Migraine Coma chapter 8: Hypnophobia pt2
Title: Migraine Coma: "Hypnophobia pt2"
Chapter: #8/#?
Author: rookie_cherii
Band/Pairing: Chiyu x Takeru (SuG)
Rating: VERY NC-17
Warnings: ALL DAT SEX AND VIOLENCE MAN
Summary: Chiyu has found a new path to follow and his life seems to be back on track. Then, an unexpected incident pulls him into the nights of Tokyo, and back to the blackest eyes of the boy he thought had forgotten about him.
Comments: OMFGWHUT SMUTTY ARK IS SMUTTY. I'm really sorry. This isn't even the last of it. Part 2 of chapter 8; part 1 is here.
Disclaimer: Don't own.
At 10:30 in the evening the brunette leaves his home, dressed down, taking only the necessities - the train cards and his phone, and a few thousand in cash - with him. Making sure the door is locked before leaving the brunette takes the stairs and walks to the subway station. The air is cool, normal for this time of the year; the sky is dark and cloudy, and the moon can hardly be seen through the duvet spread above the city. Still, it's a rather beautiful night. The subway station is peaceful at such hour. Less trains are running, and most of the people are salarymen coming from late business dinners or from the well-known bars and restaurants of Roppongi. Amongst them Chiyu looks almost like an exception in his short leather jacket and casual tight jeans combined to a loose long-sleeve shirt that hangs a little lower over his chest. If one would stop and have a look they'd realize how tired his eyes are, but no-one pays attention. No, that's Japan for you, he thinks to himself; everyone around him is minding their own business, which only puts more emphasis on the fact that half the men here are coming from strip clubs and going home to their wives and children.
In the train he gets the whole bench to himself. There's a guy playing on his Nintendo further away, and someone's reading a magazine.
In Shinjuku, though, things are completely different. The city is as alive as ever. It's Saturday, after all; it's as if half the city had gathered here. Chiyu is glad for not having taken a bag. He follows the map he's memorized, hoping he'll make it. The caller (he's quite certain it was Takeru, but Chiyu doesn't want to get his hopes up) told him not to be late, after all. Moving in the crowd is slow as there's so much people.
Finally, he finds the place. The entrance is between a hostess bar and a love hotel, and from the same entrance a stairway leads up to a karaoke bar. There's a guy his age handing out flyers outside. Chiyu manages to avoid getting one as the boy stops to give instructions to someone who's actually interested.
The signs lead him to the stairway down underground. Low on the wall hang small lights that illuminate the stairway, but yet Chiyu manages to nearly trip over twice or thrice. Halfway down he can hear the music, already. It's loud and darker than that of an average club; no squeaky female voices, but heavy guitars mixed into some computer midi sounds accompanied with speech and occasional singing that's hidden into the background of the music.
He pays the entrance fee at the end of the stairs. The man collecting the money is dressed in black and has a short hair, but he's not exactly scary like the stereotype of a security guard. They don't exchange words, but he looks at Chiyu curiously, as if wanting to ask something. Instead of doing so he parts the heavy red curtain that's covering the doorway.
The music grows louder as he steps past the curtain, giving the man one last look, unsure of whether he's supposed to speak to him or not. Turning to look at the club, Chiyu finds himself frozen on spot as his chocolate eyes examine the view.
The club is larger than what he's expected, illuminated by lights that are constantly changing color. The walls have been covered with fabrics and black leather sofas are lined against them. In the middle the floor, round in shape, is lower than the other parts, and has leather-covered railings on the edges to keep people from tripping over. A bar is placed behind the what-would-be-a-dancefloor, and two girls in leather costumes are serving drinks. Walls separate some areas of the whole hall and from where he's standing Chiyu can't see the end of the club.
But it's not the interior decorating which has made him regret accepting the whole game. It's the crowd and what's going on on stage. People, clothed or not, are everywhere, touching each other, on top of each other, and - Chiyu can't look, it's too much. He closes his eyes for a while. On stage a woman is cutting her arms and the music covers the voices of the customers. While some are enjoying drinks it's clear only the minority is actually fully clothed and not in direct skin contact exchanging whatever bodily fluids possible.
The brunette is ready to turn right around and leave when a thin arm comes to wrap around his. Surprised, almost afraid of what's going on, he lowers his gaze to find the platinum blonde boy standing next to him, examining the crowd without any real concern in his expression. Then, Chisa turns to look up at the Osakan, smiles softly, almost soothingly, and yells across the music, "Surprised?"
"Yeah", answers Chiyu. At least his wish about knowing someone here is granted. The scent of the boy's perfume, or maybe the memory of it, comes to him again, filling his nostrils. It's a pleasant scent, although Chiyu can't help but feel like he was betraying someone, again. Chisa tugs him on the move, and they pass by the dancefloor and people taking over the sofas.
"Is Hazuki here, too?" Chiyu cries out to the boy as they have to stop to wait to get past some people not minding others too much.
"No", the small male answers across the noise. He's wearing a short-sleeved shirt and black shorts over a pair of leggings. The black shoes seem a size too large.
"Then--" They're on the move again and Chiyu gives up.
Finally they come to a set of sofas partly separated from the rest by a wall. There's a table in between, and no-one is occupying the seats. On the table there's a half-full glass of something clear, the ice melting in the heat, and five shot glasses, a bottle of beer and some vodka mix drink. Chisa pulls Chiyu on the sofa, sitting him down, and pushes the beer at him.
"Why was I asked to come here?" Chiyu asks, finally. Over here the music isn't as loud as on the other side of the walls, but he still needs to shout for Chisa to hear his voice. The thin boy is gulping down the vodka mix, looking sideways at him. Putting the bottle back down Chisa leans in close, and Chiyu catches the scent of the drink in the air.
"To see something", answers the platinum blonde male, speaking close to his ear so that Chiyu can hear him properly. The brunette can feel the lips against his skin, and his spine shudders as cold creeps run down his back. "Maybe to learn something?"
"Did Takeru ask me to come?"
No answer. Instead, the boy nibbles on his earlobe. It's impossible for Chiyu to deny the fact that it feels nice and almost relaxing in a way. If he closes his eyes he can almost picture it's someone else. "Did someone tell you to do this?"
"Hmm~", coos the boy.
"Is that a yes?"
"Don't worry. Drink. Relax. I'm not going to hurt you." Chisa giggles, the sound tingling his ear.
"Please. Tell me. I promise to chill if you tell me." The brunette turns to look at Chisa, who reaches for the vodka mix and drinks more. Chiyu smells the beer, but isn't too sure about whether it's ok to drink it. Whoever could have put something in it.
Having put the bottle down, again, Chisa speaks up. "I told you I have a boyfriend, didn't I? Half the people here work at offices or schools, train stations or restaurants. I work a little different, but it's a job, nevertheless."
"So you were asked to."
"It's all right with me." The blonde smiles, and Chiyu can tell it's genuine, that the boy means what he's saying. That it's all right. Part of his brain is yelling at him, telling Chiyu to hurry up and go home. This isn't his place, and if he wants to fool around he could just call Shinpei, like any other sane person would call their girl- or boyfriend.
But the thought of Shinpei doesn't make him feel any better, nor does it make him feel any worse, either. In fact, to his own surprise, Chiyu finds himself fairly indifferent about the small brunette. Once again he questions whether it's love that he feels toward the short male. Is this how the people who deliberately cheat feel like, he wonders, or should he simply call the boy later to talk about us and not Takeru? Although Shinpei expressed he'd been afraid of the subject.
His thoughts are cut by the kisses on his neck, the hand tugging the jacket off his shoulders. The brunette lets his eyes slide shut and he bites his lip, exhaling via his nose. Man, he wants a cigarette. The scent of perfume is intoxicating, and the smooth lips on his skin aren't helping. Chisa moves a tad closer, Chiyu can feel it, and lands a kiss on the corner of the Osakan male's mouth.
Fuck. Whatever. Chiyu pulls the boy close, remembering how light the small frame is again, kissing the lips and the neck and finally pushes the blonde down on his back.
"See, it's not too difficult", the small boy giggles as Chiyu pushes up the loose shirt to kiss the pale stomach. He wiggles a little as the lips tickle his side.
It's okay to do this, Chiyu tells himself. By all logic, Chisa has been asked to come here for him by Hazuki, who probably got his orders from Takeru. Whatever twisted logic lies behind this, Chiyu is too frustrated to care, now. His heart is pounding madly, and the slender fingers fiddling with his jeans' zip aren't making it any easier to bear.
The leggings cause him some trouble, and Chisa giggles, but whether it's at him or due to alcohol Chiyu can't tell.
He buries himself inside the boy, holding him tight, panting, listening to the soft voice moan into his ear. Chisa's hands mingle with his hair, tugging slightly. Somewhere in his head where his brain is still thinking Chiyu can't help but wonder how many of the whimpers are for real and how many times has the boy done this to have grown so good at it. Compared to the subtle movements of the small hips Chiyu feels clumsy. The boy beneath him arches his back, knows exactly what to do to drive the brunette crazy.
No-one pays any mind to what they are doing as everyone else has come here to be free of boundaries, too. No lines to be pushed, no rules to be broken.
He comes with a groan, wraps his fingers around the other, feels the blonde's hand on his. Kisses on the lips, neck, ears and chest. Heavy breathes and the heat of the small body, the warm drops of sweat. Chiyu doesn't pay mind to the hair sticking to his neck and forehead. He wishes he would've at least lost the jacket completely.
Chisa urges him off quickly after the white fluid has smeared the pale stomach despite the trembles running through his frame. Chiyu feels exhausted, but at the same time relaxed. He watches the platinum blonde pick a paper tissue from the pocket of the shorts, clean himself. Instead of pulling the leggings and shorts on immediately he tugs the shirt down, bends a lean leg on the black sofa, and smiles at the brunette. Chiyu pulls the boxers and jeans back on, uncomfortable.
"Are you... Are you ok?" he manages to ask, finally.
"I'm fine." Chisa can't hold the soft, amused chuckle. "I'd have told you if you had been hurting me."
"What... What does... Uh." The brunette is sort of confused. The previous time he talked with the boy had been different from this, and the first time they'd met Chisa had left right away. This is the first time he's attempting to chat with a stranger after sex. "What does your boyfriend...?"
"Think about this?"
"Yeah."
"He understands why I do it." Chisa finishes the drink. "Every time I ask him Shikito tells me I'm silly. I love you the way you are, he says."
Chiyu nods. He can understand. He loves Takeru the way the quirky blonde is.
Before he can concentrate on the thought something covers his eyes, and the world becomes but soft darkness. "What--"
The soft, warm hands come on his cheeks, and Chisa's voice says, "Shhhhh... Don't worry."
