[Uraboku] Bruises and Bitemarks (2/?)
Title: Bruises and Bitemarks
Author: masanami
Character(s): Hotsuma/Shusei, mentions of Senshirou/Kuroto, Takashiro, Tachibana, and others
Word Count: 9,050
Rating: R
Warnings: Host AU. Suggestive material.
Summary: Shusei's the perfect host and Hotsuma's the perfect person to ruin everything for him.
It’s still light out when Shusei’s eyes open.
The blankets curled around his body feel heavy and warm, almost smothering him as he stared up at the ceiling and the lines of shadows that played on the walls. It’s not quite sunset-he could tell from the darker hues of light that shone in from the cracks in the curtains-but it’s beginning to get later in the day. The change that the night brings as it envelopes the city in darkness is something he’s more than familiar with. It’s a change he can almost taste on his lips, a heaviness he can feel in his bones.
He’s accustomed himself to the night. It was a unavoidable thing really, one left mandatory by his profession, a necessary prerequisite for employment. There’s a certain harshness the night brings, a sense that leaves him quietly grasping for the equilibrium that the day anchors, when it ushers away all the hazy imbalance clustered in nighttime clubs and street side dealings.
Brushing a hand across his brow, Shusei sighed. The faint memories of the previous night are still nestled within the depths of his mind, just on the cusp of his thoughts and consciousness. He doesn’t like it, remembering them the next morning. There are days when he’s drunken himself into such an oblivion-unable to turn away the drinks that he’s offered in the bar because that also is a necessity of his profession-where he can no longer recall the people he’s seen or the words he’s said. There’s a quiet unsettling unease about that, but also a feeling that’s drenched in comfort. There are nights where he’d rather forget than remember-mistakes he selfishly wants to disown. Even though he’s trying he can’t seem to forget the fact that there’s-
There’s a man with blonde hair in his memories.
He has a set of eyes that match his own, but their depth is almost amber instead of a deep gold-reminding him of the swirling center of a flame, one whose center teeters on the edge of bursting. His hair was almost as unruly and untamed as the gaze locked behind those eyes, all bleached strands and ends left to tangle amongst themselves. Ears covered in piercings, clothes that speak of just not caring-all things that told Shusei with a single glance that he’s trouble.
That night Shusei didn’t see Hotsuma enter the bar or maybe he wouldn’t have let himself be swayed by Tachibana’s words. Just one look would have told him that this was a person he needed to be careful around.
I’m not interested, Tachibana.
Just entertain him for a bit. He’s bought the most expensive drink on the menu, we can’t just turn him away.
He knew better, he should have never of allowed Tachibana to talk him into accepting another client-for accepting a male client-when he was already juggling more than he could handle. Each new person that demanded his attention was another moment when he had to switch personas, become someone they wanted and needed when they chose to walk through the front doors of the bar.
Shusei turned away from the shadows playing on his ceiling and laid on his side, clutching the softness of his pillow between his arms. He had finally conceded to Tachibana’s request only after thinking it would be simple enough to get rid of the man-after all, men weren’t that different from women and if being too forward was enough to scare off a woman than certainly it would work for a man-but this man didn’t act like he expected. When he brushed himself against Hotsuma’s body he could almost feel the tingle of excitement run through the other man, feel the hungry need held back within those lustful eyes-he should have known better, he should have known the moment he saw that look lurking within the depths of those golden eyes that his plan would never work.
That kiss never should have happened.
He never should have shared those words, never should have spoken things he would have so effortlessly of told other women-this man, this Hotsuma was someone to be weary of. It may not be fully noticeable, may not even be something that was fully comprehendible, but he could feel it within the depths of his chest. There was something about Hotsuma that screamed of breaking. There was something in the feel of his forceful hands pushing his lips into a deeper kiss that caused a shudder to ripple down Shusei’s spine and haunt his memories. He had lost himself far too easily in that kiss.
Shusei pushed aside the covers from his bed and swung his legs off to sit on the edge. His feet felt cold against the solid, untouched ground.
He could still feel the bruises on his lips.
He let himself get carried away. He let someone push him into a corner, garner a type kind of control that no one should have. That was exactly why Hotsuma Renjou was dangerous. He had underestimated a situation that he had been sure he understood, let himself be swept away by those burning eyes and the feel of those strong arms running through his hair, the soft feel of lips pressed against-
Sighing, Shusei finally stood and looked around the dim apartment. There was little inside it’s small walls-nothing personal, just the things he would need every night-the clothes, the accessories. Only a few books piled on top of each other near the light stand held any real personal value and even those could be purchased at any bookstore for a small price. He walked over to the single mirror next to the dresser that housed the majority of his possessions and stared into it.
His hair was in disarray, brown strands tossed and flayed around his face from a restless sleep. His eyes held a heaviness that was visible in the slight darkening and puffiness underneath his eyes.
He looked…so tired.
Had it really bothered him so much as to deprive him of what little sleep he was able to get? Some people thought that he was cold and detached as a person, but he had always known how to show just enough warmth, how to slip on a face or expression perfect for any situation-it was the thing that made him so successful as a host. But now he felt like that mask had been brutally ripped away, stripped from him by an unexpected encounter. He didn’t like it, not feeling like he was in control…
It-it made him feel like he didn’t even know who he was anymore.
He’d gotten so good at masking his emotions, at playing the perfect host and companion that sometimes he didn’t even know who the real Shusei was anymore. He just became whoever they wanted, whatever they needed and nothing more. Nothing made him earnestly feel his own emotions anymore.
Not until-it wasn’t like it mattered anyway. He didn’t live for anything. His existence didn’t really matter in a world where he molded himself to fit the needs of others. He’d given up on the rest long ago and now he was just…tired.
Tired of living in this world that no longer meant anything to him.
+ + + +
The streets were illuminated in neon lights by the time Shusei left his apartment.
The subway station near his apartment wasn’t crowded but it’s busy enough that he stood in front of the double glass doors and stared at his reflection while the train swayed back and forth. He could feel the press of people around him even if they didn’t touch him-the heat of their breath was enough to tell him they were there. He focused his eyes on the glass windows in front of him, staring through the reflection at the other people that sat sequestered in tiny seats.
He felt their stares on him, the way they just knew what he was and what he did without asking. It’s something he’s learned ignore a long time ago, a thought that barely graces the back of his mind. He’s gotten used to it, to this lifestyle and the late hours-to going to work when the sun begins to set and not leaving until it’s bright in the sky again. He’s accustomed himself to the looks that greet him in the subway and sidewalks, the long glances over the shoulder or the way eyes flicker away from meeting his own.
No one wants to meet the gaze of a host-of a beautiful man whose job is to lure a person in with a single smile meant to snatch both money and affection.
But it’s not as if there is any truth to those words in the first place. The only truth lies in this city and this district that houses those looking for something. They come to bars and clubs, to strip joints and prostitution places-they buy sex and company and conversation because there’s something missing in their lives. It has nothing to do with the whispered words he promises, but everything to do with the people that seek him out.
They’re all the same as him. They’re missing something-they just choose a different way to find or live without it.
