[Uraboku] Bruises and Bitemarks (3/?)
Title: Bruises and Bitemarks
Author: masanami
Character(s): Hotsuma/Shusei, mentions of Senshirou/Kuroto, Takashiro, Tachibana, and others
Word Count: 6,200
Rating: R
Warnings: Host AU. Suggestive material.
Summary: Shusei's the perfect host and Hotsuma's the perfect person to ruin everything for him.
Author's Note: Sorry for the delay in getting this out! I unfortunately ended up having to re-write this chapter because of some plotting issues orz
He’s never been to this place before.
Or no-that’s not quite right. There have been places like this before-sidewalks lit by the faint glow of streetlights, leafs that whistle with the incoming breeze, a jungle of buildings that twinkle in the sky like stars that can’t be hidden by the canopy of trees that encase the surroundings. It’s a park, a simple and small place, a little hidden haven inside the concrete city and it’s skyscrapers, streets, and subways-and it’s a place wonderfully deserted on this particular night when all other creatures of the day have scurried away to their comfortable hiding places during the midnight hours.
It’s cold but not quite chilly, and Shusei could hear the rumble of pebbles shifting underneath his feet each time he took a step.
He may have been here before-but it doesn’t feel the same. He’s got a buzz from all the liquor but he’s walking straight and he’s seeing clearly-and each step he takes somehow undoubtedly takes him one step further. Earlier in the night there had been the club-the women, the drinks, the music blaring in the background-but now it was gone. It was silent save for the whistling of branches, the crunch of footsteps, the gentle sound of Hotsuma breathing beside him.
The other man may not be that much taller than him but it felt like Hotsuma’s towering over him. He blocked out the light from the lamp-posts marking the park’s path and all Shusei could see is the casting glow that drifts around his head like a halo.
He’s forgotten how long they’ve wandered like this, side by side, with nothing but silence quivering in the space between them. It’s not an uncomfortable silence, but it’s tangible and they both can feel the weight of the world and the words they aren’t speaking between them. It felt like he’s lost track of the number of days that Hotsuma has been in his life-could swear it’s felt like a lifetime but it may have only been a few days, a week, maybe a little more. It doesn’t really matter either way, time isn’t something that Shusei has ever held much regard for. Days have always passed the same for him.
The only thing that matters to Shusei is the moment. And in this moment he’s walking with Hotsuma and there’s nothing else surrounding them; it’s just them and the midnight air and the sounds of birds chirping somewhere in the distance and maybe the meow of a stray cat curling up under the shelter of a park bench.
The silence is only broken when Hotsuma yawned. “It feels so late!” His words stretched out over the mumble in his voice, arms raised over his head and stretching.
“This is early for me.” And it was-because it was still dark out and the world hadn’t begun to wake quite yet. The faint glow of the streetlights is enough for Shusei to glance at Hotsuma out of the corner of his eyes-watching how the light caught in his blonde hair and made the glimmer in his eyes a bit stronger. They're walking shoulder to shoulder, fingers reaching so close they could almost brush-but they don’t-not quite at least. There’s still a hair’s breath of distance between them, a space that felt like both a valley and a thread. Shusei’s more than aware that it’s taking up too much of his focus. He’s far too aware of every time Hotsuma leaned a little bit closer to him, how he wanted that contact and connection.
But he knew better than to give away everything all at once-to just take that hand and hold it in his palm.
That’s the secret to being a host after all. It’s all about slowly teasing everything out-the conversation, the physical contact, the emotional connection-it’s what kept the women coming back for more, for the promise that if they keep trying they will get more and more. This time there will be a more intimate touch, a more deeply whispered promise, a secret that holds the truth of the future on the cusp of its foundation.
Hotsuma may have been coming back to the club and he may have been grasping onto the string that Shusei was pulling-but was Shusei really teasing that string out slowly?
Only an hour ago he had been at the club and there Hotsuma had been, sitting at one of the back tables near the bar with his foot propped up on the small table and dissatisfaction written all over his face.
“What’s wrong?” He’d asked, innocently enough.
“Let’s get out of here.”
“Don’t you think that’s a bit much to ask?”
“I just want…to get out of here with you.”
It had been his third time coming to the bar in the last week-always stopping after class, with a book bag slung over one shoulder. On this night he showed up with nothing but empty hands and a smile that only reached his lips when Shusei came to greet him. When he smiled it lit up every dark corner in Shusei’s world.
Shusei found it impossible to not be swayed away by that smile.
And here they were now-in some nameless park, walking down a pebble-lined path in the middle of the night. The women that he may have disappointed by leaving work early are only a quickly fading memory streaming through the depth of his consciousness-because Hotsuma is here and Hotsuma has a habit of taking over all his thoughts.
Hotsuma never asked if he would get in trouble for leaving just like that and Shusei never bothered to ask why Hotsuma felt the need to leave. They both just followed one another, maybe trying to create some fragile kind of trust, or at least give into the want of a world without neon lights and the taste of liquor hanging in the air. Hotsuma never kept it a secret that he didn’t like the atmosphere of Kabuchiko-he wore his thoughts on his sleeve, all disgruntled huffs and grimaces. He didn’t like the women that came in with make up covering their faces, wearing it like a mask painted over flesh. He stayed away from them even if they tried to talk to him, instead lingering by the bar or one of the back rooms or maybe even just waiting outside until Shusei found a moment to breathe.
Whenever they slipped out of the club it was late but not quite late enough to call morning. In Kabuchiko there were those still wandering the streets covered in waves of darkness and tumultuous clouds known as the dark seeds of the red light district. Those shadows stir in Kabuchiko but Hotsuma was waiting outside for him just like promised, bathed in the safety of the streetlights, when Shusei had breathlessly agreed to leave with him. When they’re both finally standing in front of the club with hands shoved into their coat pockets and heels rocking, neither are really sure where to go from here.
“Let’s walk.” It’s Shusei’s suggestion that finally broke the moment of silence. Even though he’s the one that mentioned it, Hotsuma’s the one that’s leading them. Their shoulders are almost brushing against each other as they walk down the streets and words aren’t exchanged but Shusei’s too busy studying the way Hotsuma’s hair fell so perfectly around his face to really pay attention to something as small as spoken words.
It wasn’t Shusei that had chosen the park and neither was it Shusei who led them from the red light district-it was more like inertia was pulling them in one direction and they were hapless to stop it. When Kabuchiko faded away and the streets became dimmer the world seemed to cast itself further away with the distance of each footstep. It was just them, the sound of their steps on pebble-lined pavement, and the occasional shriek of tires against asphalt. The world outside the red light district was deceptively quiet on this night.
The park itself wasn’t very big but at this hour it’s just big enough for the two of them. Even though there’s more than enough space for them to walk Hotsuma slung an arm around his shoulder and tugged him into the corner of his chest. Shusei kept his hands in the pockets of his jacket and let his body lean into Hotsuma’s warmth.
Hotsuma started talking but he doesn’t really say much. It’s absent minded things that are annoying him; having to work more hours at his job, the extra assignments for classes he’ll never finish. He says all these things like he always does when they're together and Shusei just stayed silent and listened, maybe nods or maybe sometimes chides, but mostly he just let himself become absorbed in the cadence of Hotsuma’s speech. Being a host has made him a good listener, but this still isn’t quite the same. His veins don’t pulsate with the rhythm of other’s people speech. It doesn’t feel like his body needs Hotsuma’s words to keep beating and breathing.
