hotta asks, patting the cracks on his shoulder with a warm towel.
“No,” Bem says, fingers trembling and nails digging into his pants.
“Does it hurt when I touch here?” Hotta asks again, stroking the horns on Bem’s forehead.
“No,” Bem answers again, lips curving into a giggle. It sort of tickles.
Hotta slowly taps until he reaches Bem’s chest.
“Here?” he asks, eyes burning into Bem’s.
“No,” Bem says after swallowing his saliva.
Hotta pulls Bem’s face closer by the neck, gives him a long, lingering kiss and Bem finds himself losing his ability to breathe. His body shakes and blood flows to the top of his skin.
His skin begins to crack and they part.
“Does it hurt?”
Bem hugs himself tightly.
“Yes,” he sobs and lets himself drawn into Hotta’s embrace.
Outside, it’s pouring. Inside, it’s warm.
Hotta was a hero.
Love is a feeling, an insurgence of heat streaming furiously inside him. It makes his skin crack and his body tear apart.
It turns him into a complete monster.
“He loved me.”
When their hands link together, it feels like magic.
When their foreheads touch, Bem feels himself floating.
When Hotta touches him, Bem feels electrified.
Hotta is a wizard who conjures a spell everytime they kiss.
“He wanted me.”
Hotta pins him to the bed and the lightning strikes.
Bem’s eyes are lost in Hotta’s. The lights flicker around them until the lightning strikes again and everything around them blacks out.
“Sensei,” Bem moans. Hotta’s eyes are glinting in a quietly ferocious way. He lowers a finger on Bemu’s lips and bends to kiss him.
“I’ll take it slow,” he says in between kisses. “I’m not going to make you transform.”
“Sensei,” Bem protests, but Hotta holds him tighter. He traces his hands over Bem’s chest tenderly and starts kissing his body. All over the scars, the cracks, the lumps, everything. His body heats up and Bem suddenly feels himself broken, feels himself being ripped apart, feels himself shattered and for the first time since he met Hotta, he doesn’t think he can stop himself from being the real monster that humans fear.
“I’ll hold you,” Hotta says. “Don’t worry.”
Bem pushes him away and rises up.
“Sensei,” he chokes, hands on Hotts’s chest, clinging to him. “I can’t-I can’t do it.”
Outside, it has started raining.
His skin cracks and Hotta takes him in his arms and rocks him gently. He runs his fingers through Bem’s hair and kisses his nape, whispering comforting words into his ears.
“I loved him.”
“Sensei, let me touch you.”
Hotta’s eyes widen. He cups Bem’s face in his palms and shakes his head lightly.
“No,” he denies Bem. “You don’t have to do it.”
Bem raises himself a little and kisses Hotta.
“I want to.”
“Bem-“
He silences Hotta with a kiss.
Outside, it’s still raining.
Passion is a coping mechanism. Passion comes in when a breaking point is reached, when love hurts too much.
Passion can help, but passion can’t fix.
Hotta takes Bem’s hand and kisses it, then guides it into his pants. Bem lets out a small gasp.
“It will be alright,” Hotta says. “Everything will be alright.”
They kiss again, this time Bem presses harder and deeper. Hotta holds him protectively in his arm.
“Just stroke it,” he requests into Bem’s ears.
“Sensei, I-“
Hotta kisses his nape. “Don’t say anything. Just touch me.”
Bem shifts so that he’s sitting on top of Hotta and straddles him slowly, hand still working on his cock. Hotta’s tongue trails his body, jolting his senses awake. Bem grabs Hotta’s hair and grips the back of his head, determined to finish what was started.
Hotta gets hard in no time and whimpers. “Faster.”
Bem throws his head back. He should be fine, should be able to keep himself in control, should be able to stop his body from losing itself.
“I will be alright,” he says, echoing Hotta’s words and quickening his pace. He strokes him faster and harder and he finds his own bulge throbbing as well. “Sensei-“
There’s a hand touching him now, touching him there, and he groans from the sudden arousal. His nails tighten their grip and dig into Hotta’s neck, and Hotta screams in pain.
Bem wants to stop there, but he needs Hotta’s touch and he needs to see Hotta climax. He can’t let go. Not yet.
“Sensei-“
“Don’t stop!”
Hotta’s panting and starting to stroke Bem.
“I will scream,” he grunts, “but we will be alright.”
Bem’s fingers press down to Hotta’s back. The cracks are going to come.
“Faster,” Hotta breathes.
A few more strokes and Hotta screams in pleasure. His voice resonates inside Bem’s ears, sending him into an overdrive.
The cracks start forming and Hotta hugs him tightly. “You can do it.”
“I can’t,” Bem says. He wants to fight it, but it doesn’t seem like he can.
“Let it out.”
“Sensei,” Bem cries. His eyes are turning black, his fangs are showing, and his body is deforming.
“Come for me.”
“I can’t,” Bem sobs, biting Hotta’s shoulder, making him scream again.
“Bem,” Hotta’s words tremble as he steels his body against the pain, “I-I-“
Something inside Bem feels like it just exploded and he lets go of Hotta’s shoulder.