When Shusei finally left Shinjuku station the sun hadn’t quite set on the horizon. The busy sidewalks of Tokyo greeted Shusei as the city stared at him, painted in hues of purple and pink. The nightlife of Shinjuku began early and before darkness can fully sweep across the city the neon lights are already beginning to flash. Around him he could hear the sounds of clicking heels and idle chit-chat, feel the weight of glances toward him as he crossed the street. Most of the people he saw he's familiar with-they're beautiful women with make up painting their faces and hair crunched and weaved into molded perfection. There are men too; dressed impeccably in suits, spiked hair, and the latest fashion. He's among them even though he doesn’t count them as people he knows. They are men and women that sell themselves for money, for the promise of a different life, for a sense of belonging. He wouldn’t even call these people acquaintances even if they share a similar profession. They are the same people that claimed this lifestyle was merely a temporary stepping stone to something bigger no matter how many months and years passed. Their lives and stories-their own personal tragedies didn’t interest him. He had no sympathy for those that could not learn to move forward-regardless of whether they had to walk or crawl-or simply make peace with the fate that they had chosen for themselves.
Their presence alone made the city feel hot and heavy as he made his way to the bar.
Kabuchiko is different from the rest of Shinjuku and by the time he gets there it isn’t quite brimming with life but it’s beginning to get that way. There is a quiet hum that runs through the district, so distinctly tailored to this place, that Shusei is sure he’s never heard or felt it anywhere else. It’s not necessarily a clean hum, but something more dirty and rough. For all the attempts to glamour the sidewalks and faces, there is still the underline grunge that never escapes Shusei’s sight.
When he rounded the corner that would take him to the main street where New World is located he can see that filth in front of his eyes-all tight leather, studs, and bleached hair straightened in upward spikes. It’s a set of four eyes that look so similar that Shusei can’t tell one from the other, save for the slight difference in dyed hair, a single line that sprouts from the forehead on different sides. He knows these two twins, they like to go by the name Jekyll and Hyde.
“Ahah, if it isn’t Mr. Number-One-Host himself.” Shusei isn’t sure which one is talking, Jekyll or Hyde, because their voices sound the same from where they are leaning against the wall near the entranceway to the bar. Their booted feet are caked in mud and it’s ruining the clean walls where they’ve made themselves welcome. Shusei can’t help but notice the streaks of dirt that have been smeared on the normally spotless walls. Their filth is contagious and it’s caking the walls of a familiar place.
Shusei doesn’t bother to answer them, just continues to walk and maybe wonder in the back of his mind how two people can walk through the streets of Tokyo in this heat in all that leather and not smell like rotting carcasses. Maybe it’s just because they’ve decided to pretty themselves up, cover up their stench just like this red light district tries to hide all the scandals and dirt within it’s walls plastered in neon lights and posters.
“You don’t want to talk to us?” Shusei’s pretty sure this is a different one speaking this time, but he doesn’t bother taking the time to look up and check the hair and maybe tell the difference. It’s only when one of them blocks his path, the only narrow entrance into the bar, that he finally stops walking and forces himself to look up.
There’s a grin on his face-this one is Hyde, he’s pretty sure-and the makeup that dots the corner of his eyes is seared from where he’s probably been rubbing sweat off his face, making the pale skin that covers his body look more clammy and death-like than usual. He licked his lips, slowly drawing his long tongue over the ridge of darkened, lipstick stained bumps, as he looked Shusei up and down. He looked like a predator trying to size up a prey just before the attack.
“Ahh-you’re lucky Reiga-sama told us to wait out here and behave. I wouldn’t mind tossing you around a bit-get rid of some of that pretty that makes you so popular.”
“I’m sure Takashiro would love that.” It’s the other one, Jekyll, whose moved to stand behind Shusei, whispering words that are close enough to his ears that he can feel the heat of Jekyll’s breath tingling his neck. “…to see his precious host all bloody and bruised and beaten.”
Then there was laughter surrounding him, high and mocking, the cadence of their voices like a shrill scream. “Hahaha but thenagain we also heard Takashiro is the type of person who’d use his own little brother to sell a little more liquor to the pretty ladies. I heard he was even prettier than you.”
Hyde wedged a long finger under Shusei's chin, stroking the corner of his jawline with his too long fingernails. “I still think you’d look nice pinned against-“
Shusei smacked away Hyde’s hand with enough force to jerk his entire arm away. “Don’t touch me,” he bit out and shoved his way past the other man. The shove was hard enough for Hyde to trip toward the wall and force him to reach out his hands to brace himself from slamming head-first into it. Shusei could hear the grumble of anger swirling behind him as he moved toward the front door and narrowed his golden eyes to look over his shoulder as Jekyll tried to hold Hyde back-a clenched fist already midway through the air, a snarl on bared teeth.
"You better watch your back, host." Hyde spit out.
Shusei just looked at him, words on the tip of his tongue, but decided it wasn’t worth the effort to speak to them. He just turned and let the other twin try to talk Hyde down as he stepped into the bar. He already had a bad taste in his mouth and spitting out angry words wasn’t going to make him feel any better. Trying to converse with trash never held much appeal to him anyway.
He didn’t hear the sound of Hyde of following him, just the echo of his hollow threat once he’s inside the club. He’s there early but the music is already playing through the empty interior. It's a soft melody in the background, one that will just permeate through the garbled noise of conversation once the building is packed to the brim with bodies sitting shoulder to shoulder-but right now it's empty and the music is louder than he's used to hearing and he finds the faint melody relaxing. He supposes that's the purpose after all-because why else come to a bar of this caliber if not to find the soothing relaxation that comes with it's manufactured design?
The building itself is bigger than most of the other clubs. Despite the need for space to fill with couches and thus potential customers, the New World bar is more aesthetic in decor. There are couches and plush chairs hugging the walls, but there is also a wall of bamboo and a small stone water fountain that runs across the back of the main bar. Even over the music Shusei can hear the light babble coming from the rushing water and he knows without a doubt that it adds to the soothing and tranquil spirit that has been carefully manufactured into the design of the building.
Shusei moved toward the back hallway where the staff room was located when a flash of movement caught his attention.
His eyes hadn’t quite adjusted to the darkness of the bar, but he could see the motion of a moving body and the voice attached to it is familiar enough for his breath to hitch in his chest and his jaw to clench. He heard the voice before he could see clearly the body attached to it. “I apologize for their…lack of behavior.” An almost amused sigh from a voice Shusei immediately recognized. “They really have no manners.”
“You should keep them on a shorter leash then.”
Reiga Giou stepped into Shusei’s focus with an amused smirk pulling at the straight-lipped expression that he wore. “That would be easier, wouldn’t it?” Black hair brushing along the sides of his face, Reiga looked at Shusei, nose wrinkling in some form of disgust that he didn’t bother to mask behind a set of intense gray eyes. Reiga, for all his dealings with hosts and bars and clubs, always thought less of everyone except-
Shusei’s golden eyes looked beyond Reiga and down the hallway, expecting to find another person there-knowing there was another person here, one that garnered enough affection or provoked enough to warrant Reiga’s attention.
But there was no one else around.