It amazed him, even now, under the cover of such lateness, how easy it was to give into these feelings. The first time he had realized there was something there-it had hit him with this crushing and maddening fear. Fear of an unknown sensation that was slithering it’s way through his very being, crushing the space around his heart, piercing his lungs until it was hard to breathe. He thought he could somehow control it-suppress these feelings-but each and every time he gazed up at Hotsuma those feelings flickered to the forefront of his consciousness and he was powerless-just powerless to stop them.
Instead he just learned to ignore them.
Even if the proximity of Hotsuma made a shudder crawl it's way down his spine, Shusei pretended it was nothing. He didn't deny it, he just chose not to act on those feelings that fluttered beyond his eyelids. He kept his distance from Hotsuma even if it felt like the last thing he wanted to do-tried to protect himself but keep up the pretenses he had built and the relationship they had mended between them. He told himself over and over again that this was only natural-that he was a host and host’s were allowed to feel and breathe-but somehow this felt different, it felt as if the flames that burst from Hotsuma were the only things able to melt the coldness of his soul. It made him slip, forget that he needed to hold Hotsuma at arm’s length, allowed moments like these-when he let his emotions fail him and Hotsuma's words found a way to sway him all the way to the foundation of his being.
He didn’t know what to do when this happened-how to balance the tables between this identity he had developed around Hotsuma and the reality he knew and understood. Hotsuma had a way of making all the preconceptions he so intricately understood crumble to pieces inbetween his clenched fingers.
“Shusei.” It’s Hotsuma’s voice pulling him back into the world. “You’re spacing out again, aren’t you? Am I boring you or something?”
“You’re being ridiculous, Hotsuma.”
“Eh?”
Shusei turned toward him, eyes closing a little as he smiled. “Thinking that you’d ever bore me.”
“Shusei…”
“…should we keep walking?”
This isn’t like you, Shusei.
“Nah, let’s sit down for a minute.”
…is there something going on-something more going on between you and Hotsuma? You know, that would be okay…it’s okay for you to genuinely like someone.
There’s a bench underneath one of the lamps where Hotsuma plopped down with a heavy thud. It shook on old hinges and creaked with giving pieces of worn wood. Shusei stood in front of him, looking down at Hotsuma and feeling the weight of his arms that hung so loosely at his side. They feel like dead weight.
“Sit down, Shusei.”
Sitting down would be by far the easiest thing to do when Tachibana’s words are still ringing in his head. He looked down at Hotsuma and his lips curled upward in the corners, slightly narrowed eyes gazing down at the other man as he reached out a hand and played his fingers through his hair. Hotsuma’s eyes closed against his touch-as he stroked his fingers along the base of his skull, along the curve following his ear, brushing his wrist against the metal jewelry he wore.
Go ahead and leave early. It’s slow tonight anyway. Shu-kun…just try to relax a bit.
He leaned down with that one hand finally cupping underneath Hotsuma’s chin and tilting the other man’s face upward.
Shusei wondered if it always happened so effortlessly-if allowing himself to fall into the clutches of Hotsuma’s embrace was something he could have ever really have stopped. He thought it may have happened the morning when Hotsuma had been waiting for him outside the bar-or maybe after, maybe the first time after that morning when Hotsuma had come into the bar and Shusei felt that crushing pound against his rib cage.
But none of that really mattered in the end-because now he was here and he was looking down at Hotsuma’s face and finding himself completely lost.
“Open your eyes, Hotsuma.” And Hotsuma did, slowly, as if he were waking up from a comfortable dream-and when he did Shusei pressed their lips together.
It was a delicate kiss. Just a gentle brush of lips, a tender exchange of heat with a bit of added pressure. Hotsuma gave to him easily-mouth opening in a slight part and tongue licking along the soft folds of moist flesh.
He wasn’t sure if it was the warmth of Hotsuma’s lips or the cold breeze that fluttered underneath his coat, but suddenly Shusei felt as if he needed to get away from this place.
“Let’s get out of here.” Shusei said, echoing Hotsuma’s earlier words.
“Okay.”
Shusei can’t be sure if the gaze he saw lying in the depths of Hotsuma’s eyes is a burning desire of his own being reflected back or Hotsuma’s-all he knew for sure was that he could feel the lust between them shaking him all the way to his bones.
Hotsuma seemed to understand well enough and when they get up this time and walk they both know where this road will lead them. There aren’t pretenses anymore, just hesitancy charging the air between them.
And Shusei’s powerless to stop-could not stop it even if he wanted to-because Hotsuma is slowly cracking the foundation around him and it feels as if he’s always been destined to fall.
He’ll fall no matter how hard he gripes the edges and tries to keep the pieces together.
++++
They come into the apartment pushing against one another.
Shusei’s fingers are wrapped in the folds of Hotsuma’s coat, and Hotsuma has one hand on his shoulder and the other is trying to pull the key from the door’s lock-finding it difficult when Shusei’s lips are pressed against the curve of his jawline and nipping at the soft tissue of his earlobe. Shusei can hear the groan he’s trying to resist when he finally jams the key from the lock and the door begins to close behind them.
When the door clicked close Hotsuma’s arms are around him, gripping him, pulling him into his chest with a forceful drag. Shusei could feel his hot breath on the collar of his shirt, in the sharp intake of air when Shusei’s hands touched his hips and teased his fingertips under the hem of Hotsuma's shirt. Everything he does is by feel because the room is dark and Shusei can’t really see anything once the door’s closed-it’s too dark in the apartment’s interior-but there’s enough spatial awareness in him to know that this apartment is too big for a single person in Hotsuma’s standing to afford.
“Roommate?” He asked breathlessly.
Hotsuma nodded and Shusei let himself be led into the bedroom once they abandon their shoes by the front door. Once they are safely nestled within the smaller room, Hotsuma’s socked foot pushed the door closed. There’s no one to disturb them now.
He’s still not quite sure if it’s a good idea but he knows himself and he knows that look in Hotsuma’s eyes, and there’s no way either of them will be able to stop what they’ve begun. Maybe he always knew this would happen-knew it the very moment he tasted those dangerous lips on that first night-in a look that could not be swayed by forcefulness or pushed affection. Hotsuma acted like he was unsure and careful, but the moment they touched one another it all slipped away. He became just as needy as Shusei felt but kept carefully hidden.
They don’t make it to the bed before Shusei pushed Hotsuma against the closed door’s frame. Hotsuma hit the door with a thud but doesn’t say anything-doesn’t even seem to care because Hotsuma’s lips are on him and his fingers are pulling off his jacket at the same time they are raking across his chest. Hotsuma slid down to the door’s foundation, taking them both down with him. His fingers are a palpable pressure on Shusei’s back as Shusei straddled him across his lap and took his head into his hands and guided those lips into a deepening kiss.
It’s tongue and saliva and moistened breath beating like thudding heartbeats in the back of his throat. Hotsuma’s warmth consumes him even if he can’t see him-even if he’s only feeling in the darkness of the room that swells around them. It’s all taste and touch-and it doesn’t even matter because his eyes are closed and all he can think about is the bulge in Hotsuma’s pants and the way it’s resting right against where he’s straddling and how knowing-just knowing Hotsuma felt this way is enough to ignite a fire in the pit of his stomach.
“Shu…sei…” He kissed Hotsuma’s jawline, leaving a trail of delicate wisps that whisper across Hotsuma’s earlobe and all the earrings and metal that cover them.
