Eyes Like Honey - A Sakurai Sho Fanfic (1/?)
Pairing: Sakurai Sho x Fictional Female (Reader) *see note below
Rating: R/NC-17 for whole series, PG-13 for Ch.1 (language)
Beta: kyraensui, lianne29? (Thank you, babes!)
Genre: Romance, Drama
Word count: 1,615
Plot: A 33-year-old singleton, Nijishima Kokoro, finds herself at a host club where she meets the club's most popular host, Sakurai Sho. The encounter propels Kokoro to explore a different kind of love as Sho helps Kokoro discover herself.
NOTE: This story reads like a shoujo manga--it is written in a fictitious first-person narrative where the reader is the protagonist. Please proceed with caution if you are uncomfortable with JE members having relationships with fictitious female characters.
Chapter One: The Drink
It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
As a teenager, I dreamt of becoming a flight attendant.
As a 20-something, I hoped to make a difference in the world.
By 30, I thought I would be happily married.
And yet, at age 33, here I was, at a male host club with two of my closest girl friends.
Sure, I had a decent career as a hair stylist, but it was starting to feel like a chore rather than a passionate lover I couldn’t wait to discover. Still, it was the only constant in my life and, with how the other aspects of my life were going, my career was just about the only thing worth my time.
“First time, I assume. May I pour you something?”
Golden bangs glowed in the warm, orange lighting, falling over his eyelashes like a curtain begging to be opened to let the gentle breeze in. Inquisitive eyes, fully aware of the hesitation in mine, seemed to scan my whole body for clues. In response, my restless fingers looked for a place to hide, my feet shifted around under the table, and my mind was working overtime trying to focus on something, anything. Anything but this current situation.
“I’m 33.”
Fuuuuuck..! How did I let Reiko and Juri talk me into coming here?
As usual, my stupid mouth was running off as if it had nothing to lose.
Unfazed, he took the empty seat beside me, crossed his legs, and leaned against the back of the sofa.
“Hi, 33. I’m 34.”
Perched beautifully on his face was a gentle smile, eyes full of earnest curiosity. I let out a soft chuckle, and with it, a sigh that relieved tension from my hands. On my palms were nail marks buzzing shyly in the face of a stranger.
“Thanks, I needed that.”
“I know,” he responded as he readied a glass. “And this, too.”
A punch of cognac tickled my nostrils as the citrus scents fluttered about.
“Oh, I’m good with a gin and tonic. Cognac is not my thing.”
Did he not hear me?
34 continued to busy his hands, uninterrupted by my preference.
In a dainty cocktail glass danced a myriad of aromas, the topaz-colored elixir camouflaging in and out of the orange lighting of the room and the amber of the table.
“I hope it’s to your liking.”
“I really am not a fan of cognac,” I restated more clearly.
“How do you know that if you’ve never tried it?”
I swallow my words. How did he know I’ve never tried cognac?
--
On a relatively cold day in May-May 4th, to be exact-I was left to make a choice. A life-changing decision. For three years, I loved one man, a man I thought I would marry. We had found a place in Nishi-Azabu together. We had discussed what color curtains to order, what song to play at our wedding, what kind of life we would lead together.
Then, one day-May 4th, to be exact-he asked me to meet him at a bar, the corner bar where we once laughed about the time he fell off the boat during our first date at the park, the same bar where we had spent hours talking about everything and nothing at the same time.
“I love someone else.”
So this is what suffocation feels like.
My eyes felt drier than usual. The rain stammered on the roof and like white noise, it fuzzed and buzzed in my ears. My mind worked overtime trying to focus on something, anything. Anything but this current situation.
I wanted so much to continue loving him.
Anything I would have given for him to love me again.
To forget that other girl and look only at me.
Those dark brown eyes weren’t supposed to wander away.
And yet.
“Did you know I got promoted to Assistant Manager?”
It was a self-defense mechanism. As the room spun around me, it was all I could do, to hold onto the one thing I knew wouldn’t run from me. At least my work life stayed intact.
“Could I buy you one last drink?” he apologetically mumbled. “To celebrate your promotion?”
Why does he get to look hurt? Who is the heartbroken here?
I couldn’t bring myself to ask.
“A gin and tonic for her, please. And a Cognac Summit for me.”
A punch of cognac tickled my nostrils as the citrus scents fluttered about.