“Hm.” The sound ringing off Reiga’s lips was enough to pull Shusei back into focus, to step aside when the man began to shoulder his way past him. “But I’m afraid no leash is short enough when a wild dog is provoked. You’d do well to remember that as well, Shusei-kun.”
Reiga’s threat hung in the air even after Shusei heard the door to the bar close and the muffled conversation outside.
Shusei glanced over his shoulder and at the closed door for a moment longer before he turned away, trying to stop his fingers from clenching into a fist as he stepped into the staff room. It's still early enough that no one else has come in yet so Shusei found the room to himself. The room itself was small with a mirror that stretched the entire length of one wall. Shusei didn’t bother to glance into it as he tossed his suit jacket on the back of one of the chairs and decides that for tonight he’s going to abandon it-it’s far too humid for the extra layers. He’s had enough close encounters with extra heat in the last few minutes to last him the night. Reiga Giou always left him feeling unsettled and uneasy.
He adjusted the vest that’s slung snuggly around his chest and the crisp lines of his dress shirt underneath. The night had yet to begin but he already felt on the edge even if he knew there was still the assurance of whispered words, soft caresses, and hollowed promises. There were certain things he could always count on in this place, things that never changed.
Shusei closed his eyes.
Soon enough the other men would arrive and the tranquility of the silence of a bar that is normally throbbing with life and conversation will end. Sometimes Shusei prefers these moments, right before the storm, when it’s just him and the silence and the gentle music lulling him and preparing him for a long night.
When he was younger he used to play the piano and he could still remember how the gentle vibrations ringing from such a large instrument could sooth him-how it felt very much the same as it did now.
"Shusei."
He knew that voice. He didn’t need to turn around to know who was standing behind him, who probably had his eyes trained on his back and was watching the way his shoulder blades moved as he straightened the front of his shirt. Takashiro Giou is one of the few people that Shusei feels vulnerable around-as if he can see and feel right through him-as if he’s one of the women that just knows everything he says is a lie but still plays along, because she’s amused and wants to see how he will keep trying to string her along.
Because sometimes it’s a game they both play.
Finally, he turned and saw Takashiro standing there just as he anticipated-impeccably dressed in a charcoal gray designer suit, long hair pulled back in a ponytail that cascades down his shoulder, a long scar running across his cheek that is barely hidden by wisps of brownish-blonde hair that fall from the binding at the nape of his neck.
Takashiro is tall enough that Shusei has to train his gaze upward to meet his eyes-eyes that always seem to be calculating, always seem to watch him. He doesn’t say anything, not even as Takashiro steps into the room, and a clench grips him deep in his chest.
“You don’t look well, Shusei.” Takashiro took in the empty surroundings with a quick glance before his gaze finally settled on Shusei. He reached out a hand, brushing the backs of his fingertips along the sides of Shusei’s face. “Maybe you should take the night off. I can’t have my number one host getting ill on me.”
“I’m fine.” Shusei’s lips pursed in a straight line, hands resting at his sides. Takashiro’s fingers felt warm against his face.
“That so?” Takashiro chuckled, letting his fingers drop after brushing them through Shusei’s hair, causing a tingle to run down Shusei’s spine. “Tachibana tells me you had an interesting night yesterday. A male client, huh?”
“Male or female, a customer is a customer.”
“Ah, that’s my Shusei. Always the perfect host.” A playful smirk spread across Takashiro’s lips as he adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose. “Just be careful, Shusei. Got it?”
Shusei glanced away, looking into the mirror and his reflection. His own golden eyes stared back at him, tired but not so darkened around the edges after the cold shower he took before leaving to come here. He could even mask his exhaustion if he needed to. “It doesn’t mean anything, anyway.” He wondered if that was really true-or if one day all the lies would catch up and strangle him.
“That’s not what I meant.” Shusei felt Takashiro’s arm sling over his shoulders, pulling him against his side, squeezing him. “Don’t forget the nature of this profession.”
Shusei felt the corner of his lips twitch in irritation but he didn’t say anything, just nodded his head, once and curtly, even as he felt the rumble of Takashiro’s chest when he chuckled.
“Good, then make sure you continue to keep business good.” Finally, Takashiro released his shoulders and patted him on the back. “It’s sure to be a busy night.”
Shusei was glad when Takashiro didn’t say anymore, didn’t push the subject, or even go as far as to outright ban Hotsuma from coming back-not that Shusei thought he really might come back-because certainly Takashiro might not like the image projected by a male client in a bar meant for women even if he sounded amused a moment ago.
But perhaps the admission was simply because there were bigger things on Takashiro’s mind…such as Reiga’s presence now, of all times, when the popularity of New World among the host clubs in Kabuchiko was unparalleled. Even Shusei didn’t know how deeply the ties between those men laid.
In the distance Shusei could hear the growing sound of approaching voices and before Shusei could look toward the doorway, Takashiro was already leaving. “Do well tonight, Shusei.” He said before disappearing down the darkened hallway.
Shusei watched the space where Takashiro had gone until the voices he heard coming down the hallway grew louder and Kuroto finally walked into the room along side another man. This person was taller than Kuroto with almost honey colored eyes hidden behind a pair of thin-framed glasses. His hair was so light in color that it almost looked white when the light hit it just right-a tantalizing opposite with the way he walked next to Kuroto, the other man pressed against his side and an arm casually slung across his shoulder. Shusei instantly recognized Senshirou.
As soon as Kuroto noticed Shusei was in the room he knocked Senshirou’s arm off his shoulder with a shrug, a brief moment of surprise quickly slipping past his visage when he realized they weren’t alone anymore.
“Kuroto-“ The quick look of befuddlement that spread across Senshirou’s face dissipated when his eyes caught hold of Shusei’s gaze. “Ah, Shusei, it’s good to see you again.” His eyes squinted slightly behind his glasses as a gentle smile caressed his lips. “It’s been a while.”
Shusei merely nodded a greeting, watching as Senshirou turned to Kuroto and ran his fingers along the side of the other man’s face, causing a flush of red to creep into Kuroto’s cheeks. “You’re so cute Kuroto, but it’s only Shusei. There’s no need to act so distant.”
“Tch.” Kuroto grumbled as he stepped away from Senshirou’s side and thus the reach of his arms. He folded his arms across his chest, black hair sweeping before his slightly narrowed eyes. “Don’t say such things, people will get the wrong impression.”
Senshirou just laughed at Kuroto’s words, trying to place a hand on the shorter man’s shoulders though Kuroto made sure he was out of reach. “You’re never affectionate in front of others.” Kuroto ignored him, instead moving to the other side of the room and busying himself with getting ready for the night.
Shaking his head, Senshirou looked at Shusei. “You should come by the studio soon. I have those new prints ready for proofing from the last photo shoot and I thought you’d like to see them before Takashiro has a chance to use that tendency of his to flaunt your pictures all over Shinjuku again.”
“That was slightly irritating.”
“But it helped business didn’t it? Brought in some more clients for you, I’m sure.” Senshirou laughed. “Takashiro does have a way of doing things…the way he wants. I won’t ever forget that about him.”