There's someone else behind him, sitting down, but as Chiyu tries to bring his hands to pull off the cloth covering his vision Chisa grabs his wrists, pressing his hands down. This is confusing. "What's going on?"
A glass is set on the table; Chiyu guesses it's the same half-full one that was there before, unless the person who has joined them has been holding a drink all the time. Then, the third person stands up, and Chisa coos into his ear, "Don't take the scarf off. You won't have to look at people." A kiss on his earlobe; it's soothing, although Chiyu is still in a state of panic for not having any idea about what's going on. "Don't worry... You won't get hurt or ridiculed. It's all right. Trust me."
Chiyu finds it difficult to trust the small blonde's words, but as a hand comes to tug him up and away from the sofas and the tiny male Chiyu doesn't find himself resisting, either. He won't get killed in this game. Besides, wasn't he the one to accept this? If he didn't want to see Takeru again, if the boy wouldn't matter, he would be home sleeping or out with Yuji, now. If Takeru didn't matter, he wouldn't have answered the messages. If Takeru wouldn't matter...
He has no idea where is he being led, but on the way many people bump into him (or then he bumps into them). Finally after what feels like an eternity of loud music and hands and legs and occasional cries he finds himself in another similarly less loud environment. Judging by the lack of body parts in a five centimeter radius Chiyu figures they've come to another more secluded place.
As he's about to bring his hand to pull down the scarf, again, a hand forces his arm away. He can feel the person right there, in front of him. Neither speaks a word. Chiyu's exhales tremble. Then, suddenly, warm, wet lips come against his, the kiss rougher than Chisa's; at the same time arms wrap around him, quickly, easily tying his wrists behind his back. Chiyu has a hard time keeping himself from wiggling away.
His company sucks on his lip briefly before pulling back.
Chiyu runs his tongue quickly over his kiss-swollen lips. Swallowing, he exhales quietly, "Takeru."
There's no answer, but there's also no way Chiyu could be mistaken. No, he knows those lips, he'd know the feeling anywhere. But he suppresses his questions. For some reason he feels this isn't the time nor the place. And whatever has brought them together like this... It's so sudden Chiyu is certain this isn't simply the end of the whole game. No, this is something else. He can only wish the boy will explain himself.
Thus, no words are exchanged as Chiyu finds himself pushed down to a seat, his hands tied up, blindfolded. With his vision crippled he can't follow the situation properly, and he's sure the blonde finds this situation humoring in some way. The brunette accepts it, swallows it, and breathes as quietly as possible past slightly parted lips.
The familiar weight, maybe a little lighter than before, comes on his lap, calves against his thighs, and the fingers play with the hem of his shirt, pushing the piece of clothing up a little. Chiyu grimaces as the fairly long nails press into his skin and slowly pull a path down, leaving red marks behind. Smooth caresses combined to painful bites and scratches, Chiyu finds himself a mess of different emotions as he surrenders, leaning his head back as the blonde kisses the side of his neck.
For the second time tonight Chiyu isn't the one opening the jeans and tugging them down the little possible in their current position. The boy's hand is cold as the fingers stroke him, causing Chiyu to involuntarily let out a small gasp.
"If I were to cut you", the all too familiar voice whispers against the brunette's neck, the sound muffled, but still comprehensible, "brand you, mark you mine, what'd you do?"
Chiyu moans, bites his lip. As much as he loves feeling the fragile body close to him, he doesn't want it this way. "I... I don't know..."
"Scarred for life. How'd that feel?"
"I... don't know..."
"Exactly."
"Takeru..."
Chiyu breathes rapidly and a low whimper escapes him as the boy scratches his side and bites his neck. The caresses remain gentle, though, and Chiyu can feel the heat burn within his body. He wants to touch the blonde, hold him, kiss him, just have him close... This is wrong.
The other hand pushes his shirt up as far as possible, and the smooth fingertips draw meaningless patterns on his chest. Chiyu shivers. "I'd write my name here... Right here... And anyone who'd try to touch you would see it there... They'd know, they'd always know."
"My..." Chiyu bites his lip to keep another quiet cry inside. "My heart is... already yours..."
"Tsch." The gentle caresses stop, and for a while Chiyu is left panting. Then, he tenses as cold metal strokes his skin right by his heart. The blade is sharp, but there's not enough pressure to actually cut. Still, Chiyu finds himself terrified. The boy leans to push a hand into his brown hair, pulls his head close, kisses him roughly. "Do you", the rough voice quietly mumbles between pecks and kisses, "want me?"
The knife runs lower toward Chiyu's stomach, all the way to his navel, and then to the side. The Osakan tries to stay still, not press against the blade. The hand in his hair is bandaged. "Yes, but..." He feels the rough edge of the knife press down harder for a moment. "But not like this."
"Then?"
"The way it used to be--" He cries out as the blade cuts ever so slightly. Not deep enough to cause bleeding, but it hurts nevertheless. Wounds always hurt.
"Here, you have me", the boy mumbles, "after all this time. I'm offering you a chance, and you refuse."
"I do want you!" Chiyu breathes out. "Just not like this!"
The boy pulls away. Chiyu feels his shirt slowly run down his body. He breathes harsh, leans a little forward on the smooth seat. The sound of something being placed on the table nearby.
"How was it with him?" the voice finally asks.
"...Chisa...?"
"No, Cleopatra."
Chiyu bites his lip. He's sure Takeru's watching. "Okay", he says, finally.
"How do you want me?"
"I want to hold you."
"Tsch." Hands press against his knees and Chiyu feels the other's breath on his face. "You're saying you wouldn't enjoy it a bit if I'd make you fuck me here."
"I--" Chiyu bites his teeth together. Of course he wants the boy, but here? He wants to hold the blonde close, he wants to be gentle, he wants to show how much Takeru means to him. Here, it's not the same. Here, it's not the same.
The bandaged hand pulls off the cloth binding his wrists together. Chiyu is quick to reach forwards - so quick it must have surprised the other boy as Takeru stands still, tense in his embrace, now. Chiyu leans his head against the blonde's stomach, clings to him almost desperately. "Please..."
Takeru begins to wiggle, and then forces Chiyu to look up, fingers squeezing his chin a little. "Fuck me", the boy murmurs, his tone almost mocking.
Chiyu gives up.
He feels nauseated and confused. But at the same time, some part of him finds this strangely comforting. His fingers tremble a little as he pulls the boy an inch closer, kisses the smooth abdomen and tugs down the loose pants. The blonde does nothing to help him. Chiyu kicks off the jeans, helping with one hand, while holding the fragile frame with the other, switching hands accordingly to get the jacket off.
The Osakan feels slightly better as he catches the blonde muffle a whimper into one hand.
He tugs Takeru close, strokes the smooth legs, guides the blonde back onto himself. He'd wished for a beautiful, private moment after all the apologies, all the talking. This is nothing like that. Takeru cries out softly as Chiyu carefully pushes inside him.
It's primal.
Nails dig into his shoulders and arms. Each movement is rough, no matter how tender Chiyu tries to be. The blonde tugs his hair, bites his earlobe, their movements are out of sync and Chiyu does his best to help the boy to stay in the same pace. The blonde swings his hips against the Osakan like it was a fierce dance.
Chiyu lets Takeru care for his own pleasure, not the brunette's. One hand on the boy's hips, the other supporting his back, Chiyu moans, the sounds muffled between them. The other's cries grow hurried, slightly louder, until he buries his face into the curve of Chiyu's neck.
The small, fragile frame tenses, the nails press into the tanned skin slightly harder, and Chiyu grimaces.
As suddenly as it's come to happen it's over. But unlike the platinum blonde earlier, Takeru stays for a longer time, waiting for his breathes to calm down. Chiyu leans back, pulls the boy with him, holds him close.
And then, hissing, the boy pulls himself free and disappears from Chiyu's reach. The Osakan listens to the steps and the sound of the trousers. He lets a surprised groan as the jeans and underwear are tossed onto his lap.
They do not exchange any more words. Chiyu gets dressed, standing up and feeling the pockets for his things. Nothing's missing. As he's done, he stands still, his heart still beating faster than usual.
Then, to his surprise, there's a small, quick peck on his cheek, followed by hurried steps that tell Chiyu he's been left alone. He tugs down the blindfold, but it's too late to catch sight of the boy. Only the scent remains behind the blonde.
There's no point staying here, anymore. Chiyu starts wandering through the club. On his way he catches a glimpse of the platinum blonde boy, naked, two guys all over him. Chiyu averts his eyes as the other one gets onto the small male. He feels embarrassed to see it.
At the doorway the same black-clad man is fiddling with his phone. He nods to Chiyu, and the Osakan nods back before hurrying up the stairs.
The subway back to Roppongi is nearly empty. Chiyu doesn't see many people on the short walk home, either. He takes the elevator up, gets the door, and kicks his shoes off before pulling the door shut. The apartment is quiet, peaceful, but far from relaxing, now.
The brunette strips in the hallway and takes a cold shower.
Then, he gets a beer, drowns it nearly once, and heads straight to bed, unable to sleep. His mind mulls over what's just happened. Although it feels so wrong and makes his heart ache the fresh memories of the blonde on top of him make him hard (the cold shower couldn't wash away the memories), and Chiyu jerks off in hopes of relaxing. It doesn't help.
He keeps rolling in bed for hours before giving up and getting another beer. Sleep won't come.
In the meanwhile as Chiyu rolls in bed, the ashen blonde has found his way home, although it's taken some twists and turns and detours. Fake glasses with thick rims and a woolen scarf pulled all the way up to his nose cover the tear streams, clothes hide his scars and bruises and shield his broken heart, but nothing can make the pain stop. It hurts. God, he hurts. Not for what happened; no, it's not really a physical pain, although he can still clearly imagine how Chiyu felt like inside him, how the arms felt around him.
He kicks the shoes off, nearly falls over, slams a hand on the floor to keep himself up. Panting, his heart beats out of control. He doesn't need to try to hide it anymore, as the apartment is empty and no-one will see him now.
The boy pushes the coat off, struggling, his left arm getting stuck in the sleeve; viciously shaking the limb he manages to toss the coat off, kicking it aside as he strides into the kitchen and pulls a bottle of vodka from one of the cupboards under the sink. Opening the bottle, drinking the clear liquid like juice, his throat burns and he doesn't care. As he stops and puts the bottle on the sink system his irritated lungs throw him into a coughing frenzy. The boy bends into two. Drops of blood drip on the floor, but only few, and he doesn't notice them as he holds his eyes shut.