Ah. This is why I don’t like cognac. It smells of him.
--
“How did you know I’ve never tried cognac?”
“I didn’t,” he said matter-of-factly. “But I’m a pretty good guesser.”
I’m a rational person, I told myself.
Everything I’ve learned about the world, I learned with my head.
I could have said no.
And yet.
The flavors enraptured my body as the orange liqueur enveloped my tongue. Cognac exhaled through my nostrils in delight, lemon juice still tickling my lips.
“Mmmmm…” It was all I could say.
“That’s a Sidecar, Miss 33.” His eyes seemed to say, “I’m glad you like it.”
Without warning, a tear streamed down my right cheek as searing pain showed its battered head from somewhere underneath my busy career I used as an excuse to cover up the wounds I pretended no longer existed.
“Here.” It was a gingham handkerchief. His eyes, although inquisitive all night, were downcast. They inquired nothing further, and simply waited patiently until I was ready.
“I’ve never enjoyed cognac.” I paused. “But your Sidecar released a painful memory from a wound I thought had already healed.” In fact, it brought a sort of closure I thought I would never get, and the release was intoxicating, addictive, even.
My lips hungered for another sip of the very liquor I thought I hated. The drink in my hand lusted after me and I let it be my lover for the moment.
“A lie will always find a way out,” he assured. His bangs once again covered a part of his eyes.
As I let those words hang in the air, Juri’s hand grabbed my wrist.
“She drank too much again,” she said, as she tipped her head toward Reiko. Here we go again, I thought. Out of us three, she was the only married woman, though it may come as a surprise to many, considering the lifestyle she chooses to lead.
--
“I’m legally married,” she had said a few years back. “But I’m emotionally single.”
“That doesn’t even make sense, Reiko,” Juri replied, annoyed. “Don’t people get married because they want to spend the rest of their lives with that one person? If you don’t even love your husband, why did you get married in the first place?”
“To be honest, I don’t know. I thought I loved him.”
“At least you’re married! I can’t even find a decent guy, let alone a one night stand!” Juri exclaimed.
“Reiko, you’re not spending enough time nurturing the relationship. If you don’t make it a priority, it’s going to fall apart,” I said, concerned.
There I go, patronizing her like I have my shit together.
Who’s laughing now?
--
“Hold on,” I told Juri.
No.
I can’t leave here without thanking him.
The warm hues in my cocktail glass seemed to whisper to me a secret. My senses, tantalized by its mystery, accepted defeat as my lips parted to let it take control.
“You’re welcome,” he said, as I finished the last drop.
“…”
For the first time in a long while, I felt completely vulnerable. I felt him find his way into a part of my past I had tried to forget. Strong, lightly tanned fingers reached for my now empty glass as his head gave a humble bow. With a single cocktail, he had figured me out like no other man had. And yet, I hardly knew a thing about him.
“Wait… you have a name, don’t you?” I manage to ask.
“Hey! Are you done, Kokoro? I can’t carry her by myself!” Reiko hung over on Juri’s shoulder like heavy tapestry.
“S-Sorry,” I stammered, and got up to help.
A couple sighs later, Juri and I made our way to the exit, Reiko dragging behind, blowing kisses back at her favorite host.
“They think I’m drunk! I’ll be back, Toma!” she shouted into my ear.
I never got his name…
“Oh, god! I need to pay!” Flustered, I fumbled around my purse for my wallet.
“The Sidecar is on me, Miss Kokoro.” My fingers stop moving at the sound of my name as the same inquisitive eyes meet with my hesitant pair. My face burns with heat, and I wonder whether that cognac was catching up with me.
“Pray you’ll come by again,” he bowed. “If not for my company, then for another drink.”
--
The soft, morning light tickled my face. I peek at the alarm clock. 9:20am. Thank god it’s Sunday, I sigh. After a long stretch and a couple of wrestling moves with the covers, I suddenly recall the events from the night before.
“A lie will always find a way out.”
His words still hung like a word bubble clouding my judgment.
“34…” I mumbled, half asleep. There was something about him. I couldn’t get him off my mind. Mysterious, intuitive, and addictive, he was just like the drink he had made me.
Without thinking, I licked my lips as the morning air filled my lungs. I thirsted for the magic, that cathartic potion glowing invitingly in that dim light. Imitations and gimmicks would no longer do.