“And I’m sure he’d love to see you here chatting instead of working on his prints.” Kuroto snapped from across the room. “You didn’t need to walk me here in the first place.”
“Ah, I think I’m being told to go home.” Senshirou smiled again, this time directed at Shusei. “It was nice seeing you again, Shusei. Come around sometime soon. I’ll treat you to lunch.”
Shusei watched as Senshirou stared at Kuroto’s turned back, a slight tilt coming to his head before he waved a goodbye to them both and left. The moment he was gone Kuroto turned around, jaw clenched in frustration. “Tch, that Senshirou never knows when to keep his mouth shut.” Kuroto said once Senshirou was out of earshot. Even though he sounded irritated his eyes still trained the spot where Senshirou had been moments ago, as if he thought it may have been his last time seeing him.
Shusei’s eyes fell on Kuroto-the way his shoulders shagged and he seemed to just let go, as if the energy that had been filling the air and space between him and Senshirou was one he knew as only fleeting.
Looking at that gaze in Kuroto’s eyes, in the chest fallen stare, Shusei was struck by the loneliness that seemed to befallen the other man. Somehow, without asking, but just knowing-Shusei just knew that no woman in this bar or these streets could ever hold a measure of Senshirou’s worth in Kuroto’s eyes.
It made Shusei wonder if he was even capable of such earnest feelings-because they felt so far out of Shusei's grasp, so completely unattainable because of his marred past and the things that had eventually brought him to this time and place.
Certainly there was nothing left in him to feel.
Nothing there but an empty void.
+ + + +
Shusei could feel the night in his bones. It manifested itself as aches and sores, and memories he wants to get rid of. When the night is finally over he’s just that much more tired even if he’s richer from his efforts. It’s so late by the time his final client leaves that all the other hosts have already left or are on their way out when he finally bids her farewell after calling a taxi and escorting her outside.
She’s all smiles as she slips into the dark interior of the cab, probably not even aware of how much she’s spent throughout the night to keep him by her side, but she’s still smiling all the same-even when Shusei shuts the door and lets out a long sigh of relief, glad she’s finally gone. He heads back inside of the bar, cognizant of how the sky is beginning to light up in hues of dark blue and just how long it’s been since he’s had a moment of quiet.
“Try to get some rest Shusei.”
It’s Tachibana’s voice that stops him after he grabs his things and heads for the front doors. Shusei looked toward the bar where Tachibana sat with a smug smile on his lips and yen piled around him as he took in the night’s earnings. He was leaning forward with his chin resting on the palm of his hands. He had taken a moment’s break from counting money-several bills still clutched loosely inbetween his fingers-whenever Shusei walked by him.
“The girls can always tell when a host is tired or distracted, even one as good as you.” Tachibana’s eyes squinted just a bit as his smile widened. “Though I don’t think guys can quite grasp that about one another.”
“I’ll be fine, Tachibana.” Shusei couldn’t hide the irritation in his voice, the way it coated over each syllable that passed between his lips. He didn’t need someone else pointing out to him that he was exhausted.
“Of course you will, Shu-kun. Never thought otherwise.”
Tachibana went back to counting and Shusei turned to leave. He sighed as he tucked his hands inside the pockets of his pants, shouldering open the door of the bar. It was only five o’clock in the morning and already the sun had fully risen, greeting him with it’s too bright glare. Even though the streets were empty, the brightness was something that brought more discomfort than comfort after spending a long night cowered in shadows. It always felt too telling, too open and igniting. It made him feel like all the grunge from the previous night was left open to the new day.
It wasn’t quite warm and the slight chill of a cool breeze whistled through his hair as he stepped toward the street. He made it two steps before he stopped, eyes widening in surprise.
“Hotsuma?” He blinked. There was no mistaking the head of blonde hair, those golden-amber eyes, the long and lean figure-powerful arms hidden beneath a jacket, ears covered in piercings. He was leaning against the wall just outside the club, hands buried within the folds of his pants, one booted foot propped up against the wall for support. He was standing in the exact same place he had seen Jekyll and Hyde only hours ago.
Whether Hotsuma heard the close of the door or Shusei’s sharp intake of breath he didn’t know, but right at that moment Hotsuma’s gaze left the ground and looked toward him. There was a brief moment of stunned surprise, almost as if he was surprised to find him there, but it settled away almost as quickly as it appeared. Slowly, a smirk came to outline the curve of Hotsuma’s lips as he pushed himself away from the wall.
“Hotsuma, what are you doing here?” Shusei just watched Hotsuma as the other man stalked closer, not looking at him directly but instead focusing those eyes on something in the distance like he was afraid to meet Shusei's gaze.
“I told you I wanted to see you again.”
“The bar is already closed…” It was the only thing Shusei could think to say. He could feel his exhaustion all the way in his bones because it’s been a long night and the bar has only just closed and-what was Hotsuma doing here anyway?
Then he remembered the look that Tachibana had given him, the slight smug smile, the way his hands had clasped underneath his jaw and his eyes squinted.
Tachibana knew he was here.
Hotsuma’s boots shuffled against loose pebbles on the ground and his hands tried to bury themselves further into the pockets of his jeans. “Well…er…” He rubbed a hand through his hair. “I don’t exactly have the money to buy that expensive champagne again so soon…so I thought maybe you’d settle for some breakfast instead?”
Shusei blinked.
“I mean, you’re hungry right? You’ve gotta eat after all.” There was a slight flush in Hotsuma’s cheeks and he wouldn’t look at him directly-no, just staring at the space beside Shusei’s head or maybe a glance down at the ground beside the black leather shoes he wore. He could feel the stickiness of spilled liquor on their soles and Shusei absently wondered if Hotsuma could see that as clearly as he must be able to read the lines of exhaustion hanging underneath his eyes.
Shusei glanced over his shoulder at the bar and it’s closed doors. It’s already so late and there are only so many hours the sun will sit in its sequestered place before it too lays down for bed and Shusei will have to rise again. He looked back at Hotsuma, at the man with the blonde hair who won’t quite meet his eyes but was willing to buy an overpriced champagne only two nights ago to meet him-a person he’d never seen except on the back of buildings and posters surrounded by gaudy neon lights.
All Shusei can think about is returning home to his impersonal apartment and curling under the covers of the blankets he knows so well, returning to the darkness encased in closed curtains and just bask it in, just forget everything that has made this night another night he doesn’t want to remember…
Hotsuma finally looked up toward him and Shusei caught sight of those golden amber eyes and the way they seemed to suck up the light and burn brighter. They really did make him think of a fire, one unable to yield to water or closed quarters, one that could rip and tear through everything. Out here, in the light of the day and no longer masked by the dim lights of the club, only then could Shusei understand how truly bright they shone. It was almost…mesmerizing.
“Okay.”
The way Hotsuma’s face lit up took Shusei by surprise-almost by as much surprise as when Hotsuma reached over and grabbed Shusei’s wrist, giving it a gentle tug as he began to lead him down the street. “I know this great little place that I go to sometimes. You’ll like it.” Shusei could see the way Hotsuma bit his lip before continuing. “Though it may not be that fancy…”
“It’s fine.” The relief was almost visible in Hotsuma’s eyes. “Ah, but you know…you don’t have to buy the most expensive champagne to see me. Any drink will get you table.”