The pain doesn't seem to plan on leaving any time soon.
Leaving the bottle uncapped on the sink by the dishes and discarded newspapers from the past few days he goes to his room, and the tears won't stop staining his face. His heart aches.
"Why", he yells to himself, aloud, "did you do that?!"
The bandaged hand tosses things off the chair. Angry, breathing heavily, the boy stands in front of the mirror, trembling. The image facing him does not speak as if it knew better.
He smashes the mirror with his hands. Pieces chip on the floor, a hundred shards reflecting his images. Wounds on his hands, now, he backs up.
It hurts.
Why does it hurt like this?
He wants to send messages of apologies, he wants to go to the brunette, cry his tears dry, beg for Chiyu to forgive, everything. He wants to be held again.
"Weakling", he mumbles to himself.
He can't allow himself to. Tonight has scarred his heart so deep, what good could come out of making any more rushed decisions like that? He'd only get more hurt, it'd be more painful. Chiyu is tangled into a mess created by that guy (he won't allow himself to voice the name, not now), and even if Takeru would rush to him and beg and apologize and do all that Chiyu would probably refuse. Although Hazuki has told him Chiyu was able to connect some dots it doesn't mean the brunette would necessarily believe him. And the way he knows Shinpei (the name slips and makes him shudder) is only further proof that the boy a year older than him would make the perfect epitome of a liar; who knows what does he say if Chiyu confronts him about this all.
Such a mess.
Gods, he hates himself.
Usually, typically, he doesn't mind pain. No, Takeru has built up a thick skin and knows how to ignore it. He doesn't have a hard time drinking spirits though it hurts, he doesn't mind being yelled at, he doesn't notice cuts and bruises. Even the previous night at another club just like tonight's didn't leave him feeling pain like this despite all the guys. But hearing the velvet voice cry out the desire to hold him just like back then has hurt him more than any other person ever could.
Because he cares.
The ashen blonde screams, as if that would help.
He doesn't know how to rid himself of this pain. Alcohol won't make it any easier. Leaving, again, and finding a bar or some one-night company won't help. No, he's tried everything, already, back when it wasn't even as difficult, back when the pain wasn't this great. His heart had been broken, sure; but it wasn't like this.
The door opens and closes and Takeru hears speech. He's left the room door hanging open, and therefore, upon passing by, Hazuki faces the sight dead on. He hears the button-eyed brunette mumble, "Yuuri, go into my room, ok?"
Soon after arms wrap around him and Takeru begins wiggling madly. Hazuki brings him down onto the floor, sitting with him, just like always, and Takeru scratches him, stains his shirt with the blood on his knuckles, hits him and bites him like an animal. The tears push their way out again, but the boy doesn't let himself care as he hisses and kicks.
It doesn't take Hazuki long to figure this time isn't just like always. He tries to fish both hands into his grip, but Takeru's making it impossible, and Hazuki isn't certain where is all the energy and power coming from. He manages to catch one hand for long enough to see the wounds, then suffers a kick on his side and lets out a soft "oof". That does it; using the brief time frame during which Takeru is occupied biting his shoulder strong enough to at least to leave a mark Hazuki wraps an arm around the waist and forces the blonde lying on the floor, his weight on top of the small body. This only throws more coal into the fire, and Takeru screams like someone was really hurting him.
Hazuki has to close out the pain and fear to pin the thin wrists onto the floor above Takeru's head. He can't do much to stop the legs from kicking viciously, and therefore can't get up either, as he knows moving from here would definitely leave him defenseless and earn him a kick on the stomach or elsewhere painful.
"Takeru", he breathes out. "Takeru, calm down. Fuck, calm down!"
"Why'd you let me do it?!" screams the boy, and Hazuki is taken over by surprise. Brown eyes stare into the blackest gaze. The boy has lost the glasses during the fight, but is still wearing contact lenses, and therefore Hazuki knows Takeru has no hard time seeing. "Why'd you let me?!"
"Shhhh." Hazuki isn't sure what to say and plays this card to get more time to answer. Takeru won't stop wiggling. "What happened?"
"Why'd you let me see him?!"
The picture grows a little clearer now, and Hazuki understands what Takeru is talking about. His shoulder stings where the teeth have pierced the skin. "You wanted to see him", the brunette sighs.
"But it hurts!"
"Calm down."
"It hurts!" cries the boy. His body trembles, and the wiggling stops, but he won't give up kicking.
"Calm down. Calm down..."
He can't tell apart the next words as Takeru cries, tears streaming down his cheeks. The small body loosens up, and Hazuki dares to let go of the wrists in order to wrap his arms around the tiny frame. He feels like he was holding a child as he rolls off, pulls the boy up and presses Takeru against his chest.
"Shhhh. Everything's ok."
Gently, slowly, soothingly he sways the boy a little, the sobs muffling into his shirt. Turning to look past his shoulder a bit Hazuki can see Yuuri peeking in at the doorway. A small smile upon his lips Hazuki says, "Yuuri, could you get a glass of water."
"Okay." The redhead disappears for a moment and then comes back with one, handing it to Hazuki who now peeks down enough to see the tear-stained face. The black eyes are wary, open, and turn to Hazuki as soon as the brunette comes to view like a cat's.
"Takeru. Are you going to hit me?"
No answer, but the lack of action taking place makes Hazuki dare to offer the glass to the boy. Hesitatingly, as if suspicious, Takeru accepts it and gulps the water down fast. Hazuki hands the glass back to Yuuri and asks the third male to bring another one. Upon Yuuri returning Hazuki places the glass onto the now empty chair, thanking the other, telling Yuuri to go try get some sleep. "I'll be there soon."
They remain like this, now, in silence. Finally Hazuki asks, "Want me to check your hands?"
"No", says Takeru.
"All right. Will you sleep?"
"No", the boy huffs.
Hazuki sighs. "Speak to me." He's half convinced it's a useless request, but the previous night has left him hopeful to a point.
Takeru remains quiet for a while. He's not kicking and wiggling anymore, nor is he relaxed; his body is tense, frozen into position, and the eyes are full of wrath and pain. He wonders if it's okay to tell what happened. He might trust Hazuki, but is this between him and Chiyu? Is this pain only his, something he can't share, or shouldn't share? "No", he says finally.
"Fine", says Hazuki. The brunette lets go of him, but for a while, Takeru won't move. Then, the boy crawls away, over the broken mirror and into the corner, holding his knees close to his body, shielding whatever is left of his heart.
Hazuki sits on the floor for a moment longer, watching the boy. Then, he moves to collect the pieces of the mirror. Takeru follows his movements, suspicious, waiting for Hazuki to speak up if the other will. He can't decide whether he wants company or not, whether silence is worse than listening to someone speak, be it meaningful or not.
"Do you want something?" the brunette asks after a while.
Yes, thinks the boy, but he won't voice that wish. Instead, he chews on his lip and refuses.
Nodding, Hazuki gets up, leaving the room, closing the door after himself.
Chiyu goes to sit in the kitchen. It's past three am, but he can't make himself sleep, no matter how he tries. The recent memories haunt him, the voices, the touches, the warmth of the other's body, and scent... It could have been perfect.
Some part of him is angry at himself. Why wouldn't he make the boy stay, why'd he go with the whole blindfold deal, why'd he accept everything like that? Why'd he surrender instead of fighting, why did he let the boy go?
Why?
To show he didn't want to force Takeru to stay, if the other didn't want to?
He places his hand idly on his cheek where the gentle, hurried peck has left a permanent tingle.
In a sense what happened feels like a dream. His body is still confused from the how suddenly things happened while his brain has managed to form a fine timeline and, despite having been unable to see, clear imagery and memories. Chiyu wonders how does Takeru feel like. Is the boy proud of having brought the Osakan to his knees and for having cracked his relationship with Shinpei a little more? The shallow wound on his side hurts despite Chiyu having cleaned it properly and put a bandage on it.
If I were to cut you, brand you, mark you mine, what'd you do?
His elbows on the tabletop Chiyu covers his face into his hands, thinking. What else could he have answered? That he'd accept it? That he'd be happy with it? The latter answer, he knows, probably wouldn't have made the blonde happy. He knows the reason why Takeru had a hard time trusting him was because of every other person trying to do just that to the boy. He thinks of how Takeru's brother talked to him about the guys the blonde used to hang out with.
Would he, himself, accept such?
No, Chiyu thinks, he probably wouldn't. Takeru is probably the only person in the world he'd ever allow to do such a thing. Had the blonde decided to carve his name on Chiyu's flesh, the Osakan probably would have lived with it, but would anyone else try, he wouldn't be able to take it.
Exactly.
He looks out of the window, stares into the distance. Is that what Takeru was trying to tell him? Still, something is missing. He frowns. Has someone done such a thing to the boy?
Chiyu can't remember seeing such scars on the pale body, and comes to the conclusion it must have been something of a figure of speech, unless the wounds have fully healed and only left the burning white scars on the blonde's heart rather than his frame. He bites his lip. Exactly, the whisper echoes in his head.
Scarred for life.
But Chiyu wants to help. Chiyu wants to make it better. Patch up the wounds, help them heal, hold the boy with the blackest eyes soothingly. Why can't Takeru let him? The boy must feel hurt, so why won't he let Chiyu make it better?
He doesn't understand.
"Let me help you", he mumbles to no-one.
Why is it so difficult?
He thinks about Shinpei.
Should he tell this to the boy? Should he try to explain? Or is it better not to? Chiyu comes to the conclusion that, no matter how honest he'd like to be, it's probably better to keep this to himself. Although he promised to tell Shinpei if Takeru would hurt him (Chiyu isn't quite sure if he has, now), he's certain that this is not something Shinpei should know.
He wonders why has Shinpei asked him to promise to tell. Out of worry, maybe. Maybe, seeing as how Chiyu has behaved since that day, the small male is simply really worried of him and wants to help, make Chiyu voice the thoughts, and offer an ear. Chiyu leans back in the chair. But besides that, what could Shinpei do to make it any better?
Sighing, he gets up and finds his phone. Deciding against calling he writes Masato a mail: I met Takeru. Need to talk.
He wonders if he should message Mitsuru as well; the black-haired male would probably offer very wise and helpful, or at least calming suggestions and advice. But he doesn't want to bother Mitsuru with this now as he doesn't know whether Masato has talked with him. Chiyu wants Masato to solve his own problems with the tall male rather than explain the situation for the posh young man.
It takes a while, but eventually, the phone rings. Before Chiyu can even voice a greeting Masato is already coming through the phone lines. "What happened? Where'd you see him? What? Tell me."