I have to see him again.
Only he can satiate the desire within.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
Rating: R/NC-17 for whole series, PG-13 for Ch.1 (language)
Beta: kyraensui, lianne29? (Thank you, babes!)
Genre: Romance, Drama
Word count: 1,615
Plot: A 33-year-old singleton, Nijishima Kokoro, finds herself at a host club where she meets the club's most popular host, Sakurai Sho. The encounter propels Kokoro to explore a different kind of love as Sho helps Kokoro discover herself.
NOTE: This story reads like a shoujo manga--it is written in a fictitious first-person narrative where the reader is the protagonist. Please proceed with caution if you are uncomfortable with JE members having relationships with fictitious female characters.
Chapter One: The Drink
It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
As a teenager, I dreamt of becoming a flight attendant.
As a 20-something, I hoped to make a difference in the world.
By 30, I thought I would be happily married.
And yet, at age 33, here I was, at a male host club with two of my closest girl friends.
Sure, I had a decent career as a hair stylist, but it was starting to feel like a chore rather than a passionate lover I couldn’t wait to discover. Still, it was the only constant in my life and, with how the other aspects of my life were going, my career was just about the only thing worth my time.
“First time, I assume. May I pour you something?”
Golden bangs glowed in the warm, orange lighting, falling over his eyelashes like a curtain begging to be opened to let the gentle breeze in. Inquisitive eyes, fully aware of the hesitation in mine, seemed to scan my whole body for clues. In response, my restless fingers looked for a place to hide, my feet shifted around under the table, and my mind was working overtime trying to focus on something, anything. Anything but this current situation.
“I’m 33.”
Fuuuuuck..! How did I let Reiko and Juri talk me into coming here?
As usual, my stupid mouth was running off as if it had nothing to lose.
Unfazed, he took the empty seat beside me, crossed his legs, and leaned against the back of the sofa.
“Hi, 33. I’m 34.”
Perched beautifully on his face was a gentle smile, eyes full of earnest curiosity. I let out a soft chuckle, and with it, a sigh that relieved tension from my hands. On my palms were nail marks buzzing shyly in the face of a stranger.
“Thanks, I needed that.”
“I know,” he responded as he readied a glass. “And this, too.”
A punch of cognac tickled my nostrils as the citrus scents fluttered about.
“Oh, I’m good with a gin and tonic. Cognac is not my thing.”
Did he not hear me?
34 continued to busy his hands, uninterrupted by my preference.
In a dainty cocktail glass danced a myriad of aromas, the topaz-colored elixir camouflaging in and out of the orange lighting of the room and the amber of the table.
“I hope it’s to your liking.”
“I really am not a fan of cognac,” I restated more clearly.
“How do you know that if you’ve never tried it?”
I swallow my words. How did he know I’ve never tried cognac?
--
On a relatively cold day in May-May 4th, to be exact-I was left to make a choice. A life-changing decision. For three years, I loved one man, a man I thought I would marry. We had found a place in Nishi-Azabu together. We had discussed what color curtains to order, what song to play at our wedding, what kind of life we would lead together.
Then, one day-May 4th, to be exact-he asked me to meet him at a bar, the corner bar where we once laughed about the time he fell off the boat during our first date at the park, the same bar where we had spent hours talking about everything and nothing at the same time.
“I love someone else.”
So this is what suffocation feels like.
My eyes felt drier than usual. The rain stammered on the roof and like white noise, it fuzzed and buzzed in my ears. My mind worked overtime trying to focus on something, anything. Anything but this current situation.
I wanted so much to continue loving him.
Anything I would have given for him to love me again.
To forget that other girl and look only at me.
Those dark brown eyes weren’t supposed to wander away.
And yet.
“Did you know I got promoted to Assistant Manager?”
It was a self-defense mechanism. As the room spun around me, it was all I could do, to hold onto the one thing I knew wouldn’t run from me. At least my work life stayed intact.
“Could I buy you one last drink?” he apologetically mumbled. “To celebrate your promotion?”
Why does he get to look hurt? Who is the heartbroken here?
I couldn’t bring myself to ask.
“A gin and tonic for her, please. And a Cognac Summit for me.”
A punch of cognac tickled my nostrils as the citrus scents fluttered about.
Ah. This is why I don’t like cognac. It smells of him.