“We should-“ Silence when Shusei’s lips catch Hotsuma’s in a kiss before he slid down between Hotsuma’s thighs. He can feel the sharp intake of air that Hotsuma inhales-the way his abdomen jolted inward and the rush of air that rustles the tips of Shusei’s brown hair. He can feel Hotsuma’s eyes hovering over him when he reached for the clasp of the other man’s belt and started to tug it lose.
But Hotsuma’s hand reached over his own, stopping him-stopping him with trembling fingers.
“No, Shusei…” Hotsuma’s voice is ragged, more a breathy whisper spoken in fragility. “I’m still…not sure about all of this.”
Shusei let go of the belt buckle and looked at Hotsuma-just stared at him as he leaned over him. His breathing was heavy but not quite a pant, and he could feel his own need as a firming pressure in his slacks, and it was hard to think when Hotsuma’s looking at him with those half-lidded eyes and trying to speak firmly but the words are only coming out as whispers. Shusei shook his fingers free from Hotsuma’s grasp and Hotsuma’s hand flopped to his side, hitting the ground with a light thud. He leaned over the other man, raising a finger to gingerly place over Hotsuma’s lips. “Shhhh Hotsuma, just let me…just let yourself enjoy it.”
He reached for the belt again, this time meeting little resistance. It clicked open easily, the sound of metal slithering against leather filling the silence between them.
He’s on his knees in front of Hotsuma now. His hand is on the waist band above his pants, just sitting there right where the hip bone jolts out. There’s Hotsuma looking at him, watching him as he stares up at him through thick eyelashes that blink at the open mouth, the parted lips that are still moist from their kiss. There’s not much air moving in the space between them-like they're both holding their breath and just waiting for one to tell the other to stop-to con some sense into their actions-to just fix whatever miscommunication is going on between them.
Because Shusei knew this was all wrong.
It’s wrong to act like he’s any other person when he knows, he just knows-Hotsuma isn’t just anybody. He is better than this sick act that’s he’s trying to do-than pleasing him the only way he knew how.
But he doesn’t know better and he’s lost and there’s only the miserable mess of mistakes he’s always made guiding him down this path-the act of sexual gratification being the only way he knows how to share what he’s feeling with Hotsuma-because isn’t this what they always wanted? All the women wanted the same thing in the end, maybe even more-so than all the other promises he would whisper to him. Lust, desire-they have a way of clouding everything. But here’s Hotsuma-so different from all the others-and the only thing that can come to Shusei’s mind is the dirty act he’s trying to perform. His hands felt filthy and sullen, darkness and decay stuck underneath his fingernails and marring everything pure that may or may not have been there-not caring what he’s trying to do because nothing will wash away this feeling.
He’s afraid to even try. Afraid of the consequences that his actions will take even if his willpower is deserting him.
Because the moment-that single moment that Hotsuma has everything of him-in that moment will he no longer be needed?
He’s seen it happen so many other times-to himself and to other hosts. They aren’t immune to the charms of their own profession-to the love that dangles itself before their eyes on every night and on every special occasion. But it’s when that love is given, when a piece of him is spread out and open-it’s always in those moments that he seals his fate in ending whatever connection has been made. It’s not as if he’s ever felt this way with someone else-as if he’s ever really attempted to give himself up so openly to a lust that’s far stronger than anything he’s ever felt before-but it’s the fact that giving in will conquer him. It will create a set of mistakes that he will never be able to erase, cut the ties of whatever foundation he may or may not have laid. It will end everything yet he felt powerless to stop himself.
Senshirou and Kuroto flash into the back of his mind. He wanted to think that maybe there’s a chance he can be like them-maybe he can make something out of the lies; wrap them up tightly, present them with a bow-and maybe still that other person will love him. But he knew there was a problem with that scenario because he’s not Kuroto or Senshirou-just a person who woke up one morning thinking there might be a flicker of a reason to live shimmering behind another man’s golden amber eyes.
Shusei untangled himself from Hotsuma’s embrace and took a moment to soak up his surroundings-to sit up and stand up and just take a moment to focus on something else other than the swelling of fear that’s welling in his chest. There’s books shoved on the floor in the far corner of the room-textbooks judging by their size and width-clothes thrown across the floor, a television and gaming consoles-a desk that looks like it hasn’t been touched in ages. The bed is pushed against the far wall aside a window that streams in moonlight through it’s billowing curtains. The bed’s in disarray, sheets clumsy pulled up and covered but not really made-just messily put into a place resembling where they are meant to be.
“Shusei…” He can hear the sound of Hotsuma standing, of him putting his belt back into place.
The sound of the belt buckle closing is so tremendously coated in such finality.
He turned toward Hotsuma’s voice and he’s standing there in the darker part of the room so that Shusei can’t really see the way the moonlight is playing on his face-just how his hair caught glimmers of light off the tips of the golden strands.
“Come here, Hotsuma.” He said with a hand outstretched. His eyes squint and a smile curves the corner of his lips when Hotsuma slowly takes a step forward. He hides all that doubt and insecurity in the faraway corners of his mind.
Hotsuma stepped into the light and Shusei can finally see him more clearly. There’s a tentative trepidation in his movements, a heightened hesitancy that is sitting somewhere between pulsating restraint and explosion. Shusei couldn’t help but think it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his life. Hotsuma seems anything but fragile-uncertain, weary, maybe a little apprehensive-but also filled with vitality and life. When he looked up and met Shusei’s eyes, when they really gaze at each other through the backdrop of a messy and dark room, Shusei can feel it. It’s like a gentle hum that fills the space between them, that keeps Hotsuma taking another step forward until they’re standing right in front of each other.
Shusei wondered if he should be upset-he imagined it would be a normal reaction when one offers himself to another man and is rejected-but he can’t find it in himself to feel such an emotion against Hotsuma. He's afraid to let himself feel anything other than his undeniable longing for the warmth that Hotsuma sets in his soul.
Hotsuma stepped closer and reached up a hand, pauses for only a moment, before running his fingers through the soft strands of Shusei’s brown hair. Shusei closed his eyes against the touch, wants to lean into the feel of Hotsuma's fingers pressed along his skull, but doesn’t-just stands there and let’s Hotsuma have his way with him-have him in any way he wants.
It felt like there are words sitting on the edge of Hotsuma’s lips but the other man doesn’t say them-he just sat on the edge of the bed and pulled Shusei toward him, so that he can wrap his arms around his waist and rest his head against the softness of his slender abdomen.
“Shusei…what’s wrong?” Shusei can feel the murmur of Hotsuma’s lips against his abdomen when he spoke, the tightened grip of those arms, the long sigh.
“I’m fine, Hotsuma.” He wanted to put his fingers through Hotsuma’s hair but he can’t-can’t do anything but let his arm rest like dead weights at his side.
“You’re not.” A momentary pause filled by the intake of air. “Don’t try lying or covering it up. What’s wrong with you?”
“I’m just thinking…”
“Thinking so much that you look like you’re in pain? And what was that there, Shusei? You don’t need to do that for me…”
“Really?” A long breath. “For me…this is what I know.” He’s being as honest as he’s ever been. These words aren’t drenched in lies, just fingers clenching into trembling fists at his side. “Did you think it would be any other way?”
Shusei regretted the words the moment they left his lips because he doesn’t think Hotsuma will understand. Maybe it shouldn’t have surprised him when Hotsuma let him go and stood-pushing him away so that Shusei had to step back and find his equilibrium on his own.
“I need something to drink.” They were words spoken over murmuring lips before Hotsuma was gone.
And then Shusei was alone.