The Osakan can't help but chuckle quietly, although dryly and humorlessly. He goes to sit down in the living room. The curtains are drawn here, as well. The night sky is pitch black and only a few apartments in the opposite building are alit. "Uh. I was invited to a club--"
"Which? Where?"
"Oi, take it easy." He frowns a little. Voicing the memories is making them worse, again. "Heaven in Kabuki-cho."
Masato doesn't speak for a moment, then says, "I take it you had no idea what was going on there."
"No. ...You do?"
"Err, I heard from a friend... It's something they do every Saturday..." The other's voice is embarrassed, now, and Chiyu shakes his head.
"It's okay. I'm alive." Barely, he hums to himself in his mind.
"So what happened?"
"I met Chisa", Chiyu says, biting his lip.
"I understand", replies Masato, and Chiyu can hear in the other's voice that Masato has gotten what mentioning the platinum blonde's name means. Chiyu doesn't go into detail about Chisa.
Instead, he continues by saying, "I was blindfolded." His cheeks turn bright red in a blink as he realizes how it sounds like. Therefore, he hurries to add, "Like, I mean, not during... Not for the..."
Masato giggles like a girl and Chiyu bites his tongue, frowning. "What I mean is, afterwards. I was blindfolded and led to another room."
"What happened then? Did you...?"
"I met Takeru", Chiyu says fairly bluntly. Spitting it out aloud makes the whole visit to the club turn into reality inside his head. It's true, he really did meet Takeru. "We had sex."
Admitting this to Masato isn't exactly embarrassing or uncomfortable. Chiyu is aware of how lewd Masato can be despite the prim and proper outer shell; and yet, despite Masato being caring and gentle he doesn't react the same way to such news as Yuji would. Yuji would tease him about it or ask him for all the dirty details. Masato does with figuring it out himself, doesn't make Chiyu feel uncomfortable by pressuring him.
They're both silent. Masato seems to be trying to build up some understanding as to why. Chiyu waits for him to be done. "Did he say anything?"
"Some things... Asking me how'd I react if someone would mark me theirs and such. He had me blinded all the time. Or rather... I accepted being blindfolded all the time."
"How did he behave?"
"...He kissed my cheek before leaving", Chiyu says, and is certain this small thing tells much more than going into detail about the knife, the wound, the tease, the ordering tone.
Fuck me.
He shakes his head and closes his eyes to gently rub the lids.
"Are you okay?" Masato asks softly.
"Yeah. No. I don't know. I'm really confused. I think he wanted me to think about how he'd been treated... but... by whom or when or how, exactly, I don't really know. I don't even know if it matters. Hazuki told me I could just accept not knowing everything."
Masato sighs and falls silent as he thinks. "Do you want to meet up?"
"I'm a wreck. I'm not sure if I'm very good company."
"That's okay. I'm not too far away from where you live, actually..."
***
Knowing Roppongi hills and the bars and restaurants Chiyu has taken the time to dress up instead of dressing down; although he's kept the jeans he's switched the shirt and shoes, dumped the jacket completely, and even looked for a few necklaces and rings he hasn't worn for the past week. He still feels like a mess, but hopes that looking stylish will help him to avoid odd looks.
Masato is waiting for him outside the bar-restaurant, smoking, wearing some expensive brandwear which Chiyu can't name to save his life. They hardly exchange words while both finish a cigarette and then move inside. The interior is just as expensive as the menu probably is. A few businessmen and a band of hosts are scattered around the restaurant, some eating, most just drinking. Masato rises his hand and orders some oddly named cocktail; Chiyu goes for a beer, afraid for his wallet.
"Are you okay?" Masato asks as the waitress brings their drinks. Chiyu takes a small sip of the beer, sighs, and leans back on the cushions. They're sitting at a log glass table on leather sofas with sharp shapes. Chiyu figures this forms a lounge of some sort, while the taller tables and chairs belong to the restaurant area.
"I guess. As fine as I can be, I guess, when considering the situation."
Masato nods and fishes the olive from the drink, eating it thoughtfully. "How was your day, besides that?"
"It was ok..." Chiyu sighs. "I met Shinpei in the morning to ask him some things."
"And?"
"He admitted he knows Takeru. But... Either Takeru has changed a lot since then, or then..." He doesn't voice it - he doesn't want to believe Shinpei would lie to him.
"Were they close?"
"Well, according to him, not really. He said they got along, went to the same school, and that they'd occasionally hang out, play basketball..." He sips the beer again. "And then, apparently Takeru assumed they were dating, and Shinpei told him they weren't, and they didn't meet again."
He turns to look at Masato. "You've known Takeru for longer than I have."
"True", Masato nods. "Although I don't know about Shinpei and him."
"But would Takeru have done that? Thought something like that and then gotten so hurt he'd hate Shinpei, now?"
"I'm not sure." Throwing a leg over the other Masato looks somewhere up towards the ceiling with the drink in one hand, the other hand on his knee. He looks like a model posing for a photo. "I can imagine Takeru would have gotten hurt, but..."
"But?"
"I can't say whether it adds up or not." Turning to look at Chiyu, Masato has a worried look on his face. "Takeru hung out with a lot of bad people. He's got a reputation of sorts amongst certain groups, even. You know that."
"Yeah. I can't imagine him ever having gone to school."
Masato chuckles. "I've seen him in a school uniform, but only once, and he hadn't gone to school." A small smile remains on his lips for a while. "What I mean is, he might've really known Shinpei through school even though he probably went in very little. But even so, with him having hung out with all those people, I can't imagine how Shinpei would fit the picture. As far as I'm concerned, Takeru spent all day long in clubs or out doing something, err, odd, if you will."
Chiyu nods. "You're saying Shinpei would have to have to do with those people, too."
"...Yes. I don't want to upset you, but... That's what I think."
The Osakan shakes his head a bit. "It's okay. I get what you mean." He bites his lip. Masato takes a sip of the cocktail. "Why wouldn't Shinpei tell me, though?"
"Maybe he doesn't want to?" Masato tilts his head with a deep pondering look in his eyes. Tonight they're bright blue like sapphires. "Maybe he's embarrassed of it, or he's put it behind him, and doesn't want you to know."
"Although I'd be fine with it."
"You should let him know."
"Mm..." Chiyu sighs. "I don't want to believe he'd lie to me."
"Maybe", Masato says, "he's lying only because it concerns Takeru."
The brunette raises his brows. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, Shinpei and Takeru aren't close, anymore. A way or another, Takeru got hurt, and Shinpei is related to it. Maybe Shinpei isn't happy about you having brought Takeru up, to begin with, or upset about Takeru making his appearance, again."
"Do you think Shinpei knew I know Takeru?" Chiyu puts the beer down on the table.
"I'm not sure", Masato shakes his head. "I guess it's possible."
"Doesn't everybody know Takeru, these days", mumbles Chiyu.
"...Sort of, I guess."
They remain silent for a moment. Masato sips the drink slowly; Chiyu occasionally picks up the beer.
"If Shinpei knows about me and Takeru", Chiyu begins finally, but doesn't continue for a while as he collects his thoughts. "If he knows, and he doesn't like Takeru, why wouldn't he tell me not to talk about him."
"Maybe he simply didn't want to hurt your feelings."
"Maybe. I hope so."
You're just a pawn, the memory of the notes left for him said. You're nothing more to him than game.
Prey. Petty, meaningless prey sacrificed for the king.
***
He walks Masato outside to a crossroads and waits for the boy's ride. The slick black car glides along the street and comes to a halt where they're standing; the neatly dressed driver steps out to hold the boy the door. Chiyu is always as amazed by this. He doesn't know Masato's parents, but wouldn't be surprised if they turned out to be members of some part of the government or related to the Emperor himself.
"I'm sorry I can't help you more", Masato says with a sigh.
"It's okay... I'll be fine." Chiyu attempts a smile, and mock-salutes with one hand. Masato chuckles.
"If there's anything you want to talk about, don't hesitate to call me."
"Yeah. Have a safe trip home."
"Thank you."
Masato slips onto the back seat and the driver closes the door. He bows a bit to Chiyu, who does the same, and then goes to the driver's seat. The car disappears from sight, and Chiyu starts walking towards home.
In the car, Masato rests his eyes on the passing scenery of the tall apartment buildings and the beautiful night embracing the world. The hum of the road is barely audible.
"Sir", the driver speaks up from the front seat, and Masato nods a little. "You seem most concerned."
"I am", the young man breathes out. "I think Chiyu is a good person. What he's going through is wrong."
"And you feel troubled for not being able to help a friend?"
"Yes." He smiles a little, turns to look at the rear mirror via which he can see a part of the driver's face. "And Takeru is important to me, too..."
"How is the young sir?"
"You don't have to be so polite." Masato chuckles. "Takeru... Takeru is... he isn't okay, either. I'm worried about him. But he won't let me help."
"May I give a small word of advice?"
"Please", Masato sighs.
"You must use your persistent side. Eventually, I am sure they both will listen. Sir, you are a very kind person, but you must not let people use you." The driver's eyes visit the mirror and meet Masato's gaze. "Be persistent. Like you are to your mother."
Masato laughs, and the driver smiles. "Thank you. I'll keep that in mind."
"On the subject of the ma'am", the driver continues, "she was invited to a banquet by one of her American acquaintances, and I took her to the airport an hour ago."
"When will she be back?"
"On Monday evening."
"And dad?"
"Master is at home, but working." The eyes visit Masato, again. "As usual."
"Mm..." Masato nods a little, looks outside.
"Master expressed some worry about your coming and going earlier. He asked me to look after you properly."
"Do you think dad would mind if I asked Takeru to come over? It's been a while..."
"I am most certain master would not mind. After all, even during his work, he wishes for your best, and the ma'am wishes for your happiness."
"Tell me", the boy says as they turn to the yard, "do you remember Shinpei? Chiyu's friend?"
"I believe I drove mr Igarashi and his friend from Shibuya to Roppongi, once."
"Yes. How did he seem like, to you?"
The driver parks the car in front of the fine house, turns off the engine, and thinks. "Like all your young friends he seemed surprised. What exactly do you mean, sir?"
"I mean... You're good at reading people."
"It comes as a part of my occupation. But thank you very much."
"So what kind of an image did you have of him?"
"Of course, this is just my personal opinion and I do not mean to affect yours, sir", the driver says, and looks over his shoulder at Masato, who nods patiently, "but this young sir seemed like a very good liar."
Masato thinks for a second, then smiles softly. "Well", he says, "I'd still like to believe I can do better than him."
The driver steps out and comes to open the door for him. "Master is a very good teacher, after all. Good night, sir."
hypnophobia hyp·no·pho·bi·a 【ˈhɪpnoˈfəʊbiə】(n) An abnormal fear of falling asleep.