“I love you.”
Outside, the thunder roars. Inside, Bem howls.
Bela feels warm as Bem sleeps next to her.
He drifts into a deep sleep and dreams about the sunny day when he lies on the seaside, watching the sunrise with Bela and Belo.
Passion comes with love, but passion also brings out the ugliest in him.
Bem’s passion can be a weapon.
“Sensei,” he calls when he meets him in the same spot in the park the next day.
Hotta turns around and smiles. “I have been expecting you.”
“Really?”
Hotta pulls Bem’s hand and holds it lightly. “Do you want to come to my house?”
“Why?”
Hotta laughs and Bem is transported back in time. Back to the time when he was hopelessly in love with him, when everything Hotta did and said made his heart soar.
“Just because.”
Humans are born. Humans grow up. Humans get married. Humans have babies. Humans grow old. Humans die.
Hotta has to do all of these.
Fifty years ago, Bem fell in love.
He has not fallen out of it.
Humans kiss and their world brightens. Humans say “I love you” and these words mean more than a diamond.
Humans make love and the rest of the world fades to black.
Bem can’t do any of these.
Hotta’s coffee still tastes a little too bitter.
His house is far tidier than the small, tiny little office in the hospital he used to work in. There are pictures hanging around the house; of his wife, his son, his daughter, his extended family, his friends. There are books and electronic devices. There are musical instruments and printouts of his daughter’s many photoshoots.
Hotta’s house is a journey, a history, a memoir.
Bem’s not in any of them.
“I should go.”
Time can heal. Humans can heal.
Bem can’t heal because time doesn’t affect him.
Twenty-two years ago, Junnosuke left the sanctuary of his father’s house to build a family with his then-bride-to-be, Mariko.
Twenty years ago, Karin moved to France and married a British designer.
Five years ago, Rena was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer.
Two years ago, Rena’s cancer reached terminal stage and she asked Hotta to place her in a hospice. Hotta had wept and begged his wife to fight, but she convinced him, saying that she had fulfilled her life and Hotta should be happy on her behalf.
A year ago, Rena passed away in Hotta’s arm.
Bem hardly misses any detail of Hotta’s life.
Hotta is getting married today.
The sun shines brightly outside, but it snows inside Bem.
“No,” Hotta says, hands pulling Bem to stop him from leaving.
Bem’s eyes meet Hotta's. They are just as determined as he has last remembered them.
“Why?”
Hotta doesn’t answer. Instead, he pulls Bem closer to his chest for a hug.
“I should ask you why.”
Bem drops his stick.
“Sensei-“
“Why did you have to leave?”
Bem hates winter the most.
“You left me with nothing to remember you with,” Hotta says.
It has never stopped snowing since the day Hotta got married.
Bem has found his way back into Hotta’s arms, but all he can think about is how broken Hotta sounded.
It feels like time hasn’t healed him.
Sometimes Bem watches Hotta and wonders if he remembers him.
“I remember everything about you,” Bem says.
The way he smells, the way he tucks his hair, the way he pushes his glasses up his nose.
Everything.
Maybe it’s best that Hotta completely forgets him.
“Stay.”
However, admitting to himself that he doesn’t want Hotta to ever forget him is the hardest thing ever.
“Stay with me.”
Bela and Belo hold him as he lies awake at night, resisting the urge to release and transform.
“Please.”
Belo tells him that a normal Japanese human has about ninety to a hundred years to live. Twenty of their earlier years would be used to grow up, the next forty years would be used to earn as much as they can, and then the next thirty to forty years would be used to grow old and die.
Bem, Bela, and Belo have had more than average humans and they have spent all those years together.
“He wouldn’t have much longer, Bem,” Belo says, “maybe you should make him happy.”
“And yourself too,” Bela adds, patting his back. “Be happy with him.”
Bem smiles.
“We will be here.”
Hotta’s arms are warm, his kisses are soft and his touches tender.
The snow inside him starts to thaw.
Love should have been beautiful.
“Love is remembering someone forever, even when they leave you with nothing,” Hotta says when Bem asks him why he didn’t forget him. There’s no bitterness in his voice, just wistfulness and nostalgia.
Hotta tells him about many things; about Rena (“Do you know that she had laughed when I proposed to her?”), about Junnosuke (“He was so lame as a child, he thought nobody wanted to be his friend.”), about Karin (“She was only ten when she stole Rena’s eyeliner and wore it to school, can you imagine that?”), about his patients and fellow researchers (“Remember the woman who was going to heal from cancer but died suddenly? Her sister took her place in the National Cancer Centre.”), and about Bem (“I have always thought of you as one of the most beautiful persons I have ever seen.”).
He tells Bem that he’s glad that Bem doesn’t age.
“To me, you’re like poetry came alive,” he says as they kiss. “I’m lucky to have loved you.”
“Sensei,” Bem whispers.
They link their fingers together, watching the sunset on top of a mountain.
“I love you,” Bem says.
Hotta finds his eyes and Bem sees the sun rising in them.
Love is beautiful.
*