“What?! That Tachibana-bastard said only buying that champagne would get me in. I waited outside all damn night for you.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.” Tachibana was manager of New World for a reason.
“Next time I see that bastard I’m going to…” Hotsuma’s words trailed off as if he realized his fingers had gripped Shusei’s wrist tighter in his irritation. Blinking, Hotsuma let go of his wrist and buried his hands back into the pockets of his pants, as if he didn’t know what else to do with them other than keep them out of sight and mind.
Silence filled the space between them as Hotsuma led the way down the street. It was too early for the streets to be crowded so there was plenty of space for them to meander down the sidewalks. This early in the morning there was still trash littering the ground of the usually spotless city, and they took careful steps to avoid cups and flyers that marred the cement at their feet.
Finally, Hotsuma spoke up even if his eyes never left the space in front of them. "Tell me more about yourself."
Shusei glanced at Hotsuma out of the corner of his eye. "There's nothing to tell."
"There's always something to tell." Hotsuma kicked aside an empty bottle in front of them and it clanked against the cement until it spun out into the street.
"I think we should talk about you instead. Have you always lived here, Hotsuma?"
"Shusei, don't avoid my question!"
"What do you do for a living?"
"Hey! I was…"
"Do you live in the area?"
"Shusei!" Hotsuma stopped walking and grabbed Shusei’s shoulders, forcing him to stop and look at him and stop dancing around his questions. "Don't treat me like some client paying for attention and praise. I want to know more about you so stop trying to ignore me."
A long sigh dragged out from between Shusei's lips as he reached up a hand and gingerly removed Hotsuma's hand from his shoulder. "You really don't get it do you Hotsuma?" He shook his head at Hotsuma's blank expression and walked forward, untangling himself from Hotsuma's clasp. "Let's keep walking for right now." Shusei heard the tap of Hotsuma’s boots against the pavement as he caught up with him.
"Is it some sort of rule that you can't tell me about yourself? I-don’t really know how all this host stuff works."
"Don't be ridiculous." Shusei leaned toward him, bumping their shoulders together so he could whisper into his ear as if telling a secret. "There aren’t rules like that. If I simply told you everything about me then you'd only get bored of me. Don’t you think it’s more interesting this way?" He leaned away and started to move again.
They kept walking but Shusei felt Hotsuma's eyes on him. "Shusei, now you're the one being ridiculous. I want to get to know you better. I will never get tired of you."
Shusei stared at Hotsuma, mouth open and poised to speak but before he had a chance to utter a word Hotsuma was jogging a few steps ahead to the entrance of the place he was taking them.
The place Hotsuma had chosen was a small family run restaurant. Shusei could smell the salty taste of freshly made miso soup in the air as Hotsuma slid open the shoji doors and led the way inside. They discarded their shoes near the entranceway and Hotsuma picked a table near one of the only windows in the small building. It was still early and they were the only customers aside from a single man sipping a cup of tea at a table in the far corner of the room. Shusei tucked his legs underneath the small table, wondering when he had last eaten at a traditional Japanese restaurant like this.
“What do you like to eat?”
Shusei leaned his elbow on the table, his chin resting in his open palm. “I’m not really that hungry.”
“Are you just going to sit there and watch me eat then?”
“Wouldn’t that be more entertaining?”
Hotsuma grumbled underneath his breath, but it was harmless grumbling-one that was betrayed by the way his hands fumbled to call over the waiter and he hurried to order food for them both. He didn’t look at Shusei again, not until he seemed to collect himself and could meet Shusei’s waiting gaze once again.
“Do you…always do that…?”
“Hm?”
“Talk like that…like there’s more to what you’re saying.” When Shusei was silent Hotsuma kept talking, maybe nervously rambling, unable to stop his voice from speaking. “When you say those things-“
Shusei reached out his hand to grasp Hotsuma’s on the other side of the table. They hadn’t touched since then, hadn’t done more than brush a shoulder against each other-and Shusei was almost surprised to feel not the slightest bit of a tremble in Hotsuma’s hand. If anything, if there was anything at all, it seemed too steady. It was so peculiar, when Hotsuma seemed so easily overcome by his advances.
“-you say those things but you don’t mean them, do you?”
Shusei‘s hand stopped, he blinked, suddenly unable to move.
“There’s a distance in you. I don’t really know that much about hosts-is that normal? Or is this just some sorta lie?”
Ah…this was why he was here. This was why he was pacing in front of the bar, waiting for him to finally leave. This was why there was a kind of flustered look lurking within the depths of his eyes, an unknown gravity that was chaining him to this moment.
Shusei withdrew his hand and leaned his elbows forward on the tabletop. It could all end here so simply. Hotsuma was here because he felt something last night, because there was something that drove his curiosity, made him believe there might actually be a future in the foundations they had laid with one another.
They all always thought this way.
Every woman, every single one of them, always thought they had a future with him. They stayed because they believed it, bought drink after drink for weeks, months, sometimes even years-simply because they believed in the words he whispered into their ears, promises he never kept, the future he would never have with them.
Shusei knew what he was supposed to say at this point. He’d encountered this moment on so many occasions that it usually happened with such fluid ease-the words he had to say, the way he would bend the truth to make them understand exactly what he meant.
It was just a few words-a few words that could end this charade he had developed with Hotsuma, could forever cast him aside and return him to the normalcy of his regular nights, his regular clients. Or he could say them, string him along and keep this going. There was no way to say how long it would continue-because it always eventually ended when the women realized how little truth there ever had been to his words-but it would continue at least, for a little while.
“Hotsuma.“ His eyes looked too hopefully, so brimming with possibility that it made Shusei wonder if Hotsuma even recognized how much he had fallen. “I…”
Shusei, now you're the one being ridiculous. I want to get to know you better. I will never get tired of you.
Hotsuma’s words replayed in his head, stopping his thoughts, stopping everything.
I told you I wanted to see you again.
He tried to continue, this time another way. “It’s wrong to think…” Shusei’s body began to move before he even realized it. Panic, it ignited his animalistic instincts. He had to get out of this situation, he was feeling suffocated. His movements, already far too loud in the deserted restaurant, made him feel even more aware of the warning he felt deep in his gut. What was this feeling…this hesitation? He couldn’t say the words. He couldn’t tell Hotsuma that this was all really…
His lips felt dry. “This was a bad idea-“
Hotsuma stopped him-stopped his voice and the world from spinning with the grip of tightened fingertips clasping around the delicate and slender curves of his wrist.
“Don’t go.” The grip felt desperate, clinging to this moment and his skin.
Shusei sighed, a long breath of air that passed between his pursed lips and gave him a moment to just think as he looked down at Hotsuma. The other man was staring at the top of the table, not looking at him, not willing to bridge the gap in this situation either. He couldn’t say the words-but Hotsuma said them for him with his actions, with his don’t go that said all the things the women always meant when their fingers touched his shoulder or their body pressed against his.