Chapter: #8/#?
Author: rookie_cherii
Band/Pairing: Chiyu x Takeru (SuG)
Rating: VERY NC-17
Warnings: ALL DAT SEX AND VIOLENCE MAN
Summary: Chiyu has found a new path to follow and his life seems to be back on track. Then, an unexpected incident pulls him into the nights of Tokyo, and back to the blackest eyes of the boy he thought had forgotten about him.
Comments: OMFGWHUT SMUTTY ARK IS SMUTTY. I'm really sorry. This isn't even the last of it. Part 2 of chapter 8; part 1 is here.
Disclaimer: Don't own.
At 10:30 in the evening the brunette leaves his home, dressed down, taking only the necessities - the train cards and his phone, and a few thousand in cash - with him. Making sure the door is locked before leaving the brunette takes the stairs and walks to the subway station. The air is cool, normal for this time of the year; the sky is dark and cloudy, and the moon can hardly be seen through the duvet spread above the city. Still, it's a rather beautiful night. The subway station is peaceful at such hour. Less trains are running, and most of the people are salarymen coming from late business dinners or from the well-known bars and restaurants of Roppongi. Amongst them Chiyu looks almost like an exception in his short leather jacket and casual tight jeans combined to a loose long-sleeve shirt that hangs a little lower over his chest. If one would stop and have a look they'd realize how tired his eyes are, but no-one pays attention. No, that's Japan for you, he thinks to himself; everyone around him is minding their own business, which only puts more emphasis on the fact that half the men here are coming from strip clubs and going home to their wives and children.
In the train he gets the whole bench to himself. There's a guy playing on his Nintendo further away, and someone's reading a magazine.
In Shinjuku, though, things are completely different. The city is as alive as ever. It's Saturday, after all; it's as if half the city had gathered here. Chiyu is glad for not having taken a bag. He follows the map he's memorized, hoping he'll make it. The caller (he's quite certain it was Takeru, but Chiyu doesn't want to get his hopes up) told him not to be late, after all. Moving in the crowd is slow as there's so much people.
Finally, he finds the place. The entrance is between a hostess bar and a love hotel, and from the same entrance a stairway leads up to a karaoke bar. There's a guy his age handing out flyers outside. Chiyu manages to avoid getting one as the boy stops to give instructions to someone who's actually interested.
The signs lead him to the stairway down underground. Low on the wall hang small lights that illuminate the stairway, but yet Chiyu manages to nearly trip over twice or thrice. Halfway down he can hear the music, already. It's loud and darker than that of an average club; no squeaky female voices, but heavy guitars mixed into some computer midi sounds accompanied with speech and occasional singing that's hidden into the background of the music.
He pays the entrance fee at the end of the stairs. The man collecting the money is dressed in black and has a short hair, but he's not exactly scary like the stereotype of a security guard. They don't exchange words, but he looks at Chiyu curiously, as if wanting to ask something. Instead of doing so he parts the heavy red curtain that's covering the doorway.
The music grows louder as he steps past the curtain, giving the man one last look, unsure of whether he's supposed to speak to him or not. Turning to look at the club, Chiyu finds himself frozen on spot as his chocolate eyes examine the view.
The club is larger than what he's expected, illuminated by lights that are constantly changing color. The walls have been covered with fabrics and black leather sofas are lined against them. In the middle the floor, round in shape, is lower than the other parts, and has leather-covered railings on the edges to keep people from tripping over. A bar is placed behind the what-would-be-a-dancefloor, and two girls in leather costumes are serving drinks. Walls separate some areas of the whole hall and from where he's standing Chiyu can't see the end of the club.
But it's not the interior decorating which has made him regret accepting the whole game. It's the crowd and what's going on on stage. People, clothed or not, are everywhere, touching each other, on top of each other, and - Chiyu can't look, it's too much. He closes his eyes for a while. On stage a woman is cutting her arms and the music covers the voices of the customers. While some are enjoying drinks it's clear only the minority is actually fully clothed and not in direct skin contact exchanging whatever bodily fluids possible.
The brunette is ready to turn right around and leave when a thin arm comes to wrap around his. Surprised, almost afraid of what's going on, he lowers his gaze to find the platinum blonde boy standing next to him, examining the crowd without any real concern in his expression. Then, Chisa turns to look up at the Osakan, smiles softly, almost soothingly, and yells across the music, "Surprised?"
"Yeah", answers Chiyu. At least his wish about knowing someone here is granted. The scent of the boy's perfume, or maybe the memory of it, comes to him again, filling his nostrils. It's a pleasant scent, although Chiyu can't help but feel like he was betraying someone, again. Chisa tugs him on the move, and they pass by the dancefloor and people taking over the sofas.
"Is Hazuki here, too?" Chiyu cries out to the boy as they have to stop to wait to get past some people not minding others too much.
"No", the small male answers across the noise. He's wearing a short-sleeved shirt and black shorts over a pair of leggings. The black shoes seem a size too large.
"Then--" They're on the move again and Chiyu gives up.
Finally they come to a set of sofas partly separated from the rest by a wall. There's a table in between, and no-one is occupying the seats. On the table there's a half-full glass of something clear, the ice melting in the heat, and five shot glasses, a bottle of beer and some vodka mix drink. Chisa pulls Chiyu on the sofa, sitting him down, and pushes the beer at him.
"Why was I asked to come here?" Chiyu asks, finally. Over here the music isn't as loud as on the other side of the walls, but he still needs to shout for Chisa to hear his voice. The thin boy is gulping down the vodka mix, looking sideways at him. Putting the bottle back down Chisa leans in close, and Chiyu catches the scent of the drink in the air.
"To see something", answers the platinum blonde male, speaking close to his ear so that Chiyu can hear him properly. The brunette can feel the lips against his skin, and his spine shudders as cold creeps run down his back. "Maybe to learn something?"
"Did Takeru ask me to come?"
No answer. Instead, the boy nibbles on his earlobe. It's impossible for Chiyu to deny the fact that it feels nice and almost relaxing in a way. If he closes his eyes he can almost picture it's someone else. "Did someone tell you to do this?"
"Hmm~", coos the boy.
"Is that a yes?"
"Don't worry. Drink. Relax. I'm not going to hurt you." Chisa giggles, the sound tingling his ear.
"Please. Tell me. I promise to chill if you tell me." The brunette turns to look at Chisa, who reaches for the vodka mix and drinks more. Chiyu smells the beer, but isn't too sure about whether it's ok to drink it. Whoever could have put something in it.
Having put the bottle down, again, Chisa speaks up. "I told you I have a boyfriend, didn't I? Half the people here work at offices or schools, train stations or restaurants. I work a little different, but it's a job, nevertheless."
"So you were asked to."
"It's all right with me." The blonde smiles, and Chiyu can tell it's genuine, that the boy means what he's saying. That it's all right. Part of his brain is yelling at him, telling Chiyu to hurry up and go home. This isn't his place, and if he wants to fool around he could just call Shinpei, like any other sane person would call their girl- or boyfriend.
But the thought of Shinpei doesn't make him feel any better, nor does it make him feel any worse, either. In fact, to his own surprise, Chiyu finds himself fairly indifferent about the small brunette. Once again he questions whether it's love that he feels toward the short male. Is this how the people who deliberately cheat feel like, he wonders, or should he simply call the boy later to talk about us and not Takeru? Although Shinpei expressed he'd been afraid of the subject.
His thoughts are cut by the kisses on his neck, the hand tugging the jacket off his shoulders. The brunette lets his eyes slide shut and he bites his lip, exhaling via his nose. Man, he wants a cigarette. The scent of perfume is intoxicating, and the smooth lips on his skin aren't helping. Chisa moves a tad closer, Chiyu can feel it, and lands a kiss on the corner of the Osakan male's mouth.
Fuck. Whatever. Chiyu pulls the boy close, remembering how light the small frame is again, kissing the lips and the neck and finally pushes the blonde down on his back.
"See, it's not too difficult", the small boy giggles as Chiyu pushes up the loose shirt to kiss the pale stomach. He wiggles a little as the lips tickle his side.
It's okay to do this, Chiyu tells himself. By all logic, Chisa has been asked to come here for him by Hazuki, who probably got his orders from Takeru. Whatever twisted logic lies behind this, Chiyu is too frustrated to care, now. His heart is pounding madly, and the slender fingers fiddling with his jeans' zip aren't making it any easier to bear.
The leggings cause him some trouble, and Chisa giggles, but whether it's at him or due to alcohol Chiyu can't tell.
He buries himself inside the boy, holding him tight, panting, listening to the soft voice moan into his ear. Chisa's hands mingle with his hair, tugging slightly. Somewhere in his head where his brain is still thinking Chiyu can't help but wonder how many of the whimpers are for real and how many times has the boy done this to have grown so good at it. Compared to the subtle movements of the small hips Chiyu feels clumsy. The boy beneath him arches his back, knows exactly what to do to drive the brunette crazy.
No-one pays any mind to what they are doing as everyone else has come here to be free of boundaries, too. No lines to be pushed, no rules to be broken.
He comes with a groan, wraps his fingers around the other, feels the blonde's hand on his. Kisses on the lips, neck, ears and chest. Heavy breathes and the heat of the small body, the warm drops of sweat. Chiyu doesn't pay mind to the hair sticking to his neck and forehead. He wishes he would've at least lost the jacket completely.
Chisa urges him off quickly after the white fluid has smeared the pale stomach despite the trembles running through his frame. Chiyu feels exhausted, but at the same time relaxed. He watches the platinum blonde pick a paper tissue from the pocket of the shorts, clean himself. Instead of pulling the leggings and shorts on immediately he tugs the shirt down, bends a lean leg on the black sofa, and smiles at the brunette. Chiyu pulls the boxers and jeans back on, uncomfortable.
"Are you... Are you ok?" he manages to ask, finally.
"I'm fine." Chisa can't hold the soft, amused chuckle. "I'd have told you if you had been hurting me."
"What... What does... Uh." The brunette is sort of confused. The previous time he talked with the boy had been different from this, and the first time they'd met Chisa had left right away. This is the first time he's attempting to chat with a stranger after sex. "What does your boyfriend...?"
"Think about this?"
"Yeah."
"He understands why I do it." Chisa finishes the drink. "Every time I ask him Shikito tells me I'm silly. I love you the way you are, he says."
Chiyu nods. He can understand. He loves Takeru the way the quirky blonde is.
Before he can concentrate on the thought something covers his eyes, and the world becomes but soft darkness. "What--"
The soft, warm hands come on his cheeks, and Chisa's voice says, "Shhhhh... Don't worry."