He needed to sit and the bed where Hotsuma had been moments ago was the only thing available. He fell upon the soft sheets heavily, his hair tossed and fanning around to frame his face. He inhaled Hotsuma’s scent on these sheets, fingers tightening their grip into the comforter, trying to ease the pounding against his ribs.
His heart felt empty and it was hard to breathe. He felt like something was stuck in his lungs, something that left his lungs aching for oxygen, made his eyes water in pain. These feelings were so foreign and unknown to him that he didn’t know what to do with them-what the right course of action was, what could ease the burden of their presence in his life. He didn’t want Hotsuma to see him as a host but that was all he was-it was everything that made him what he was-he didn’t know any other way to be or act, it was simply a matter of what made his very existence.
Shusei closed his eyes. Maybe he was a fool for believing that he could somehow control or contain Hotsuma-that he could take his feelings and bottle them up and swear that he could somehow keep them buried in the depths of his heart.
Hotsuma had asked him what was wrong-and Shusei had been sure he had felt the same thumping vitality and lust in Hotsuma’s gaze-but had he been wrong?
Did Hotsuma even really see him or was Hotsuma seeing right through everything?
Kabuchiko flashed in the back of Shusei’s eyelids. It’s neon lights may be gaudy but they are familiar and they are something Shusei knew-something he’s grown up with for the last several years when Takashiro took him from an empty life and gave him something to believe in. It wasn’t a glamorous life but it was a enough for him, enough to keep him moving and breathing and just living through each day. The women showed him affection and in return he showed them a measure of love, and when it was all said and done he learned to see what they wanted-how to bend to their will but still make them his own.
But Hotsuma wasn’t like these women. He moved with a gruff forcefulness that was nothing fined or elegant-but all rough around the edges. He kissed him with such passion and lust that Shusei was sure he knew just what he wanted-but when Shusei tried to do it he pushed him away-turned away his advances so simply and easily.
Shusei couldn’t bend to Hotsuma’s will-couldn’t even see what the other man really wanted.
Pushing himself up to his elbows, Shusei stared at the open door and the darkened apartment beyond. Somewhere in that darkness was Hotsuma-but there was also an exit as well-a way out of this place and situation-this confusion that had bubbled up and destroyed everything he had ever known. He wanted to let go and just leave but Shusei knew that was impossible. He was already tangled too far into the game he had developed with Hotsuma-in the lies and the ties and all the lost words between them.
It took some effort but Shusei finally stood and walked into that darkness, letting it fold around him and pull him in.
He didn’t find Hotsuma in the kitchen. He wasn’t holding a drink or looking through the fridge-he was standing beside the window in the living room and staring through the small slit in the curtain. Shusei could imagine what he saw-the city lights blinking in the distance, the people that still meandered the streets-the still quiet of the night. He turned when he heard him approach, when the soft patter of socked feet was enough to draw Hotsuma from his thoughts. Hotsuma crossed his arms over his chest and watched as Shusei approached him. They were both silent, maybe because they knew they weren’t alone in this apartment, or maybe just because neither knew what to say.
“You weren’t thirsty?” Shusei finally whispered.
“Tch.”
“Don’t do that…” He reached out a hand, using a single finger to trace a line straight down Hotsuma’s brow. “It makes a wrinkle…right there.”
“I don’t know what to do with you.” Hotsuma admitted as he reached for those fingers that had just drawn across his face, taking them into his palm and pressing them to his lips. “I care about you…but…”
“Why are you thinking so hard?” Shusei stepped in closer-so close that he could feel the heat of Hotsuma’s breath brushing against his skin. “Don’t turn this into-“
“-into what? Something that it’s not? Don’t you even care Shusei?”
“I care about you, Hotsuma.” He pulled apart Hotsuma’s crossed arms, forced his way into his embrace. “I care about you.” Words just a whisper off of bruised lips, a face buried against Hotsuma’s chest.
But Hotsuma didn’t hold him, didn’t put his arms around him, just let his arms dangle at his sides like useless extensions of his body. “You could have fooled me.” His voice was growing in volume but he didn’t see to be aware-or maybe he just didn’t care. “I have eyes-I can see the way you are.”
“The way I am…?”
“The way you treat those women-whispering to them, leaning against them, touching them…I know this is what you are-I get that-but I don't want to be just another one of them.” Hotsuma’s fingers gripped his shoulders, fingernails digging into the soft skin of his shoulder as he pulled Shusei away from his chest enough to gaze down in his eyes. “What am I to you?”
Shusei felt words leave him, the intensity of Hotsuma’s gaze consuming his vision and his mind. In his chest, his heart was beating erratically.
“Shusei…”
“You…you are all I think about.”
“What does that even mean? I’m being serious, Shusei.”
“So am I.”
He thought back to days ago and the first time he saw Hotsuma after he realized something had profoundly changed in him. There had been the first few moments when Shusei had seen Hotsuma come into the club and take a seat at the bar-because a room in the back, he said later, felt too uncomfortable-and Shusei had simply stared at him from across the room. The woman he was entertaining playfully hit his shoulder, trying to regain his focus but it was impossible-impossible when his gaze was so rigidly fixed on Hotsuma. He watched as Hotsuma stood there at the bar, one hand in the pocket of his pants as he ordered a drink from the bartender and waited. He just waited, knowing Shusei would find him and come for him, and of course Shusei did.
“You came.” Shusei had said when he finally approached him.
“I said I would.”
“I’m glad.” He had whispered, the soft syllables brushing off his lips so low that Hotsuma didn’t hear him when he turned to order him a drink from the bartender.
His heart is aching right in this moment as it had back then. There’s almost a trembling urgency he felt to touch Hotsuma-to grasp his hand, run his fingers through his hair-to do anything at all that will abolish the space between them. But he doesn’t do anything at all-he just breathes, in and out, slow deep breaths that somehow-somehow seem to slow his heartbeat.
Because he remembered how disgruntled and flustered Hotsuma had been these last few nights-how he waited at the bar more often than at a table-at a place where he could survey the whole room of the club and see just exactly where Shusei was all the time.
“Do you want me to leave?” It’s Shusei who asks the question because he’s the one that brought them to this place, even if he’s terrified of his answer, of admitting how he foolishly missed everything Hotsuma was feeling. Hotsuma may have led their steps but Shusei has led their actions because he’s the one whose left work early, who suggested they walk, who finally suggest they go back to Hotsuma’s place. Maybe Hotsuma has thought he’s the one making the decisions but Shusei’s learned enough about Hotsuma in these last few meetings to see that Hotsuma is just as oblivious as he sounds-he’ll miss the point completely if Shusei doesn’t walk him to it.
If Hotsuma needs this out-needs this reason to toss him aside then Shusei will give it to him. He won’t pollute the air that Hotsuma breathes if that’s what he wants.
The lights have gone out.
Hotsuma closed the curtain, silencing the final strip of light that had illuminated them with a small tug. It’s nothing but darkness now and Shusei can’t see but he can feel Hotsuma’s breath-so much more steady and sure than his own.
“I’ll ask you one more time…what am I to you, Shusei? I don’t want to go down this path with nothing but lies piecing us together. Answer me honestly.”
There wasn’t any hesitation, not really, just the sharp intake of oxygen to begin his words. “You are my everything.”
Hotsuma’s arms curled around him and pull him into his chest. Sometimes it’s easier to ignore all the foul things when they are presented in packages of suits, styled hair, and glittering lights. But Shusei doesn’t hold any false pretenses about what he is-about the things that will never change.
“Then stay.” It’s all Hotsuma has to say, words mumbled into his hair.
