Title: Bruises and Bitemarks
Author:
masanamiCharacter(s): Hotsuma/Shusei, mentions of Senshirou/Kuroto, Tsukumo/Touko, Takashiro, Tachibana
Word Count: 3,483
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: Editing this chapter was a nightmare. It was originally over 5K and then I cut out about 2,000 words at the last minute because I wasn't happy with them. I just wish I had more time to work on this fic. Lately things have been extremely busy for me and busy + little free time = little time for writing and not-so-creative-environment. I also had to do a serious amount of plot changing before I could post this chapter as well but here it is, all finished and ready to be read. Luckily, because I had to work on parts ahead of this chapter before I released it, I have most of this fic in some stage of completion (yes, so that means this fic is almost done and it shouldn't take too long for the rest of this fic to be posted). You guys can expect the next chapter to be a big one that will lead the way for the last few final chapters of my Bruises & Bitemarks series ♥
Sometimes Kuroto wondered if he should listen to his own advice.
“Someone worth living for…” Saying the words aloud, he’s almost surprised when only one person comes to his mind.
Shaking his head, Kuroto pushes the thoughts away as he walks toward the front door of the apartment he shared with Senshirou. Shusei would survive, he surmised, and maybe now Senshirou would stop being so anxious and feel the need to check up on the other man. Next time he wouldn’t indulge Senshirou and let him do his own busy work because, quite frankly, he didn’t like all the thoughts his conversation with Shusei stirred in him.
Because, if Kuroto was being honest with himself, hadn’t he been thinking the same thing? Having these little slips in time-just a moment really, when he thought that maybe it would be okay to be happy and live a normal life-that maybe Oboro would want that for him.
“Quiet.” He says with a sigh, wishing his thoughts had never strayed. He didn’t like hesitating, he didn’t like the way Senshirou sometimes made him feel like he could give up on his revenge for his past lover’s death.
That thought alone puts everything back into perspective, tucks away the thoughts of a normal life into the furthest corner of his mind. It reminds him of his purpose in all that he has gone through to get to this point. Kuroto thinks he can keep those thoughts buried until he sees Senshirou standing before him. He’s dressed casually with house slippers and an apron on, standing in the living room waiting for him when he hears the sound of Kuroto’s key unlocking the door. Tall, glasses adorned face, glistening hair all seen through Kuroto’s dark veil of hair-just standing in the doorway of their front entrance Kuroto has to take a second and pause.
“Welcome home.”
Kuroto catches his breath back, huffs, and closes the door with a click. He kicked off his shoes at the doorway and put on his house slippers as he walked inside. “I thought you were going to be late.”
“Work finished earlier than I expected.”
“Then you should have checked up on Shusei yourself.”
“You don’t mean that.” Senshirou chided. “Hurry and come in, I was just finishing dinner.”
Kuroto followed Senshirou into the kitchen where the smell of salmon and rice greeted him. His stomach grumbled at the thought of the meal ahead but Kuroto didn’t move to help prepare the meal, instead choosing to sit at the table and watch Senshirou cook.
“So…how was Shusei?” Senshirou asked, dipping a spoon into a pan and tasting the sauce cooking inside. A haze came to his glasses from the steam as he leaned in close to the warming pot, rolling the taste of the sauce against his tongue. He nodded to himself in satisfaction before dipping it again and this time bringing it over for Kuroto to taste. “Be careful, it’s hot.”
“He looks a mess but he seems fine.” Kuroto licked the edge of the spoon, a burst of spicy cream hitting his tongue. The delicious favor filled his mouth with warmth. “Or at least that’s what he’s trying to convince himself.”
“So you see it too?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Kuroto watched as Senshirou went back to cooking, noting the way his brow furrowed in thought. “You’re getting too involved.” He sighed. “Shusei can take care of himself.”
Senshirou smiled but it was a sad smile that died down as quickly as it began. “I guess I can’t help it.” His chest fell in a heavy sigh. “I don’t seem to be any good at getting anyone away from that place. I couldn’t convince Shusei to leave and I can’t convince you either.”
“We’ve been over this before, Senshirou. I don’t understand why you need to keep bringing it up.”
“I get it, I get it.” Senshirou’s hands rose in mock defense. “I’ll drop it.”