There's someone else behind him, sitting down, but as Chiyu tries to bring his hands to pull off the cloth covering his vision Chisa grabs his wrists, pressing his hands down. This is confusing. "What's going on?"
A glass is set on the table; Chiyu guesses it's the same half-full one that was there before, unless the person who has joined them has been holding a drink all the time. Then, the third person stands up, and Chisa coos into his ear, "Don't take the scarf off. You won't have to look at people." A kiss on his earlobe; it's soothing, although Chiyu is still in a state of panic for not having any idea about what's going on. "Don't worry... You won't get hurt or ridiculed. It's all right. Trust me."
Chiyu finds it difficult to trust the small blonde's words, but as a hand comes to tug him up and away from the sofas and the tiny male Chiyu doesn't find himself resisting, either. He won't get killed in this game. Besides, wasn't he the one to accept this? If he didn't want to see Takeru again, if the boy wouldn't matter, he would be home sleeping or out with Yuji, now. If Takeru didn't matter, he wouldn't have answered the messages. If Takeru wouldn't matter...
He has no idea where is he being led, but on the way many people bump into him (or then he bumps into them). Finally after what feels like an eternity of loud music and hands and legs and occasional cries he finds himself in another similarly less loud environment. Judging by the lack of body parts in a five centimeter radius Chiyu figures they've come to another more secluded place.
As he's about to bring his hand to pull down the scarf, again, a hand forces his arm away. He can feel the person right there, in front of him. Neither speaks a word. Chiyu's exhales tremble. Then, suddenly, warm, wet lips come against his, the kiss rougher than Chisa's; at the same time arms wrap around him, quickly, easily tying his wrists behind his back. Chiyu has a hard time keeping himself from wiggling away.
His company sucks on his lip briefly before pulling back.
Chiyu runs his tongue quickly over his kiss-swollen lips. Swallowing, he exhales quietly, "Takeru."
There's no answer, but there's also no way Chiyu could be mistaken. No, he knows those lips, he'd know the feeling anywhere. But he suppresses his questions. For some reason he feels this isn't the time nor the place. And whatever has brought them together like this... It's so sudden Chiyu is certain this isn't simply the end of the whole game. No, this is something else. He can only wish the boy will explain himself.
Thus, no words are exchanged as Chiyu finds himself pushed down to a seat, his hands tied up, blindfolded. With his vision crippled he can't follow the situation properly, and he's sure the blonde finds this situation humoring in some way. The brunette accepts it, swallows it, and breathes as quietly as possible past slightly parted lips.
The familiar weight, maybe a little lighter than before, comes on his lap, calves against his thighs, and the fingers play with the hem of his shirt, pushing the piece of clothing up a little. Chiyu grimaces as the fairly long nails press into his skin and slowly pull a path down, leaving red marks behind. Smooth caresses combined to painful bites and scratches, Chiyu finds himself a mess of different emotions as he surrenders, leaning his head back as the blonde kisses the side of his neck.
For the second time tonight Chiyu isn't the one opening the jeans and tugging them down the little possible in their current position. The boy's hand is cold as the fingers stroke him, causing Chiyu to involuntarily let out a small gasp.
"If I were to cut you", the all too familiar voice whispers against the brunette's neck, the sound muffled, but still comprehensible, "brand you, mark you mine, what'd you do?"
Chiyu moans, bites his lip. As much as he loves feeling the fragile body close to him, he doesn't want it this way. "I... I don't know..."
"Scarred for life. How'd that feel?"
"I... don't know..."
"Exactly."
"Takeru..."
Chiyu breathes rapidly and a low whimper escapes him as the boy scratches his side and bites his neck. The caresses remain gentle, though, and Chiyu can feel the heat burn within his body. He wants to touch the blonde, hold him, kiss him, just have him close... This is wrong.
The other hand pushes his shirt up as far as possible, and the smooth fingertips draw meaningless patterns on his chest. Chiyu shivers. "I'd write my name here... Right here... And anyone who'd try to touch you would see it there... They'd know, they'd always know."
"My..." Chiyu bites his lip to keep another quiet cry inside. "My heart is... already yours..."
"Tsch." The gentle caresses stop, and for a while Chiyu is left panting. Then, he tenses as cold metal strokes his skin right by his heart. The blade is sharp, but there's not enough pressure to actually cut. Still, Chiyu finds himself terrified. The boy leans to push a hand into his brown hair, pulls his head close, kisses him roughly. "Do you", the rough voice quietly mumbles between pecks and kisses, "want me?"
The knife runs lower toward Chiyu's stomach, all the way to his navel, and then to the side. The Osakan tries to stay still, not press against the blade. The hand in his hair is bandaged. "Yes, but..." He feels the rough edge of the knife press down harder for a moment. "But not like this."
"Then?"
"The way it used to be--" He cries out as the blade cuts ever so slightly. Not deep enough to cause bleeding, but it hurts nevertheless. Wounds always hurt.
"Here, you have me", the boy mumbles, "after all this time. I'm offering you a chance, and you refuse."
"I do want you!" Chiyu breathes out. "Just not like this!"
The boy pulls away. Chiyu feels his shirt slowly run down his body. He breathes harsh, leans a little forward on the smooth seat. The sound of something being placed on the table nearby.
"How was it with him?" the voice finally asks.
"...Chisa...?"
"No, Cleopatra."
Chiyu bites his lip. He's sure Takeru's watching. "Okay", he says, finally.
"How do you want me?"
"I want to hold you."
"Tsch." Hands press against his knees and Chiyu feels the other's breath on his face. "You're saying you wouldn't enjoy it a bit if I'd make you fuck me here."
"I--" Chiyu bites his teeth together. Of course he wants the boy, but here? He wants to hold the blonde close, he wants to be gentle, he wants to show how much Takeru means to him. Here, it's not the same. Here, it's not the same.
The bandaged hand pulls off the cloth binding his wrists together. Chiyu is quick to reach forwards - so quick it must have surprised the other boy as Takeru stands still, tense in his embrace, now. Chiyu leans his head against the blonde's stomach, clings to him almost desperately. "Please..."
Takeru begins to wiggle, and then forces Chiyu to look up, fingers squeezing his chin a little. "Fuck me", the boy murmurs, his tone almost mocking.
Chiyu gives up.
He feels nauseated and confused. But at the same time, some part of him finds this strangely comforting. His fingers tremble a little as he pulls the boy an inch closer, kisses the smooth abdomen and tugs down the loose pants. The blonde does nothing to help him. Chiyu kicks off the jeans, helping with one hand, while holding the fragile frame with the other, switching hands accordingly to get the jacket off.
The Osakan feels slightly better as he catches the blonde muffle a whimper into one hand.
He tugs Takeru close, strokes the smooth legs, guides the blonde back onto himself. He'd wished for a beautiful, private moment after all the apologies, all the talking. This is nothing like that. Takeru cries out softly as Chiyu carefully pushes inside him.
It's primal.
Nails dig into his shoulders and arms. Each movement is rough, no matter how tender Chiyu tries to be. The blonde tugs his hair, bites his earlobe, their movements are out of sync and Chiyu does his best to help the boy to stay in the same pace. The blonde swings his hips against the Osakan like it was a fierce dance.
Chiyu lets Takeru care for his own pleasure, not the brunette's. One hand on the boy's hips, the other supporting his back, Chiyu moans, the sounds muffled between them. The other's cries grow hurried, slightly louder, until he buries his face into the curve of Chiyu's neck.
The small, fragile frame tenses, the nails press into the tanned skin slightly harder, and Chiyu grimaces.
As suddenly as it's come to happen it's over. But unlike the platinum blonde earlier, Takeru stays for a longer time, waiting for his breathes to calm down. Chiyu leans back, pulls the boy with him, holds him close.
And then, hissing, the boy pulls himself free and disappears from Chiyu's reach. The Osakan listens to the steps and the sound of the trousers. He lets a surprised groan as the jeans and underwear are tossed onto his lap.
They do not exchange any more words. Chiyu gets dressed, standing up and feeling the pockets for his things. Nothing's missing. As he's done, he stands still, his heart still beating faster than usual.
Then, to his surprise, there's a small, quick peck on his cheek, followed by hurried steps that tell Chiyu he's been left alone. He tugs down the blindfold, but it's too late to catch sight of the boy. Only the scent remains behind the blonde.
There's no point staying here, anymore. Chiyu starts wandering through the club. On his way he catches a glimpse of the platinum blonde boy, naked, two guys all over him. Chiyu averts his eyes as the other one gets onto the small male. He feels embarrassed to see it.
At the doorway the same black-clad man is fiddling with his phone. He nods to Chiyu, and the Osakan nods back before hurrying up the stairs.
The subway back to Roppongi is nearly empty. Chiyu doesn't see many people on the short walk home, either. He takes the elevator up, gets the door, and kicks his shoes off before pulling the door shut. The apartment is quiet, peaceful, but far from relaxing, now.
The brunette strips in the hallway and takes a cold shower.
Then, he gets a beer, drowns it nearly once, and heads straight to bed, unable to sleep. His mind mulls over what's just happened. Although it feels so wrong and makes his heart ache the fresh memories of the blonde on top of him make him hard (the cold shower couldn't wash away the memories), and Chiyu jerks off in hopes of relaxing. It doesn't help.
He keeps rolling in bed for hours before giving up and getting another beer. Sleep won't come.
In the meanwhile as Chiyu rolls in bed, the ashen blonde has found his way home, although it's taken some twists and turns and detours. Fake glasses with thick rims and a woolen scarf pulled all the way up to his nose cover the tear streams, clothes hide his scars and bruises and shield his broken heart, but nothing can make the pain stop. It hurts. God, he hurts. Not for what happened; no, it's not really a physical pain, although he can still clearly imagine how Chiyu felt like inside him, how the arms felt around him.
He kicks the shoes off, nearly falls over, slams a hand on the floor to keep himself up. Panting, his heart beats out of control. He doesn't need to try to hide it anymore, as the apartment is empty and no-one will see him now.
The boy pushes the coat off, struggling, his left arm getting stuck in the sleeve; viciously shaking the limb he manages to toss the coat off, kicking it aside as he strides into the kitchen and pulls a bottle of vodka from one of the cupboards under the sink. Opening the bottle, drinking the clear liquid like juice, his throat burns and he doesn't care. As he stops and puts the bottle on the sink system his irritated lungs throw him into a coughing frenzy. The boy bends into two. Drops of blood drip on the floor, but only few, and he doesn't notice them as he holds his eyes shut.
The pain doesn't seem to plan on leaving any time soon.