It amazed Shusei how simply and effortlessly it came to this point.
Author: masanami
Character(s): Hotsuma/Shusei, mentions of Senshirou/Kuroto, Takashiro, Tachibana, and others
Word Count: 6,200
Rating: R
Warnings: Host AU. Suggestive material.
Summary: Shusei's the perfect host and Hotsuma's the perfect person to ruin everything for him.
Author's Note: Sorry for the delay in getting this out! I unfortunately ended up having to re-write this chapter because of some plotting issues orz
He’s never been to this place before.
Or no-that’s not quite right. There have been places like this before-sidewalks lit by the faint glow of streetlights, leafs that whistle with the incoming breeze, a jungle of buildings that twinkle in the sky like stars that can’t be hidden by the canopy of trees that encase the surroundings. It’s a park, a simple and small place, a little hidden haven inside the concrete city and it’s skyscrapers, streets, and subways-and it’s a place wonderfully deserted on this particular night when all other creatures of the day have scurried away to their comfortable hiding places during the midnight hours.
It’s cold but not quite chilly, and Shusei could hear the rumble of pebbles shifting underneath his feet each time he took a step.
He may have been here before-but it doesn’t feel the same. He’s got a buzz from all the liquor but he’s walking straight and he’s seeing clearly-and each step he takes somehow undoubtedly takes him one step further. Earlier in the night there had been the club-the women, the drinks, the music blaring in the background-but now it was gone. It was silent save for the whistling of branches, the crunch of footsteps, the gentle sound of Hotsuma breathing beside him.
The other man may not be that much taller than him but it felt like Hotsuma’s towering over him. He blocked out the light from the lamp-posts marking the park’s path and all Shusei could see is the casting glow that drifts around his head like a halo.
He’s forgotten how long they’ve wandered like this, side by side, with nothing but silence quivering in the space between them. It’s not an uncomfortable silence, but it’s tangible and they both can feel the weight of the world and the words they aren’t speaking between them. It felt like he’s lost track of the number of days that Hotsuma has been in his life-could swear it’s felt like a lifetime but it may have only been a few days, a week, maybe a little more. It doesn’t really matter either way, time isn’t something that Shusei has ever held much regard for. Days have always passed the same for him.
The only thing that matters to Shusei is the moment. And in this moment he’s walking with Hotsuma and there’s nothing else surrounding them; it’s just them and the midnight air and the sounds of birds chirping somewhere in the distance and maybe the meow of a stray cat curling up under the shelter of a park bench.
The silence is only broken when Hotsuma yawned. “It feels so late!” His words stretched out over the mumble in his voice, arms raised over his head and stretching.
“This is early for me.” And it was-because it was still dark out and the world hadn’t begun to wake quite yet. The faint glow of the streetlights is enough for Shusei to glance at Hotsuma out of the corner of his eyes-watching how the light caught in his blonde hair and made the glimmer in his eyes a bit stronger. They're walking shoulder to shoulder, fingers reaching so close they could almost brush-but they don’t-not quite at least. There’s still a hair’s breath of distance between them, a space that felt like both a valley and a thread. Shusei’s more than aware that it’s taking up too much of his focus. He’s far too aware of every time Hotsuma leaned a little bit closer to him, how he wanted that contact and connection.
But he knew better than to give away everything all at once-to just take that hand and hold it in his palm.
That’s the secret to being a host after all. It’s all about slowly teasing everything out-the conversation, the physical contact, the emotional connection-it’s what kept the women coming back for more, for the promise that if they keep trying they will get more and more. This time there will be a more intimate touch, a more deeply whispered promise, a secret that holds the truth of the future on the cusp of its foundation.
Hotsuma may have been coming back to the club and he may have been grasping onto the string that Shusei was pulling-but was Shusei really teasing that string out slowly?
Only an hour ago he had been at the club and there Hotsuma had been, sitting at one of the back tables near the bar with his foot propped up on the small table and dissatisfaction written all over his face.
“What’s wrong?” He’d asked, innocently enough.
“Let’s get out of here.”
“Don’t you think that’s a bit much to ask?”
“I just want…to get out of here with you.”
It had been his third time coming to the bar in the last week-always stopping after class, with a book bag slung over one shoulder. On this night he showed up with nothing but empty hands and a smile that only reached his lips when Shusei came to greet him. When he smiled it lit up every dark corner in Shusei’s world.
Shusei found it impossible to not be swayed away by that smile.
And here they were now-in some nameless park, walking down a pebble-lined path in the middle of the night. The women that he may have disappointed by leaving work early are only a quickly fading memory streaming through the depth of his consciousness-because Hotsuma is here and Hotsuma has a habit of taking over all his thoughts.
Hotsuma never asked if he would get in trouble for leaving just like that and Shusei never bothered to ask why Hotsuma felt the need to leave. They both just followed one another, maybe trying to create some fragile kind of trust, or at least give into the want of a world without neon lights and the taste of liquor hanging in the air. Hotsuma never kept it a secret that he didn’t like the atmosphere of Kabuchiko-he wore his thoughts on his sleeve, all disgruntled huffs and grimaces. He didn’t like the women that came in with make up covering their faces, wearing it like a mask painted over flesh. He stayed away from them even if they tried to talk to him, instead lingering by the bar or one of the back rooms or maybe even just waiting outside until Shusei found a moment to breathe.
Whenever they slipped out of the club it was late but not quite late enough to call morning. In Kabuchiko there were those still wandering the streets covered in waves of darkness and tumultuous clouds known as the dark seeds of the red light district. Those shadows stir in Kabuchiko but Hotsuma was waiting outside for him just like promised, bathed in the safety of the streetlights, when Shusei had breathlessly agreed to leave with him. When they’re both finally standing in front of the club with hands shoved into their coat pockets and heels rocking, neither are really sure where to go from here.
“Let’s walk.” It’s Shusei’s suggestion that finally broke the moment of silence. Even though he’s the one that mentioned it, Hotsuma’s the one that’s leading them. Their shoulders are almost brushing against each other as they walk down the streets and words aren’t exchanged but Shusei’s too busy studying the way Hotsuma’s hair fell so perfectly around his face to really pay attention to something as small as spoken words.
It wasn’t Shusei that had chosen the park and neither was it Shusei who led them from the red light district-it was more like inertia was pulling them in one direction and they were hapless to stop it. When Kabuchiko faded away and the streets became dimmer the world seemed to cast itself further away with the distance of each footstep. It was just them, the sound of their steps on pebble-lined pavement, and the occasional shriek of tires against asphalt. The world outside the red light district was deceptively quiet on this night.
The park itself wasn’t very big but at this hour it’s just big enough for the two of them. Even though there’s more than enough space for them to walk Hotsuma slung an arm around his shoulder and tugged him into the corner of his chest. Shusei kept his hands in the pockets of his jacket and let his body lean into Hotsuma’s warmth.
Hotsuma started talking but he doesn’t really say much. It’s absent minded things that are annoying him; having to work more hours at his job, the extra assignments for classes he’ll never finish. He says all these things like he always does when they're together and Shusei just stayed silent and listened, maybe nods or maybe sometimes chides, but mostly he just let himself become absorbed in the cadence of Hotsuma’s speech. Being a host has made him a good listener, but this still isn’t quite the same. His veins don’t pulsate with the rhythm of other’s people speech. It doesn’t feel like his body needs Hotsuma’s words to keep beating and breathing.