Don’t go. That was what they all wanted-they didn’t want him to go to the next person, to leave them alone, to make them feel a pit of loneliness in the depths of their stomach-but he always would go. Going meant they would come back, order another drink, offer anything that would bring him back into their clutches. Women thought they came to host bars for men to give them affection, but really they came to run after that attention with orders of drinks and expensive seats.
This was something Shusei understood-something he could handle. The panic of a moment slowly slithered away into the distant corners of his mind as Shusei sat back down and Hotsuma let go of his wrist.
The waiter brought their breakfast, setting down the plates between them as silence hung heavy in the air, as tangible as clouds right before a thunderstorm. Hotsuma still didn’t look up, not even when Shusei sighed and reached for a pair of chopsticks. “Aren’t you going to eat?”
Hotsuma ignored him. “It wasn’t like I wanted to offend you-“
“You just don’t know what is real and what is fake?” Shusei offered, finishing for him.
“What do you think Hotsuma?” Shusei reached across the table, using the tips of his chopsticks to push Hotsuma’s chin upwards so that they were finally looking at one another. “What do you think is a lie?”
It was clear Hotsuma wasn’t going to answer so Shusei pressed further. “What brought you here in the first place?”
Hotsuma looked up. “What are you talking about?”
“I think you know.”
“You said you were mine…” There’s a pause, long enough for Hotsuma to bite back the last bit of his sentence. “…my host.”
He said that-of course he said that, he said it to every woman that came into the bar and chose him as their host. He was their host. There may be others that come and talk with them, but they would always be his as much as he was theirs.
“But is it okay…for me to want to know you as more than a host?”
Shusei looked at him, at the way his eyes seemed to widen just a bit, with just a small facet of hope and curiosity and maybe a little bit of longing.
Shusei didn’t understand it.
It was like all the other people that he met-the ones who came calling and wanting and needing his affection. Hotsuma wasn’t any different from them, not any worse for wanting to love and feel needed by another human being-but Shusei…he couldn’t understand it.
“Why?” The word slipped between his lips so softly that it was barely a whisper, but a whisper was enough for Hotsuma’s ears to catch it.
Suddenly, Hotsuma was smiling. It was like he had expected a different answer, not a question-a question that Shusei always left unanswered and unknown because it didn’t really matter, did it? Why they needed him, why they wanted his attention and his affection?
“Because you’re amazing Shusei. You…you have something I never could.”
Shusei breath held in his chest, unable to move the air in his lungs.
“Maybe it’s because I’m good-for-nothing.” Hotsuma ran a hand through his hair, ruffling the blonde strands into disarray. “I take night classes down the street even though I hate school, I have a crappy part-time job, and my roommate thinks I spend too much time playing video games instead of studying…” He paused. “But you, ever since I first saw that picture of you, I knew you were something special. You were someone special.”
Hotsuma looked up, met his gaze. “Why wouldn’t I want to get to know you?”
Shusei could do nothing but stare.
“Shusei…?”
Hotsuma-he never did or said anything Shusei expected. Even these words he said so effortlessly...they were unlike anything anyone had ever to spoken to him before. Nothing like the love that women declared, the marriages they spoke of, or the future they wanted it.
“Shusei, are you listening to me?”
Reality, slowly came back to him. “You should come again.”
“What?”
“To the bar. Another time.” A breath. “You should come.”
“You…wouldn’t mind?”
Shusei’s lips curled upward into a smile, eyes squinting. “As long as you don’t tax my body too much. I may be a host but I have my limits and men tend to be more…aggressive.”
“Shu-Shusei I wouldn’t-I mean-“
He tried-he really did, but the rumble of laughter that rolled up from the pit of his stomach could not be contained-not when Hotsuma was looking at him with that flustered expression and hands practically waving through the air. He was so tired but that laughter-that giving away to all the stress and the worries and for once not thinking about his client but just being-it was impossible to resist. When he laughed Hotsuma looked at him like he was really seeing him for the first time. The soft lines around Hotsuma's face became more gentle, more giving and accepting, even if he was being teased and strung along by Shusei's joke.
It wasn't until the laughter finally died away and Shusei was brushing tears from the corners of his eyes that he realized that he hadn't once tried being the perfect host-that there were no whispered promises, no overt attempts at affection-just the two of them, being themselves amongst the lies they had woven without really acting on them or acknowledging them. They sat together knowing they had been brought together because of what each person was; what Hotsuma had wanted and needed, what Shusei could provide-and it was so easily stripped away that Shusei hadn't even noticed the affect Hotsuma had on him, how everything had just...slipped away.
As Shusei stared across the table at Hotsuma, watching as the other man picked up his chopsticks and started to devour the food in front of them, only then did Shusei realize how his chest ached.
When had he let Hotsuma infect him? Take him over and grab everything from him?
Hotsuma looked up with a bowl of rice at his lips and chopsticks buried in the tiny white grains. "Eat, Shusei, you already look too thin."
Shusei blinked, pausing only a moment before picking up his own chopsticks and doing exactly as Hotsuma said.
+ + + +
When Shusei finally returned to his apartment he slowly closed the front door. The door closed with a heavy click as a wave of hushed silence fell over him, the noises from outside no longer permeating through the halls and his thoughts. He closed his eyes, finally able to think, to process the thoughts that washed over him the moment he had the space to breathe.
Before saying goodbye he had stood in front of the restaurant with Hotsuma, the early morning sun now heating up the sky and the streets beginning to fill. It was then that Hotsuma had kissed him. It had been a sudden action, one filled with bursting hesitancy in the moments before Hotsuma leaned forward and pressed their lips together. He had felt one of Hotsuma's arms slip along his lower back, holding him in place, keeping him steady. It lasted only a moment-just a quick brush of lip against lip before Hotsuma stepped back and looked away, a little flustered but eyes also brimming with those amber flames that seemed to soak up the sun. Shusei could still feel the salty taste of miso soup on his lips.
“I’ll…um…come see you again soon.” Hotsuma had said, teetering back and forth on the heels of his shoes like a nervous teenager afraid of rejection.
"If you want," had brushed off his lips as delicate as a whisper. He would have said that to any other woman-even though this time the words came rushing out between his lips far quicker than he meant to say them, with far too much hope that Hotsuma might actually return again.
Hotsuma. He was completely unlike any other person he had known before, a complexity he didn’t quite understand but felt drawn to nonetheless.
Shusei turned around, pressing his back against the solid frame of the front door and slid down to its foundation. He grabbed the fabric of his shirt, bunching it up in a clenched fist as he tried to ease the rapid beat of his heart.
The feeling that gripped his chest was so foreign and invasive that he wanted nothing more than to get it out of his body-but with each second that ticked by each pronounced ache in his chest only caused a dull throb in the back of his head. It made him feel uncertain...unstable.
You’re amazing Shusei. You…you have something I never could. Why wouldn’t I want to get to know you?
Those words were as dangerous as the person who spoke them.
How could Hotsuma not realize…? Shusei wasn’t the one that shone-it was him.
It was all him.
Author: masanami
Character(s): Hotsuma/Shusei, mentions of Senshirou/Kuroto, Takashiro, Tachibana, and others
Word Count: 9,050
Rating: R
Warnings: Host AU. Suggestive material.