Leaving the bottle uncapped on the sink by the dishes and discarded newspapers from the past few days he goes to his room, and the tears won't stop staining his face. His heart aches.
"Why", he yells to himself, aloud, "did you do that?!"
The bandaged hand tosses things off the chair. Angry, breathing heavily, the boy stands in front of the mirror, trembling. The image facing him does not speak as if it knew better.
He smashes the mirror with his hands. Pieces chip on the floor, a hundred shards reflecting his images. Wounds on his hands, now, he backs up.
It hurts.
Why does it hurt like this?
He wants to send messages of apologies, he wants to go to the brunette, cry his tears dry, beg for Chiyu to forgive, everything. He wants to be held again.
"Weakling", he mumbles to himself.
He can't allow himself to. Tonight has scarred his heart so deep, what good could come out of making any more rushed decisions like that? He'd only get more hurt, it'd be more painful. Chiyu is tangled into a mess created by that guy (he won't allow himself to voice the name, not now), and even if Takeru would rush to him and beg and apologize and do all that Chiyu would probably refuse. Although Hazuki has told him Chiyu was able to connect some dots it doesn't mean the brunette would necessarily believe him. And the way he knows Shinpei (the name slips and makes him shudder) is only further proof that the boy a year older than him would make the perfect epitome of a liar; who knows what does he say if Chiyu confronts him about this all.
Such a mess.
Gods, he hates himself.
Usually, typically, he doesn't mind pain. No, Takeru has built up a thick skin and knows how to ignore it. He doesn't have a hard time drinking spirits though it hurts, he doesn't mind being yelled at, he doesn't notice cuts and bruises. Even the previous night at another club just like tonight's didn't leave him feeling pain like this despite all the guys. But hearing the velvet voice cry out the desire to hold him just like back then has hurt him more than any other person ever could.
Because he cares.
The ashen blonde screams, as if that would help.
He doesn't know how to rid himself of this pain. Alcohol won't make it any easier. Leaving, again, and finding a bar or some one-night company won't help. No, he's tried everything, already, back when it wasn't even as difficult, back when the pain wasn't this great. His heart had been broken, sure; but it wasn't like this.
The door opens and closes and Takeru hears speech. He's left the room door hanging open, and therefore, upon passing by, Hazuki faces the sight dead on. He hears the button-eyed brunette mumble, "Yuuri, go into my room, ok?"
Soon after arms wrap around him and Takeru begins wiggling madly. Hazuki brings him down onto the floor, sitting with him, just like always, and Takeru scratches him, stains his shirt with the blood on his knuckles, hits him and bites him like an animal. The tears push their way out again, but the boy doesn't let himself care as he hisses and kicks.
It doesn't take Hazuki long to figure this time isn't just like always. He tries to fish both hands into his grip, but Takeru's making it impossible, and Hazuki isn't certain where is all the energy and power coming from. He manages to catch one hand for long enough to see the wounds, then suffers a kick on his side and lets out a soft "oof". That does it; using the brief time frame during which Takeru is occupied biting his shoulder strong enough to at least to leave a mark Hazuki wraps an arm around the waist and forces the blonde lying on the floor, his weight on top of the small body. This only throws more coal into the fire, and Takeru screams like someone was really hurting him.
Hazuki has to close out the pain and fear to pin the thin wrists onto the floor above Takeru's head. He can't do much to stop the legs from kicking viciously, and therefore can't get up either, as he knows moving from here would definitely leave him defenseless and earn him a kick on the stomach or elsewhere painful.
"Takeru", he breathes out. "Takeru, calm down. Fuck, calm down!"
"Why'd you let me do it?!" screams the boy, and Hazuki is taken over by surprise. Brown eyes stare into the blackest gaze. The boy has lost the glasses during the fight, but is still wearing contact lenses, and therefore Hazuki knows Takeru has no hard time seeing. "Why'd you let me?!"
"Shhhh." Hazuki isn't sure what to say and plays this card to get more time to answer. Takeru won't stop wiggling. "What happened?"
"Why'd you let me see him?!"
The picture grows a little clearer now, and Hazuki understands what Takeru is talking about. His shoulder stings where the teeth have pierced the skin. "You wanted to see him", the brunette sighs.
"But it hurts!"
"Calm down."
"It hurts!" cries the boy. His body trembles, and the wiggling stops, but he won't give up kicking.
"Calm down. Calm down..."
He can't tell apart the next words as Takeru cries, tears streaming down his cheeks. The small body loosens up, and Hazuki dares to let go of the wrists in order to wrap his arms around the tiny frame. He feels like he was holding a child as he rolls off, pulls the boy up and presses Takeru against his chest.
"Shhhh. Everything's ok."
Gently, slowly, soothingly he sways the boy a little, the sobs muffling into his shirt. Turning to look past his shoulder a bit Hazuki can see Yuuri peeking in at the doorway. A small smile upon his lips Hazuki says, "Yuuri, could you get a glass of water."
"Okay." The redhead disappears for a moment and then comes back with one, handing it to Hazuki who now peeks down enough to see the tear-stained face. The black eyes are wary, open, and turn to Hazuki as soon as the brunette comes to view like a cat's.
"Takeru. Are you going to hit me?"
No answer, but the lack of action taking place makes Hazuki dare to offer the glass to the boy. Hesitatingly, as if suspicious, Takeru accepts it and gulps the water down fast. Hazuki hands the glass back to Yuuri and asks the third male to bring another one. Upon Yuuri returning Hazuki places the glass onto the now empty chair, thanking the other, telling Yuuri to go try get some sleep. "I'll be there soon."
They remain like this, now, in silence. Finally Hazuki asks, "Want me to check your hands?"
"No", says Takeru.
"All right. Will you sleep?"
"No", the boy huffs.
Hazuki sighs. "Speak to me." He's half convinced it's a useless request, but the previous night has left him hopeful to a point.
Takeru remains quiet for a while. He's not kicking and wiggling anymore, nor is he relaxed; his body is tense, frozen into position, and the eyes are full of wrath and pain. He wonders if it's okay to tell what happened. He might trust Hazuki, but is this between him and Chiyu? Is this pain only his, something he can't share, or shouldn't share? "No", he says finally.
"Fine", says Hazuki. The brunette lets go of him, but for a while, Takeru won't move. Then, the boy crawls away, over the broken mirror and into the corner, holding his knees close to his body, shielding whatever is left of his heart.
Hazuki sits on the floor for a moment longer, watching the boy. Then, he moves to collect the pieces of the mirror. Takeru follows his movements, suspicious, waiting for Hazuki to speak up if the other will. He can't decide whether he wants company or not, whether silence is worse than listening to someone speak, be it meaningful or not.
"Do you want something?" the brunette asks after a while.
Yes, thinks the boy, but he won't voice that wish. Instead, he chews on his lip and refuses.
Nodding, Hazuki gets up, leaving the room, closing the door after himself.
Chiyu goes to sit in the kitchen. It's past three am, but he can't make himself sleep, no matter how he tries. The recent memories haunt him, the voices, the touches, the warmth of the other's body, and scent... It could have been perfect.
Some part of him is angry at himself. Why wouldn't he make the boy stay, why'd he go with the whole blindfold deal, why'd he accept everything like that? Why'd he surrender instead of fighting, why did he let the boy go?
Why?
To show he didn't want to force Takeru to stay, if the other didn't want to?
He places his hand idly on his cheek where the gentle, hurried peck has left a permanent tingle.
In a sense what happened feels like a dream. His body is still confused from the how suddenly things happened while his brain has managed to form a fine timeline and, despite having been unable to see, clear imagery and memories. Chiyu wonders how does Takeru feel like. Is the boy proud of having brought the Osakan to his knees and for having cracked his relationship with Shinpei a little more? The shallow wound on his side hurts despite Chiyu having cleaned it properly and put a bandage on it.
If I were to cut you, brand you, mark you mine, what'd you do?
His elbows on the tabletop Chiyu covers his face into his hands, thinking. What else could he have answered? That he'd accept it? That he'd be happy with it? The latter answer, he knows, probably wouldn't have made the blonde happy. He knows the reason why Takeru had a hard time trusting him was because of every other person trying to do just that to the boy. He thinks of how Takeru's brother talked to him about the guys the blonde used to hang out with.
Would he, himself, accept such?
No, Chiyu thinks, he probably wouldn't. Takeru is probably the only person in the world he'd ever allow to do such a thing. Had the blonde decided to carve his name on Chiyu's flesh, the Osakan probably would have lived with it, but would anyone else try, he wouldn't be able to take it.
Exactly.
He looks out of the window, stares into the distance. Is that what Takeru was trying to tell him? Still, something is missing. He frowns. Has someone done such a thing to the boy?
Chiyu can't remember seeing such scars on the pale body, and comes to the conclusion it must have been something of a figure of speech, unless the wounds have fully healed and only left the burning white scars on the blonde's heart rather than his frame. He bites his lip. Exactly, the whisper echoes in his head.
Scarred for life.
But Chiyu wants to help. Chiyu wants to make it better. Patch up the wounds, help them heal, hold the boy with the blackest eyes soothingly. Why can't Takeru let him? The boy must feel hurt, so why won't he let Chiyu make it better?
He doesn't understand.
"Let me help you", he mumbles to no-one.
Why is it so difficult?
He thinks about Shinpei.
Should he tell this to the boy? Should he try to explain? Or is it better not to? Chiyu comes to the conclusion that, no matter how honest he'd like to be, it's probably better to keep this to himself. Although he promised to tell Shinpei if Takeru would hurt him (Chiyu isn't quite sure if he has, now), he's certain that this is not something Shinpei should know.
He wonders why has Shinpei asked him to promise to tell. Out of worry, maybe. Maybe, seeing as how Chiyu has behaved since that day, the small male is simply really worried of him and wants to help, make Chiyu voice the thoughts, and offer an ear. Chiyu leans back in the chair. But besides that, what could Shinpei do to make it any better?
Sighing, he gets up and finds his phone. Deciding against calling he writes Masato a mail: I met Takeru. Need to talk.
He wonders if he should message Mitsuru as well; the black-haired male would probably offer very wise and helpful, or at least calming suggestions and advice. But he doesn't want to bother Mitsuru with this now as he doesn't know whether Masato has talked with him. Chiyu wants Masato to solve his own problems with the tall male rather than explain the situation for the posh young man.
It takes a while, but eventually, the phone rings. Before Chiyu can even voice a greeting Masato is already coming through the phone lines. "What happened? Where'd you see him? What? Tell me."
The Osakan can't help but chuckle quietly, although dryly and humorlessly. He goes to sit down in the living room. The curtains are drawn here, as well. The night sky is pitch black and only a few apartments in the opposite building are alit. "Uh. I was invited to a club--"
"Which? Where?"