And Senshirou didn’t bring it up again, even as they sat at the table and ate in relative silence once the meal was ready. Eventually Senshirou couldn’t take the quiet anymore and spoke about work and the gallery opening while Kuroto listened. When Senshirou rose to clean the dishes and put them away, Kuroto laid out on the couch and let his eyes close as he stared up at the ceiling. There was a gentle hum coming from the heater that Senshirou had switched on to ward off the cooling nights but it was otherwise silent. Kuroto let his thoughts wander.
He just couldn’t keep Senshirou’s words out of his head. It was no secret that Kuroto’s continued employment at the club was a sore spot to Senshirou, who so badly wanted him to quit. He didn’t stay because of the money and he could easily do without the silly women or the deceptive hosts-and Senshirou knew that perfectly well-that his reasons for staying weren’t as simple as that.
But it wasn’t the same for Shusei.
To be honest, even Kuroto didn’t really understand why Shusei continued down this path of darkness and deceit. Shusei wasn’t the type to so cunningly position himself above others for fame or money-he even lived rather modestly compared to the other high ranking hosts that brought in much less money per month than him-and obviously the women weren’t his concern either…so what was it? Shusei had already been established at the club before Kuroto had been there and when he asked Senshirou about it one night he merely stated that one day Shusei just showed up and had been there ever since.
It just didn’t make sense.
It was like Shusei was living without a purpose. Maybe it was because Kuroto only tolerated the place because of his own personal objective but he couldn’t imagine continuing to work there just for the sake of having no other readily available prospect. Especially not for Shusei, someone who Kuroto wasn’t convinced really even belonged in a place like that despite the fact that he had thrived in success.
But maybe that was changing. Hotsuma was changing things. In the time that he had known Shusei this was the first time he had seen real doubt cloud his judgment concerning a client. There was a sense of hesitation festering behind the longing in the other man’s eyes, as if Shusei was trying to tentatively step forward but doubting himself every step of the way. He wondered how long Shusei would be able to keep it together before it all came crumbling down around him.
Kuroto wondered the same for himself. Maybe the reason he couldn’t get Senshirou’s words out of his head was because he was actually considering-
“What are you thinking about?”
The sound of Senshirou’s voice caused Kuroto’s eyes to open and his thoughts to dissipate as quickly as they appeared. He stared up at the man that towered over him, glasses glinting with the reflection of light so that he couldn’t quite make out his eyes. “Nothing,” Kuroto murmured as he moved over to make room for Senshirou. The other man crawled onto the couch with him, pulling him into his arms. It felt comforting when Senshirou’s fingers began to brush through his black hair.
“I’m sorry.” He felt lips brush his forehead.
Kuroto sighed. “Be quiet.”
“I just worry about you.” He felt Senshirou’s arms close around him, drawing him into his chest. Kuroto didn’t push away, just let himself enjoy the feel of the other man’s embrace. It was a feeling that he didn’t want to admit to-that he found such solace in Senshirou’s arms.
“Save your worrying for Shusei. I don’t need it. I know exactly what I’m doing.”
“…and what are we going to do about Shusei?” Senshirou asked, his voice subdued.
“There’s nothing that can be done.” Kuroto said bluntly. “And I’m sure an idiot like Hotsuma doesn’t understand Shusei’s position either.”
Senshirou’s lips formed a firm line. “But…Shusei cares about Hotsuma and-“
“It doesn’t matter.” Kuroto interrupted. “If Shusei refuses to let him in.”
“Then it’s really hopeless…”
Kuroto looked up at Senshirou. He reached up a hand, gently placing it on the side of the other man’s face in a rare show of affection. Senshirou’s skin is soft and warm against Kuroto’s touch. “It’s not hopeless…” He began softly. “It’s merely up to Shusei and Shusei alone to decide the outcome.”
++++
Senshirou watched Kuroto sleep.
When the younger man slept he looked so peaceful-as if all the frown lines of worry and annoyance seemed to dissipate in slumber. It was Kuroto without worry, Kuroto without stress, and especially a side of Kuroto that was no longer consumed with the thought of avenging his past lover. Senshirou still remembers so clearly those first few nights when Kuroto had begun to make spending the night more of a habit than a rare occurrence; how even though Senshirou held the smaller man in his arms he could still feel him toss and turn in bed for hours upon hours until exhaustion claimed him.
Kuroto had come so far in the time they had been together.
Almost instinctively Senshirou reached out a hand and gently brushed aside the long black hair that always seems to cover Kuroto’s face. He can see better when Kuroto doesn’t keep his face buried behind the thick black strands. Without the obstructing view Senshirou can make out the thick dark eyelashes closed in slumber, the full lips pursed in a straight line, the sharp slopes of the side of his face. He was so beautiful in Senshirou’s eyes.