It amazed him, even now, under the cover of such lateness, how easy it was to give into these feelings. The first time he had realized there was something there-it had hit him with this crushing and maddening fear. Fear of an unknown sensation that was slithering it’s way through his very being, crushing the space around his heart, piercing his lungs until it was hard to breathe. He thought he could somehow control it-suppress these feelings-but each and every time he gazed up at Hotsuma those feelings flickered to the forefront of his consciousness and he was powerless-just powerless to stop them.
Instead he just learned to ignore them.
Even if the proximity of Hotsuma made a shudder crawl it's way down his spine, Shusei pretended it was nothing. He didn't deny it, he just chose not to act on those feelings that fluttered beyond his eyelids. He kept his distance from Hotsuma even if it felt like the last thing he wanted to do-tried to protect himself but keep up the pretenses he had built and the relationship they had mended between them. He told himself over and over again that this was only natural-that he was a host and host’s were allowed to feel and breathe-but somehow this felt different, it felt as if the flames that burst from Hotsuma were the only things able to melt the coldness of his soul. It made him slip, forget that he needed to hold Hotsuma at arm’s length, allowed moments like these-when he let his emotions fail him and Hotsuma's words found a way to sway him all the way to the foundation of his being.
He didn’t know what to do when this happened-how to balance the tables between this identity he had developed around Hotsuma and the reality he knew and understood. Hotsuma had a way of making all the preconceptions he so intricately understood crumble to pieces inbetween his clenched fingers.
“Shusei.” It’s Hotsuma’s voice pulling him back into the world. “You’re spacing out again, aren’t you? Am I boring you or something?”
“You’re being ridiculous, Hotsuma.”
“Eh?”
Shusei turned toward him, eyes closing a little as he smiled. “Thinking that you’d ever bore me.”
“Shusei…”
“…should we keep walking?”
This isn’t like you, Shusei.
“Nah, let’s sit down for a minute.”
…is there something going on-something more going on between you and Hotsuma? You know, that would be okay…it’s okay for you to genuinely like someone.
There’s a bench underneath one of the lamps where Hotsuma plopped down with a heavy thud. It shook on old hinges and creaked with giving pieces of worn wood. Shusei stood in front of him, looking down at Hotsuma and feeling the weight of his arms that hung so loosely at his side. They feel like dead weight.
“Sit down, Shusei.”
Sitting down would be by far the easiest thing to do when Tachibana’s words are still ringing in his head. He looked down at Hotsuma and his lips curled upward in the corners, slightly narrowed eyes gazing down at the other man as he reached out a hand and played his fingers through his hair. Hotsuma’s eyes closed against his touch-as he stroked his fingers along the base of his skull, along the curve following his ear, brushing his wrist against the metal jewelry he wore.
Go ahead and leave early. It’s slow tonight anyway. Shu-kun…just try to relax a bit.
He leaned down with that one hand finally cupping underneath Hotsuma’s chin and tilting the other man’s face upward.
Shusei wondered if it always happened so effortlessly-if allowing himself to fall into the clutches of Hotsuma’s embrace was something he could have ever really have stopped. He thought it may have happened the morning when Hotsuma had been waiting for him outside the bar-or maybe after, maybe the first time after that morning when Hotsuma had come into the bar and Shusei felt that crushing pound against his rib cage.
But none of that really mattered in the end-because now he was here and he was looking down at Hotsuma’s face and finding himself completely lost.
“Open your eyes, Hotsuma.” And Hotsuma did, slowly, as if he were waking up from a comfortable dream-and when he did Shusei pressed their lips together.
It was a delicate kiss. Just a gentle brush of lips, a tender exchange of heat with a bit of added pressure. Hotsuma gave to him easily-mouth opening in a slight part and tongue licking along the soft folds of moist flesh.
He wasn’t sure if it was the warmth of Hotsuma’s lips or the cold breeze that fluttered underneath his coat, but suddenly Shusei felt as if he needed to get away from this place.
“Let’s get out of here.” Shusei said, echoing Hotsuma’s earlier words.
“Okay.”
Shusei can’t be sure if the gaze he saw lying in the depths of Hotsuma’s eyes is a burning desire of his own being reflected back or Hotsuma’s-all he knew for sure was that he could feel the lust between them shaking him all the way to his bones.
Hotsuma seemed to understand well enough and when they get up this time and walk they both know where this road will lead them. There aren’t pretenses anymore, just hesitancy charging the air between them.
And Shusei’s powerless to stop-could not stop it even if he wanted to-because Hotsuma is slowly cracking the foundation around him and it feels as if he’s always been destined to fall.
He’ll fall no matter how hard he gripes the edges and tries to keep the pieces together.
++++
They come into the apartment pushing against one another.
Shusei’s fingers are wrapped in the folds of Hotsuma’s coat, and Hotsuma has one hand on his shoulder and the other is trying to pull the key from the door’s lock-finding it difficult when Shusei’s lips are pressed against the curve of his jawline and nipping at the soft tissue of his earlobe. Shusei can hear the groan he’s trying to resist when he finally jams the key from the lock and the door begins to close behind them.
When the door clicked close Hotsuma’s arms are around him, gripping him, pulling him into his chest with a forceful drag. Shusei could feel his hot breath on the collar of his shirt, in the sharp intake of air when Shusei’s hands touched his hips and teased his fingertips under the hem of Hotsuma's shirt. Everything he does is by feel because the room is dark and Shusei can’t really see anything once the door’s closed-it’s too dark in the apartment’s interior-but there’s enough spatial awareness in him to know that this apartment is too big for a single person in Hotsuma’s standing to afford.
“Roommate?” He asked breathlessly.
Hotsuma nodded and Shusei let himself be led into the bedroom once they abandon their shoes by the front door. Once they are safely nestled within the smaller room, Hotsuma’s socked foot pushed the door closed. There’s no one to disturb them now.
He’s still not quite sure if it’s a good idea but he knows himself and he knows that look in Hotsuma’s eyes, and there’s no way either of them will be able to stop what they’ve begun. Maybe he always knew this would happen-knew it the very moment he tasted those dangerous lips on that first night-in a look that could not be swayed by forcefulness or pushed affection. Hotsuma acted like he was unsure and careful, but the moment they touched one another it all slipped away. He became just as needy as Shusei felt but kept carefully hidden.
They don’t make it to the bed before Shusei pushed Hotsuma against the closed door’s frame. Hotsuma hit the door with a thud but doesn’t say anything-doesn’t even seem to care because Hotsuma’s lips are on him and his fingers are pulling off his jacket at the same time they are raking across his chest. Hotsuma slid down to the door’s foundation, taking them both down with him. His fingers are a palpable pressure on Shusei’s back as Shusei straddled him across his lap and took his head into his hands and guided those lips into a deepening kiss.
It’s tongue and saliva and moistened breath beating like thudding heartbeats in the back of his throat. Hotsuma’s warmth consumes him even if he can’t see him-even if he’s only feeling in the darkness of the room that swells around them. It’s all taste and touch-and it doesn’t even matter because his eyes are closed and all he can think about is the bulge in Hotsuma’s pants and the way it’s resting right against where he’s straddling and how knowing-just knowing Hotsuma felt this way is enough to ignite a fire in the pit of his stomach.
“Shu…sei…” He kissed Hotsuma’s jawline, leaving a trail of delicate wisps that whisper across Hotsuma’s earlobe and all the earrings and metal that cover them.
“We should-“ Silence when Shusei’s lips catch Hotsuma’s in a kiss before he slid down between Hotsuma’s thighs. He can feel the sharp intake of air that Hotsuma inhales-the way his abdomen jolted inward and the rush of air that rustles the tips of Shusei’s brown hair. He can feel Hotsuma’s eyes hovering over him when he reached for the clasp of the other man’s belt and started to tug it lose.