Summary: Shusei's the perfect host and Hotsuma's the perfect person to ruin everything for him.
It’s still light out when Shusei’s eyes open.
The blankets curled around his body feel heavy and warm, almost smothering him as he stared up at the ceiling and the lines of shadows that played on the walls. It’s not quite sunset-he could tell from the darker hues of light that shone in from the cracks in the curtains-but it’s beginning to get later in the day. The change that the night brings as it envelopes the city in darkness is something he’s more than familiar with. It’s a change he can almost taste on his lips, a heaviness he can feel in his bones.
He’s accustomed himself to the night. It was a unavoidable thing really, one left mandatory by his profession, a necessary prerequisite for employment. There’s a certain harshness the night brings, a sense that leaves him quietly grasping for the equilibrium that the day anchors, when it ushers away all the hazy imbalance clustered in nighttime clubs and street side dealings.
Brushing a hand across his brow, Shusei sighed. The faint memories of the previous night are still nestled within the depths of his mind, just on the cusp of his thoughts and consciousness. He doesn’t like it, remembering them the next morning. There are days when he’s drunken himself into such an oblivion-unable to turn away the drinks that he’s offered in the bar because that also is a necessity of his profession-where he can no longer recall the people he’s seen or the words he’s said. There’s a quiet unsettling unease about that, but also a feeling that’s drenched in comfort. There are nights where he’d rather forget than remember-mistakes he selfishly wants to disown. Even though he’s trying he can’t seem to forget the fact that there’s-
There’s a man with blonde hair in his memories.
He has a set of eyes that match his own, but their depth is almost amber instead of a deep gold-reminding him of the swirling center of a flame, one whose center teeters on the edge of bursting. His hair was almost as unruly and untamed as the gaze locked behind those eyes, all bleached strands and ends left to tangle amongst themselves. Ears covered in piercings, clothes that speak of just not caring-all things that told Shusei with a single glance that he’s trouble.
That night Shusei didn’t see Hotsuma enter the bar or maybe he wouldn’t have let himself be swayed by Tachibana’s words. Just one look would have told him that this was a person he needed to be careful around.
I’m not interested, Tachibana.
Just entertain him for a bit. He’s bought the most expensive drink on the menu, we can’t just turn him away.
He knew better, he should have never of allowed Tachibana to talk him into accepting another client-for accepting a male client-when he was already juggling more than he could handle. Each new person that demanded his attention was another moment when he had to switch personas, become someone they wanted and needed when they chose to walk through the front doors of the bar.
Shusei turned away from the shadows playing on his ceiling and laid on his side, clutching the softness of his pillow between his arms. He had finally conceded to Tachibana’s request only after thinking it would be simple enough to get rid of the man-after all, men weren’t that different from women and if being too forward was enough to scare off a woman than certainly it would work for a man-but this man didn’t act like he expected. When he brushed himself against Hotsuma’s body he could almost feel the tingle of excitement run through the other man, feel the hungry need held back within those lustful eyes-he should have known better, he should have known the moment he saw that look lurking within the depths of those golden eyes that his plan would never work.
That kiss never should have happened.
He never should have shared those words, never should have spoken things he would have so effortlessly of told other women-this man, this Hotsuma was someone to be weary of. It may not be fully noticeable, may not even be something that was fully comprehendible, but he could feel it within the depths of his chest. There was something about Hotsuma that screamed of breaking. There was something in the feel of his forceful hands pushing his lips into a deeper kiss that caused a shudder to ripple down Shusei’s spine and haunt his memories. He had lost himself far too easily in that kiss.
Shusei pushed aside the covers from his bed and swung his legs off to sit on the edge. His feet felt cold against the solid, untouched ground.
He could still feel the bruises on his lips.
He let himself get carried away. He let someone push him into a corner, garner a type kind of control that no one should have. That was exactly why Hotsuma Renjou was dangerous. He had underestimated a situation that he had been sure he understood, let himself be swept away by those burning eyes and the feel of those strong arms running through his hair, the soft feel of lips pressed against-
Sighing, Shusei finally stood and looked around the dim apartment. There was little inside it’s small walls-nothing personal, just the things he would need every night-the clothes, the accessories. Only a few books piled on top of each other near the light stand held any real personal value and even those could be purchased at any bookstore for a small price. He walked over to the single mirror next to the dresser that housed the majority of his possessions and stared into it.
His hair was in disarray, brown strands tossed and flayed around his face from a restless sleep. His eyes held a heaviness that was visible in the slight darkening and puffiness underneath his eyes.
He looked…so tired.
Had it really bothered him so much as to deprive him of what little sleep he was able to get? Some people thought that he was cold and detached as a person, but he had always known how to show just enough warmth, how to slip on a face or expression perfect for any situation-it was the thing that made him so successful as a host. But now he felt like that mask had been brutally ripped away, stripped from him by an unexpected encounter. He didn’t like it, not feeling like he was in control…
It-it made him feel like he didn’t even know who he was anymore.
He’d gotten so good at masking his emotions, at playing the perfect host and companion that sometimes he didn’t even know who the real Shusei was anymore. He just became whoever they wanted, whatever they needed and nothing more. Nothing made him earnestly feel his own emotions anymore.
Not until-it wasn’t like it mattered anyway. He didn’t live for anything. His existence didn’t really matter in a world where he molded himself to fit the needs of others. He’d given up on the rest long ago and now he was just…tired.
Tired of living in this world that no longer meant anything to him.
+ + + +
The streets were illuminated in neon lights by the time Shusei left his apartment.
The subway station near his apartment wasn’t crowded but it’s busy enough that he stood in front of the double glass doors and stared at his reflection while the train swayed back and forth. He could feel the press of people around him even if they didn’t touch him-the heat of their breath was enough to tell him they were there. He focused his eyes on the glass windows in front of him, staring through the reflection at the other people that sat sequestered in tiny seats.
He felt their stares on him, the way they just knew what he was and what he did without asking. It’s something he’s learned ignore a long time ago, a thought that barely graces the back of his mind. He’s gotten used to it, to this lifestyle and the late hours-to going to work when the sun begins to set and not leaving until it’s bright in the sky again. He’s accustomed himself to the looks that greet him in the subway and sidewalks, the long glances over the shoulder or the way eyes flicker away from meeting his own.
No one wants to meet the gaze of a host-of a beautiful man whose job is to lure a person in with a single smile meant to snatch both money and affection.
But it’s not as if there is any truth to those words in the first place. The only truth lies in this city and this district that houses those looking for something. They come to bars and clubs, to strip joints and prostitution places-they buy sex and company and conversation because there’s something missing in their lives. It has nothing to do with the whispered words he promises, but everything to do with the people that seek him out.
They’re all the same as him. They’re missing something-they just choose a different way to find or live without it.