He sighed gently.
Seeing Kuroto in such a peaceful state always brought a lightness to his heart. It reminded him why he so desperately wanted to protect and shield the other man from all the things that troubled his soul. He kept telling himself over and over again not to meddle in Kuroto’s affairs-but that was one command Senshirou felt too difficult to obey. More than anything Senshirou wanted to protect Kuroto. He wanted to take him away from the pain of his past; from the memories of his former lover that haunted him and seemed to fill Kuroto with such consuming sorrow.
But, perhaps even more than that, Senshirou just wanted to know that he was enough for Kuroto. Enough to keep Kuroto from clinging to the past, enough to stop the pain and forever erase those frown lines of worry-but that would never happen.
Senshirou knew well enough that he would never be able to entirely fill that void that had been ripped from Kuroto’s heart. It was a sad truth but a fact that Senshirou had learned early on-one he had already made the determination to live with as long as it brought Kuroto closer. He’d do anything to just be a little bit closer to the other man that he so desperately wanted to shroud in warmth and safety-even put up with his connection with the club for Kuroto’s sake.
Because the truth was that Senshirou didn’t want to have anything to do with the New World bar or Takashiro Giou anymore.
He knew perfectly well that he owed a lot to that place-without the extraordinary money he earned in the two years spent there as a host he never would have been able to graduate from college with an art degree let alone afford the costs of starting his own photography business. The gallery openings, the magazine photo spreads-all of it wouldn’t have been possible without the opportunities that Takashiro and his money offered. It was the thing that attracted so many to the profession.
But that didn’t mean it was for everyone.
Senshirou can clearly remember the day he knew he had to wash his hands of being a host. It was the day he thought he would marry a woman he met from that bar and the subsequent manner in which she was treated after his other clients found out. The day he found Tsubaki standing outside the back of the club after claiming to have gone home, pouring out liquor that had been purposely spilled into her purse while tears peppered the corner of her eyes, would forever be burned in his memory. He knew from that moment on he could not do that job for another day. Even though things eventually didn’t work out with Tsubaki he still kept away and he probably would have continued to keep away if Shusei hadn’t introduced him to Kuroto.
And now he only kept a thin line of connection with the club for Kuroto’s sake-and also Shusei.
Thinking about the boy makes a sigh spread between Senshirou’s lips. Kuroto already thought he was too involved in the other boy’s life-but this was another person that Senshirou felt compelled to help.
Senshirou pulled Kuroto against his chest. The other man murmured in his sleep but didn’t wake. It’s late enough that only the dim lights from the street make their way into the room through the window, but the light is just enough for Senshirou to make out the curves of Kuroto’s body. He traces his fingers along the shorter man’s spine, memorizing every curve with his touch, relishing in the warmth of skin-on-skin contact.
Sometimes Senshirou still found it amazing that Kuroto had already let him get this close. Silently, Senshirou reminded himself to back off and give Kuroto space regarding the club. The last thing he wanted to do was have the other man push him away after he had worked so hard to get to this point.
Besides, there was still the pressing issue of Shusei to deal with.
This was another matter Kuroto had been vocal about him not interfering in. He hadn’t-not directly at least. He hadn’t even met Hotsuma Renjou-but he knew enough about the man from Kuroto to see that this person had affected Shusei in ways Senshirou had never seen before. Even Senshirou could see the difference in Shusei’s eyes when Hotsuma’s name was mentioned.
Senshirou thought back to the first time he’d met Shusei and how much the boy from then had changed into the man he had become and the person he was becoming because of Hotsuma. Shusei lasted so much longer than the other hosts, even climbed his way up to the top position in Kabuchiko, but it seemed like all of that meant nothing to Shusei. For so long the other man had been walking around with such a thick veil over him. The deceit and deception that often drove away so many men from the profession after only a year or two never phased Shusei even years later. It was almost as if Shusei lived in a world so buried deep within that nothing could penetrate it.
Senshirou closed his eyes and held Kuroto a little bit tighter.
Things had changed so much since then…but then why did it feel as if so many people he cared about around him were drowning in the past?
++++
Shusei stared at his cell phone.
It was off, as it had been for the last several days, ever since the last time he’d used it to speak with Hotsuma in the subway. He’d been too pathetically scared to turn it on since then. Turning it on meant opening himself to the temptation of giving into his desires to just-hear the sound of Hotsuma’s voice.