"Oi, take it easy." He frowns a little. Voicing the memories is making them worse, again. "Heaven in Kabuki-cho."
Masato doesn't speak for a moment, then says, "I take it you had no idea what was going on there."
"No. ...You do?"
"Err, I heard from a friend... It's something they do every Saturday..." The other's voice is embarrassed, now, and Chiyu shakes his head.
"It's okay. I'm alive." Barely, he hums to himself in his mind.
"So what happened?"
"I met Chisa", Chiyu says, biting his lip.
"I understand", replies Masato, and Chiyu can hear in the other's voice that Masato has gotten what mentioning the platinum blonde's name means. Chiyu doesn't go into detail about Chisa.
Instead, he continues by saying, "I was blindfolded." His cheeks turn bright red in a blink as he realizes how it sounds like. Therefore, he hurries to add, "Like, I mean, not during... Not for the..."
Masato giggles like a girl and Chiyu bites his tongue, frowning. "What I mean is, afterwards. I was blindfolded and led to another room."
"What happened then? Did you...?"
"I met Takeru", Chiyu says fairly bluntly. Spitting it out aloud makes the whole visit to the club turn into reality inside his head. It's true, he really did meet Takeru. "We had sex."
Admitting this to Masato isn't exactly embarrassing or uncomfortable. Chiyu is aware of how lewd Masato can be despite the prim and proper outer shell; and yet, despite Masato being caring and gentle he doesn't react the same way to such news as Yuji would. Yuji would tease him about it or ask him for all the dirty details. Masato does with figuring it out himself, doesn't make Chiyu feel uncomfortable by pressuring him.
They're both silent. Masato seems to be trying to build up some understanding as to why. Chiyu waits for him to be done. "Did he say anything?"
"Some things... Asking me how'd I react if someone would mark me theirs and such. He had me blinded all the time. Or rather... I accepted being blindfolded all the time."
"How did he behave?"
"...He kissed my cheek before leaving", Chiyu says, and is certain this small thing tells much more than going into detail about the knife, the wound, the tease, the ordering tone.
Fuck me.
He shakes his head and closes his eyes to gently rub the lids.
"Are you okay?" Masato asks softly.
"Yeah. No. I don't know. I'm really confused. I think he wanted me to think about how he'd been treated... but... by whom or when or how, exactly, I don't really know. I don't even know if it matters. Hazuki told me I could just accept not knowing everything."
Masato sighs and falls silent as he thinks. "Do you want to meet up?"
"I'm a wreck. I'm not sure if I'm very good company."
"That's okay. I'm not too far away from where you live, actually..."
***
Knowing Roppongi hills and the bars and restaurants Chiyu has taken the time to dress up instead of dressing down; although he's kept the jeans he's switched the shirt and shoes, dumped the jacket completely, and even looked for a few necklaces and rings he hasn't worn for the past week. He still feels like a mess, but hopes that looking stylish will help him to avoid odd looks.
Masato is waiting for him outside the bar-restaurant, smoking, wearing some expensive brandwear which Chiyu can't name to save his life. They hardly exchange words while both finish a cigarette and then move inside. The interior is just as expensive as the menu probably is. A few businessmen and a band of hosts are scattered around the restaurant, some eating, most just drinking. Masato rises his hand and orders some oddly named cocktail; Chiyu goes for a beer, afraid for his wallet.
"Are you okay?" Masato asks as the waitress brings their drinks. Chiyu takes a small sip of the beer, sighs, and leans back on the cushions. They're sitting at a log glass table on leather sofas with sharp shapes. Chiyu figures this forms a lounge of some sort, while the taller tables and chairs belong to the restaurant area.
"I guess. As fine as I can be, I guess, when considering the situation."
Masato nods and fishes the olive from the drink, eating it thoughtfully. "How was your day, besides that?"
"It was ok..." Chiyu sighs. "I met Shinpei in the morning to ask him some things."
"And?"
"He admitted he knows Takeru. But... Either Takeru has changed a lot since then, or then..." He doesn't voice it - he doesn't want to believe Shinpei would lie to him.
"Were they close?"
"Well, according to him, not really. He said they got along, went to the same school, and that they'd occasionally hang out, play basketball..." He sips the beer again. "And then, apparently Takeru assumed they were dating, and Shinpei told him they weren't, and they didn't meet again."
He turns to look at Masato. "You've known Takeru for longer than I have."
"True", Masato nods. "Although I don't know about Shinpei and him."
"But would Takeru have done that? Thought something like that and then gotten so hurt he'd hate Shinpei, now?"
"I'm not sure." Throwing a leg over the other Masato looks somewhere up towards the ceiling with the drink in one hand, the other hand on his knee. He looks like a model posing for a photo. "I can imagine Takeru would have gotten hurt, but..."
"But?"
"I can't say whether it adds up or not." Turning to look at Chiyu, Masato has a worried look on his face. "Takeru hung out with a lot of bad people. He's got a reputation of sorts amongst certain groups, even. You know that."
"Yeah. I can't imagine him ever having gone to school."
Masato chuckles. "I've seen him in a school uniform, but only once, and he hadn't gone to school." A small smile remains on his lips for a while. "What I mean is, he might've really known Shinpei through school even though he probably went in very little. But even so, with him having hung out with all those people, I can't imagine how Shinpei would fit the picture. As far as I'm concerned, Takeru spent all day long in clubs or out doing something, err, odd, if you will."
Chiyu nods. "You're saying Shinpei would have to have to do with those people, too."
"...Yes. I don't want to upset you, but... That's what I think."
The Osakan shakes his head a bit. "It's okay. I get what you mean." He bites his lip. Masato takes a sip of the cocktail. "Why wouldn't Shinpei tell me, though?"
"Maybe he doesn't want to?" Masato tilts his head with a deep pondering look in his eyes. Tonight they're bright blue like sapphires. "Maybe he's embarrassed of it, or he's put it behind him, and doesn't want you to know."
"Although I'd be fine with it."
"You should let him know."
"Mm..." Chiyu sighs. "I don't want to believe he'd lie to me."
"Maybe", Masato says, "he's lying only because it concerns Takeru."
The brunette raises his brows. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, Shinpei and Takeru aren't close, anymore. A way or another, Takeru got hurt, and Shinpei is related to it. Maybe Shinpei isn't happy about you having brought Takeru up, to begin with, or upset about Takeru making his appearance, again."
"Do you think Shinpei knew I know Takeru?" Chiyu puts the beer down on the table.
"I'm not sure", Masato shakes his head. "I guess it's possible."
"Doesn't everybody know Takeru, these days", mumbles Chiyu.
"...Sort of, I guess."
They remain silent for a moment. Masato sips the drink slowly; Chiyu occasionally picks up the beer.
"If Shinpei knows about me and Takeru", Chiyu begins finally, but doesn't continue for a while as he collects his thoughts. "If he knows, and he doesn't like Takeru, why wouldn't he tell me not to talk about him."
"Maybe he simply didn't want to hurt your feelings."
"Maybe. I hope so."
You're just a pawn, the memory of the notes left for him said. You're nothing more to him than game.
Prey. Petty, meaningless prey sacrificed for the king.
***
He walks Masato outside to a crossroads and waits for the boy's ride. The slick black car glides along the street and comes to a halt where they're standing; the neatly dressed driver steps out to hold the boy the door. Chiyu is always as amazed by this. He doesn't know Masato's parents, but wouldn't be surprised if they turned out to be members of some part of the government or related to the Emperor himself.
"I'm sorry I can't help you more", Masato says with a sigh.
"It's okay... I'll be fine." Chiyu attempts a smile, and mock-salutes with one hand. Masato chuckles.
"If there's anything you want to talk about, don't hesitate to call me."
"Yeah. Have a safe trip home."
"Thank you."
Masato slips onto the back seat and the driver closes the door. He bows a bit to Chiyu, who does the same, and then goes to the driver's seat. The car disappears from sight, and Chiyu starts walking towards home.
In the car, Masato rests his eyes on the passing scenery of the tall apartment buildings and the beautiful night embracing the world. The hum of the road is barely audible.
"Sir", the driver speaks up from the front seat, and Masato nods a little. "You seem most concerned."
"I am", the young man breathes out. "I think Chiyu is a good person. What he's going through is wrong."
"And you feel troubled for not being able to help a friend?"
"Yes." He smiles a little, turns to look at the rear mirror via which he can see a part of the driver's face. "And Takeru is important to me, too..."
"How is the young sir?"
"You don't have to be so polite." Masato chuckles. "Takeru... Takeru is... he isn't okay, either. I'm worried about him. But he won't let me help."
"May I give a small word of advice?"
"Please", Masato sighs.
"You must use your persistent side. Eventually, I am sure they both will listen. Sir, you are a very kind person, but you must not let people use you." The driver's eyes visit the mirror and meet Masato's gaze. "Be persistent. Like you are to your mother."
Masato laughs, and the driver smiles. "Thank you. I'll keep that in mind."
"On the subject of the ma'am", the driver continues, "she was invited to a banquet by one of her American acquaintances, and I took her to the airport an hour ago."
"When will she be back?"
"On Monday evening."
"And dad?"
"Master is at home, but working." The eyes visit Masato, again. "As usual."
"Mm..." Masato nods a little, looks outside.
"Master expressed some worry about your coming and going earlier. He asked me to look after you properly."
"Do you think dad would mind if I asked Takeru to come over? It's been a while..."
"I am most certain master would not mind. After all, even during his work, he wishes for your best, and the ma'am wishes for your happiness."
"Tell me", the boy says as they turn to the yard, "do you remember Shinpei? Chiyu's friend?"
"I believe I drove mr Igarashi and his friend from Shibuya to Roppongi, once."
"Yes. How did he seem like, to you?"
The driver parks the car in front of the fine house, turns off the engine, and thinks. "Like all your young friends he seemed surprised. What exactly do you mean, sir?"
"I mean... You're good at reading people."
"It comes as a part of my occupation. But thank you very much."
"So what kind of an image did you have of him?"
"Of course, this is just my personal opinion and I do not mean to affect yours, sir", the driver says, and looks over his shoulder at Masato, who nods patiently, "but this young sir seemed like a very good liar."
Masato thinks for a second, then smiles softly. "Well", he says, "I'd still like to believe I can do better than him."
The driver steps out and comes to open the door for him. "Master is a very good teacher, after all. Good night, sir."
hypnophobia hyp·no·pho·bi·a 【ˈhɪpnoˈfəʊbiə】(n) An abnormal fear of falling asleep.