But Hotsuma’s hand reached over his own, stopping him-stopping him with trembling fingers.
“No, Shusei…” Hotsuma’s voice is ragged, more a breathy whisper spoken in fragility. “I’m still…not sure about all of this.”
Shusei let go of the belt buckle and looked at Hotsuma-just stared at him as he leaned over him. His breathing was heavy but not quite a pant, and he could feel his own need as a firming pressure in his slacks, and it was hard to think when Hotsuma’s looking at him with those half-lidded eyes and trying to speak firmly but the words are only coming out as whispers. Shusei shook his fingers free from Hotsuma’s grasp and Hotsuma’s hand flopped to his side, hitting the ground with a light thud. He leaned over the other man, raising a finger to gingerly place over Hotsuma’s lips. “Shhhh Hotsuma, just let me…just let yourself enjoy it.”
He reached for the belt again, this time meeting little resistance. It clicked open easily, the sound of metal slithering against leather filling the silence between them.
He’s on his knees in front of Hotsuma now. His hand is on the waist band above his pants, just sitting there right where the hip bone jolts out. There’s Hotsuma looking at him, watching him as he stares up at him through thick eyelashes that blink at the open mouth, the parted lips that are still moist from their kiss. There’s not much air moving in the space between them-like they're both holding their breath and just waiting for one to tell the other to stop-to con some sense into their actions-to just fix whatever miscommunication is going on between them.
Because Shusei knew this was all wrong.
It’s wrong to act like he’s any other person when he knows, he just knows-Hotsuma isn’t just anybody. He is better than this sick act that’s he’s trying to do-than pleasing him the only way he knew how.
But he doesn’t know better and he’s lost and there’s only the miserable mess of mistakes he’s always made guiding him down this path-the act of sexual gratification being the only way he knows how to share what he’s feeling with Hotsuma-because isn’t this what they always wanted? All the women wanted the same thing in the end, maybe even more-so than all the other promises he would whisper to him. Lust, desire-they have a way of clouding everything. But here’s Hotsuma-so different from all the others-and the only thing that can come to Shusei’s mind is the dirty act he’s trying to perform. His hands felt filthy and sullen, darkness and decay stuck underneath his fingernails and marring everything pure that may or may not have been there-not caring what he’s trying to do because nothing will wash away this feeling.
He’s afraid to even try. Afraid of the consequences that his actions will take even if his willpower is deserting him.
Because the moment-that single moment that Hotsuma has everything of him-in that moment will he no longer be needed?
He’s seen it happen so many other times-to himself and to other hosts. They aren’t immune to the charms of their own profession-to the love that dangles itself before their eyes on every night and on every special occasion. But it’s when that love is given, when a piece of him is spread out and open-it’s always in those moments that he seals his fate in ending whatever connection has been made. It’s not as if he’s ever felt this way with someone else-as if he’s ever really attempted to give himself up so openly to a lust that’s far stronger than anything he’s ever felt before-but it’s the fact that giving in will conquer him. It will create a set of mistakes that he will never be able to erase, cut the ties of whatever foundation he may or may not have laid. It will end everything yet he felt powerless to stop himself.
Senshirou and Kuroto flash into the back of his mind. He wanted to think that maybe there’s a chance he can be like them-maybe he can make something out of the lies; wrap them up tightly, present them with a bow-and maybe still that other person will love him. But he knew there was a problem with that scenario because he’s not Kuroto or Senshirou-just a person who woke up one morning thinking there might be a flicker of a reason to live shimmering behind another man’s golden amber eyes.
Shusei untangled himself from Hotsuma’s embrace and took a moment to soak up his surroundings-to sit up and stand up and just take a moment to focus on something else other than the swelling of fear that’s welling in his chest. There’s books shoved on the floor in the far corner of the room-textbooks judging by their size and width-clothes thrown across the floor, a television and gaming consoles-a desk that looks like it hasn’t been touched in ages. The bed is pushed against the far wall aside a window that streams in moonlight through it’s billowing curtains. The bed’s in disarray, sheets clumsy pulled up and covered but not really made-just messily put into a place resembling where they are meant to be.
“Shusei…” He can hear the sound of Hotsuma standing, of him putting his belt back into place.
The sound of the belt buckle closing is so tremendously coated in such finality.
He turned toward Hotsuma’s voice and he’s standing there in the darker part of the room so that Shusei can’t really see the way the moonlight is playing on his face-just how his hair caught glimmers of light off the tips of the golden strands.
“Come here, Hotsuma.” He said with a hand outstretched. His eyes squint and a smile curves the corner of his lips when Hotsuma slowly takes a step forward. He hides all that doubt and insecurity in the faraway corners of his mind.
Hotsuma stepped into the light and Shusei can finally see him more clearly. There’s a tentative trepidation in his movements, a heightened hesitancy that is sitting somewhere between pulsating restraint and explosion. Shusei couldn’t help but think it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his life. Hotsuma seems anything but fragile-uncertain, weary, maybe a little apprehensive-but also filled with vitality and life. When he looked up and met Shusei’s eyes, when they really gaze at each other through the backdrop of a messy and dark room, Shusei can feel it. It’s like a gentle hum that fills the space between them, that keeps Hotsuma taking another step forward until they’re standing right in front of each other.
Shusei wondered if he should be upset-he imagined it would be a normal reaction when one offers himself to another man and is rejected-but he can’t find it in himself to feel such an emotion against Hotsuma. He's afraid to let himself feel anything other than his undeniable longing for the warmth that Hotsuma sets in his soul.
Hotsuma stepped closer and reached up a hand, pauses for only a moment, before running his fingers through the soft strands of Shusei’s brown hair. Shusei closed his eyes against the touch, wants to lean into the feel of Hotsuma's fingers pressed along his skull, but doesn’t-just stands there and let’s Hotsuma have his way with him-have him in any way he wants.
It felt like there are words sitting on the edge of Hotsuma’s lips but the other man doesn’t say them-he just sat on the edge of the bed and pulled Shusei toward him, so that he can wrap his arms around his waist and rest his head against the softness of his slender abdomen.
“Shusei…what’s wrong?” Shusei can feel the murmur of Hotsuma’s lips against his abdomen when he spoke, the tightened grip of those arms, the long sigh.
“I’m fine, Hotsuma.” He wanted to put his fingers through Hotsuma’s hair but he can’t-can’t do anything but let his arm rest like dead weights at his side.
“You’re not.” A momentary pause filled by the intake of air. “Don’t try lying or covering it up. What’s wrong with you?”
“I’m just thinking…”
“Thinking so much that you look like you’re in pain? And what was that there, Shusei? You don’t need to do that for me…”
“Really?” A long breath. “For me…this is what I know.” He’s being as honest as he’s ever been. These words aren’t drenched in lies, just fingers clenching into trembling fists at his side. “Did you think it would be any other way?”
Shusei regretted the words the moment they left his lips because he doesn’t think Hotsuma will understand. Maybe it shouldn’t have surprised him when Hotsuma let him go and stood-pushing him away so that Shusei had to step back and find his equilibrium on his own.
“I need something to drink.” They were words spoken over murmuring lips before Hotsuma was gone.
And then Shusei was alone.