The small rectangular device lay on the table in front of him and Shusei leaned over the counter, head resting against the side of his arm, the coolness of the counter’s top just tangible on his skin. Kuroto’s words came back to him. Hotsuma had gone to the club in search of him but…why? Was Hotsuma so concerned and filled with worry that he felt the need to check on him there? It couldn’t be possible, there was no way Hotsuma had known about his run in with Jekyll and Hyde…but still…there had to be a reason.
And that reason scared Shusei.
His eyes focused on the cell phone. From his vantage point against the table the small and thin device seemed harmless. Then why was he so nervous? Heart thudding, Shusei reached out and balanced the phone on it’s side so that he could see the screen and turned it on.
He felt the blood rushing against his eardrums, pounding away at the insides of his head.
The black screen stared back at him for several long seconds before the loading screen blinked on. The phone came to life only seconds later, followed closely by the chime alerting him that there was something waiting for him on the handheld device. He clicked a button on the touch screen to look more closely.
Twenty missed calls, four voice mails, ten text messages. It took only a second longer to discern that they all came from Hotsuma.
The surprise was enough to make Shusei sit up straight. The text messages didn’t say much. Where are you? Answer the fucking phone! Why aren’t you picking up?-they were all pretty much the same-most sent from the night he was supposed to meet up with Hotsuma and his friends for the celebratory dinner…
Shusei sighed.
He supposed it was foolish to believe that he could blow off the dinner so easily with that single phone call. Hotsuma was probably mad and begging for an argument…to show Shusei how much he didn’t deserve to have Hotsuma in his life when a club became more important than an outing with someone he supposedly cared about. If only Hotsuma knew…
But Shusei could never tell him. He could never let his secret be revealed. It was better this way…to let Hotsuma just be angry with him. He could beg and plead and do whatever it took to make up for him being angry-he just couldn’t let Hotsuma know the true reason why he couldn’t be there.
Shusei was debating whether to listen to the voicemails or not when he heard a knock on the door.
He wasn’t expecting company so when he pulled open the door he was surprised to see a woman standing outside his doorway. She was taller than him in high heels, a dress suit, and long wavy hair. Shusei recognized her right away from the bar; she was Takashiro’s personal secretary. “Ibuki, come in.” He stepped back and she came inside.
“Shusei, it’s been a while.” She held a purse clutched against her side and looked around the apartment with a quick glance before her gaze settled in on him. She took in the still-healing bruises with a long silence. “So that’s why you’ve been calling in sick.”
“I didn’t expect to see you here.” Shusei said as he closed the door behind her.
“Takashiro wanted to know why you’ve been absent from work all week.” She paused. “But I can see that for myself.”
Shusei felt his insides coiling. “Don’t tell him.”
She crossed her arms over her stomach. “You want me to lie for you?” She took a seat on the couch in the living room, legs crossing and watching as Shusei slowly moved across the room to join her, careful not to aggravate his wounds that were on the mend.
“There’s no reason to tell him.” Shusei reasoned. “I’ll be fine in a few more days. No one needs to know.” And he hasn’t forgotten Takashiro’s warnings nor the implications that could arise if Takashiro found out he was in a fight with someone associated with Reiga.
“But, still, you’re asking me to lie for you. I don’t feel comfortable with that.”
“I’m asking you not to tell him.”
She regarded him for a long moment. “This involves someone related to Takashiro, doesn’t it? Isn’t that why you don’t want him to find out?”
“I think it’s best if I don’t explain what happened, Ibuki.” Because Shusei knew the less people that knew about it the better it would be.
She sighed loudly. Shusei couldn’t tell if it was out of annoyance or exasperation. “I’ve always liked you, Shusei.” She brushed a hand across her forehead, crossing her legs as she leaned forward to regard him more closely. “Fine, I’ll keep your secret for now.”
“Thank you, Ibuki.”
Ibuki brushed her hair from her shoulders. “But I hope you know-secrets never stay buried for long.”
Shusei knew that perfectly well.
“I’ll take it you understand then.” She stood, brushing down her skirt as she rose. “In that case I’ll go and tell Takashiro that you will be at work tomorrow.” She began to move toward the door but paused midway there. “Oh, and Shusei…” She looked at him over her shoulder. “I suppose I should warn you…Yuki is back.”
With those simple words all the pieces began to fall together and Shusei had to remind himself to breathe.