--
“How did you know I’ve never tried cognac?”
“I didn’t,” he said matter-of-factly. “But I’m a pretty good guesser.”
I’m a rational person, I told myself.
Everything I’ve learned about the world, I learned with my head.
I could have said no.
And yet.
The flavors enraptured my body as the orange liqueur enveloped my tongue. Cognac exhaled through my nostrils in delight, lemon juice still tickling my lips.
“Mmmmm…” It was all I could say.
“That’s a Sidecar, Miss 33.” His eyes seemed to say, “I’m glad you like it.”
Without warning, a tear streamed down my right cheek as searing pain showed its battered head from somewhere underneath my busy career I used as an excuse to cover up the wounds I pretended no longer existed.
“Here.” It was a gingham handkerchief. His eyes, although inquisitive all night, were downcast. They inquired nothing further, and simply waited patiently until I was ready.
“I’ve never enjoyed cognac.” I paused. “But your Sidecar released a painful memory from a wound I thought had already healed.” In fact, it brought a sort of closure I thought I would never get, and the release was intoxicating, addictive, even.
My lips hungered for another sip of the very liquor I thought I hated. The drink in my hand lusted after me and I let it be my lover for the moment.
“A lie will always find a way out,” he assured. His bangs once again covered a part of his eyes.
As I let those words hang in the air, Juri’s hand grabbed my wrist.
“She drank too much again,” she said, as she tipped her head toward Reiko. Here we go again, I thought. Out of us three, she was the only married woman, though it may come as a surprise to many, considering the lifestyle she chooses to lead.
--
“I’m legally married,” she had said a few years back. “But I’m emotionally single.”
“That doesn’t even make sense, Reiko,” Juri replied, annoyed. “Don’t people get married because they want to spend the rest of their lives with that one person? If you don’t even love your husband, why did you get married in the first place?”
“To be honest, I don’t know. I thought I loved him.”
“At least you’re married! I can’t even find a decent guy, let alone a one night stand!” Juri exclaimed.
“Reiko, you’re not spending enough time nurturing the relationship. If you don’t make it a priority, it’s going to fall apart,” I said, concerned.
There I go, patronizing her like I have my shit together.
Who’s laughing now?
--
“Hold on,” I told Juri.
No.
I can’t leave here without thanking him.
The warm hues in my cocktail glass seemed to whisper to me a secret. My senses, tantalized by its mystery, accepted defeat as my lips parted to let it take control.
“You’re welcome,” he said, as I finished the last drop.
“…”
For the first time in a long while, I felt completely vulnerable. I felt him find his way into a part of my past I had tried to forget. Strong, lightly tanned fingers reached for my now empty glass as his head gave a humble bow. With a single cocktail, he had figured me out like no other man had. And yet, I hardly knew a thing about him.
“Wait… you have a name, don’t you?” I manage to ask.
“Hey! Are you done, Kokoro? I can’t carry her by myself!” Reiko hung over on Juri’s shoulder like heavy tapestry.
“S-Sorry,” I stammered, and got up to help.
A couple sighs later, Juri and I made our way to the exit, Reiko dragging behind, blowing kisses back at her favorite host.
“They think I’m drunk! I’ll be back, Toma!” she shouted into my ear.
I never got his name…
“Oh, god! I need to pay!” Flustered, I fumbled around my purse for my wallet.
“The Sidecar is on me, Miss Kokoro.” My fingers stop moving at the sound of my name as the same inquisitive eyes meet with my hesitant pair. My face burns with heat, and I wonder whether that cognac was catching up with me.
“Pray you’ll come by again,” he bowed. “If not for my company, then for another drink.”
--
The soft, morning light tickled my face. I peek at the alarm clock. 9:20am. Thank god it’s Sunday, I sigh. After a long stretch and a couple of wrestling moves with the covers, I suddenly recall the events from the night before.
“A lie will always find a way out.”
His words still hung like a word bubble clouding my judgment.
“34…” I mumbled, half asleep. There was something about him. I couldn’t get him off my mind. Mysterious, intuitive, and addictive, he was just like the drink he had made me.
Without thinking, I licked my lips as the morning air filled my lungs. I thirsted for the magic, that cathartic potion glowing invitingly in that dim light. Imitations and gimmicks would no longer do.
I have to see him again.
Only he can satiate the desire within.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this.