He needed to sit and the bed where Hotsuma had been moments ago was the only thing available. He fell upon the soft sheets heavily, his hair tossed and fanning around to frame his face. He inhaled Hotsuma’s scent on these sheets, fingers tightening their grip into the comforter, trying to ease the pounding against his ribs.
His heart felt empty and it was hard to breathe. He felt like something was stuck in his lungs, something that left his lungs aching for oxygen, made his eyes water in pain. These feelings were so foreign and unknown to him that he didn’t know what to do with them-what the right course of action was, what could ease the burden of their presence in his life. He didn’t want Hotsuma to see him as a host but that was all he was-it was everything that made him what he was-he didn’t know any other way to be or act, it was simply a matter of what made his very existence.
Shusei closed his eyes. Maybe he was a fool for believing that he could somehow control or contain Hotsuma-that he could take his feelings and bottle them up and swear that he could somehow keep them buried in the depths of his heart.
Hotsuma had asked him what was wrong-and Shusei had been sure he had felt the same thumping vitality and lust in Hotsuma’s gaze-but had he been wrong?
Did Hotsuma even really see him or was Hotsuma seeing right through everything?
Kabuchiko flashed in the back of Shusei’s eyelids. It’s neon lights may be gaudy but they are familiar and they are something Shusei knew-something he’s grown up with for the last several years when Takashiro took him from an empty life and gave him something to believe in. It wasn’t a glamorous life but it was a enough for him, enough to keep him moving and breathing and just living through each day. The women showed him affection and in return he showed them a measure of love, and when it was all said and done he learned to see what they wanted-how to bend to their will but still make them his own.
But Hotsuma wasn’t like these women. He moved with a gruff forcefulness that was nothing fined or elegant-but all rough around the edges. He kissed him with such passion and lust that Shusei was sure he knew just what he wanted-but when Shusei tried to do it he pushed him away-turned away his advances so simply and easily.
Shusei couldn’t bend to Hotsuma’s will-couldn’t even see what the other man really wanted.
Pushing himself up to his elbows, Shusei stared at the open door and the darkened apartment beyond. Somewhere in that darkness was Hotsuma-but there was also an exit as well-a way out of this place and situation-this confusion that had bubbled up and destroyed everything he had ever known. He wanted to let go and just leave but Shusei knew that was impossible. He was already tangled too far into the game he had developed with Hotsuma-in the lies and the ties and all the lost words between them.
It took some effort but Shusei finally stood and walked into that darkness, letting it fold around him and pull him in.
He didn’t find Hotsuma in the kitchen. He wasn’t holding a drink or looking through the fridge-he was standing beside the window in the living room and staring through the small slit in the curtain. Shusei could imagine what he saw-the city lights blinking in the distance, the people that still meandered the streets-the still quiet of the night. He turned when he heard him approach, when the soft patter of socked feet was enough to draw Hotsuma from his thoughts. Hotsuma crossed his arms over his chest and watched as Shusei approached him. They were both silent, maybe because they knew they weren’t alone in this apartment, or maybe just because neither knew what to say.
“You weren’t thirsty?” Shusei finally whispered.
“Tch.”
“Don’t do that…” He reached out a hand, using a single finger to trace a line straight down Hotsuma’s brow. “It makes a wrinkle…right there.”
“I don’t know what to do with you.” Hotsuma admitted as he reached for those fingers that had just drawn across his face, taking them into his palm and pressing them to his lips. “I care about you…but…”
“Why are you thinking so hard?” Shusei stepped in closer-so close that he could feel the heat of Hotsuma’s breath brushing against his skin. “Don’t turn this into-“
“-into what? Something that it’s not? Don’t you even care Shusei?”
“I care about you, Hotsuma.” He pulled apart Hotsuma’s crossed arms, forced his way into his embrace. “I care about you.” Words just a whisper off of bruised lips, a face buried against Hotsuma’s chest.
But Hotsuma didn’t hold him, didn’t put his arms around him, just let his arms dangle at his sides like useless extensions of his body. “You could have fooled me.” His voice was growing in volume but he didn’t see to be aware-or maybe he just didn’t care. “I have eyes-I can see the way you are.”
“The way I am…?”
“The way you treat those women-whispering to them, leaning against them, touching them…I know this is what you are-I get that-but I don't want to be just another one of them.” Hotsuma’s fingers gripped his shoulders, fingernails digging into the soft skin of his shoulder as he pulled Shusei away from his chest enough to gaze down in his eyes. “What am I to you?”
Shusei felt words leave him, the intensity of Hotsuma’s gaze consuming his vision and his mind. In his chest, his heart was beating erratically.
“Shusei…”
“You…you are all I think about.”
“What does that even mean? I’m being serious, Shusei.”
“So am I.”
He thought back to days ago and the first time he saw Hotsuma after he realized something had profoundly changed in him. There had been the first few moments when Shusei had seen Hotsuma come into the club and take a seat at the bar-because a room in the back, he said later, felt too uncomfortable-and Shusei had simply stared at him from across the room. The woman he was entertaining playfully hit his shoulder, trying to regain his focus but it was impossible-impossible when his gaze was so rigidly fixed on Hotsuma. He watched as Hotsuma stood there at the bar, one hand in the pocket of his pants as he ordered a drink from the bartender and waited. He just waited, knowing Shusei would find him and come for him, and of course Shusei did.
“You came.” Shusei had said when he finally approached him.
“I said I would.”
“I’m glad.” He had whispered, the soft syllables brushing off his lips so low that Hotsuma didn’t hear him when he turned to order him a drink from the bartender.
His heart is aching right in this moment as it had back then. There’s almost a trembling urgency he felt to touch Hotsuma-to grasp his hand, run his fingers through his hair-to do anything at all that will abolish the space between them. But he doesn’t do anything at all-he just breathes, in and out, slow deep breaths that somehow-somehow seem to slow his heartbeat.
Because he remembered how disgruntled and flustered Hotsuma had been these last few nights-how he waited at the bar more often than at a table-at a place where he could survey the whole room of the club and see just exactly where Shusei was all the time.
“Do you want me to leave?” It’s Shusei who asks the question because he’s the one that brought them to this place, even if he’s terrified of his answer, of admitting how he foolishly missed everything Hotsuma was feeling. Hotsuma may have led their steps but Shusei has led their actions because he’s the one whose left work early, who suggested they walk, who finally suggest they go back to Hotsuma’s place. Maybe Hotsuma has thought he’s the one making the decisions but Shusei’s learned enough about Hotsuma in these last few meetings to see that Hotsuma is just as oblivious as he sounds-he’ll miss the point completely if Shusei doesn’t walk him to it.
If Hotsuma needs this out-needs this reason to toss him aside then Shusei will give it to him. He won’t pollute the air that Hotsuma breathes if that’s what he wants.
The lights have gone out.
Hotsuma closed the curtain, silencing the final strip of light that had illuminated them with a small tug. It’s nothing but darkness now and Shusei can’t see but he can feel Hotsuma’s breath-so much more steady and sure than his own.
“I’ll ask you one more time…what am I to you, Shusei? I don’t want to go down this path with nothing but lies piecing us together. Answer me honestly.”
There wasn’t any hesitation, not really, just the sharp intake of oxygen to begin his words. “You are my everything.”
Hotsuma’s arms curled around him and pull him into his chest. Sometimes it’s easier to ignore all the foul things when they are presented in packages of suits, styled hair, and glittering lights. But Shusei doesn’t hold any false pretenses about what he is-about the things that will never change.
“Then stay.” It’s all Hotsuma has to say, words mumbled into his hair.
It amazed Shusei how simply and effortlessly it came to this point.