When Shusei finally left Shinjuku station the sun hadn’t quite set on the horizon. The busy sidewalks of Tokyo greeted Shusei as the city stared at him, painted in hues of purple and pink. The nightlife of Shinjuku began early and before darkness can fully sweep across the city the neon lights are already beginning to flash. Around him he could hear the sounds of clicking heels and idle chit-chat, feel the weight of glances toward him as he crossed the street. Most of the people he saw he's familiar with-they're beautiful women with make up painting their faces and hair crunched and weaved into molded perfection. There are men too; dressed impeccably in suits, spiked hair, and the latest fashion. He's among them even though he doesn’t count them as people he knows. They are men and women that sell themselves for money, for the promise of a different life, for a sense of belonging. He wouldn’t even call these people acquaintances even if they share a similar profession. They are the same people that claimed this lifestyle was merely a temporary stepping stone to something bigger no matter how many months and years passed. Their lives and stories-their own personal tragedies didn’t interest him. He had no sympathy for those that could not learn to move forward-regardless of whether they had to walk or crawl-or simply make peace with the fate that they had chosen for themselves.
Their presence alone made the city feel hot and heavy as he made his way to the bar.
Kabuchiko is different from the rest of Shinjuku and by the time he gets there it isn’t quite brimming with life but it’s beginning to get that way. There is a quiet hum that runs through the district, so distinctly tailored to this place, that Shusei is sure he’s never heard or felt it anywhere else. It’s not necessarily a clean hum, but something more dirty and rough. For all the attempts to glamour the sidewalks and faces, there is still the underline grunge that never escapes Shusei’s sight.
When he rounded the corner that would take him to the main street where New World is located he can see that filth in front of his eyes-all tight leather, studs, and bleached hair straightened in upward spikes. It’s a set of four eyes that look so similar that Shusei can’t tell one from the other, save for the slight difference in dyed hair, a single line that sprouts from the forehead on different sides. He knows these two twins, they like to go by the name Jekyll and Hyde.
“Ahah, if it isn’t Mr. Number-One-Host himself.” Shusei isn’t sure which one is talking, Jekyll or Hyde, because their voices sound the same from where they are leaning against the wall near the entranceway to the bar. Their booted feet are caked in mud and it’s ruining the clean walls where they’ve made themselves welcome. Shusei can’t help but notice the streaks of dirt that have been smeared on the normally spotless walls. Their filth is contagious and it’s caking the walls of a familiar place.
Shusei doesn’t bother to answer them, just continues to walk and maybe wonder in the back of his mind how two people can walk through the streets of Tokyo in this heat in all that leather and not smell like rotting carcasses. Maybe it’s just because they’ve decided to pretty themselves up, cover up their stench just like this red light district tries to hide all the scandals and dirt within it’s walls plastered in neon lights and posters.
“You don’t want to talk to us?” Shusei’s pretty sure this is a different one speaking this time, but he doesn’t bother taking the time to look up and check the hair and maybe tell the difference. It’s only when one of them blocks his path, the only narrow entrance into the bar, that he finally stops walking and forces himself to look up.
There’s a grin on his face-this one is Hyde, he’s pretty sure-and the makeup that dots the corner of his eyes is seared from where he’s probably been rubbing sweat off his face, making the pale skin that covers his body look more clammy and death-like than usual. He licked his lips, slowly drawing his long tongue over the ridge of darkened, lipstick stained bumps, as he looked Shusei up and down. He looked like a predator trying to size up a prey just before the attack.
“Ahh-you’re lucky Reiga-sama told us to wait out here and behave. I wouldn’t mind tossing you around a bit-get rid of some of that pretty that makes you so popular.”
“I’m sure Takashiro would love that.” It’s the other one, Jekyll, whose moved to stand behind Shusei, whispering words that are close enough to his ears that he can feel the heat of Jekyll’s breath tingling his neck. “…to see his precious host all bloody and bruised and beaten.”
Then there was laughter surrounding him, high and mocking, the cadence of their voices like a shrill scream. “Hahaha but thenagain we also heard Takashiro is the type of person who’d use his own little brother to sell a little more liquor to the pretty ladies. I heard he was even prettier than you.”
Hyde wedged a long finger under Shusei's chin, stroking the corner of his jawline with his too long fingernails. “I still think you’d look nice pinned against-“
Shusei smacked away Hyde’s hand with enough force to jerk his entire arm away. “Don’t touch me,” he bit out and shoved his way past the other man. The shove was hard enough for Hyde to trip toward the wall and force him to reach out his hands to brace himself from slamming head-first into it. Shusei could hear the grumble of anger swirling behind him as he moved toward the front door and narrowed his golden eyes to look over his shoulder as Jekyll tried to hold Hyde back-a clenched fist already midway through the air, a snarl on bared teeth.
"You better watch your back, host." Hyde spit out.
Shusei just looked at him, words on the tip of his tongue, but decided it wasn’t worth the effort to speak to them. He just turned and let the other twin try to talk Hyde down as he stepped into the bar. He already had a bad taste in his mouth and spitting out angry words wasn’t going to make him feel any better. Trying to converse with trash never held much appeal to him anyway.
He didn’t hear the sound of Hyde of following him, just the echo of his hollow threat once he’s inside the club. He’s there early but the music is already playing through the empty interior. It's a soft melody in the background, one that will just permeate through the garbled noise of conversation once the building is packed to the brim with bodies sitting shoulder to shoulder-but right now it's empty and the music is louder than he's used to hearing and he finds the faint melody relaxing. He supposes that's the purpose after all-because why else come to a bar of this caliber if not to find the soothing relaxation that comes with it's manufactured design?
The building itself is bigger than most of the other clubs. Despite the need for space to fill with couches and thus potential customers, the New World bar is more aesthetic in decor. There are couches and plush chairs hugging the walls, but there is also a wall of bamboo and a small stone water fountain that runs across the back of the main bar. Even over the music Shusei can hear the light babble coming from the rushing water and he knows without a doubt that it adds to the soothing and tranquil spirit that has been carefully manufactured into the design of the building.
Shusei moved toward the back hallway where the staff room was located when a flash of movement caught his attention.
His eyes hadn’t quite adjusted to the darkness of the bar, but he could see the motion of a moving body and the voice attached to it is familiar enough for his breath to hitch in his chest and his jaw to clench. He heard the voice before he could see clearly the body attached to it. “I apologize for their…lack of behavior.” An almost amused sigh from a voice Shusei immediately recognized. “They really have no manners.”
“You should keep them on a shorter leash then.”
Reiga Giou stepped into Shusei’s focus with an amused smirk pulling at the straight-lipped expression that he wore. “That would be easier, wouldn’t it?” Black hair brushing along the sides of his face, Reiga looked at Shusei, nose wrinkling in some form of disgust that he didn’t bother to mask behind a set of intense gray eyes. Reiga, for all his dealings with hosts and bars and clubs, always thought less of everyone except-
Shusei’s golden eyes looked beyond Reiga and down the hallway, expecting to find another person there-knowing there was another person here, one that garnered enough affection or provoked enough to warrant Reiga’s attention.
But there was no one else around.
“Hm.” The sound ringing off Reiga’s lips was enough to pull Shusei back into focus, to step aside when the man began to shoulder his way past him. “But I’m afraid no leash is short enough when a wild dog is provoked. You’d do well to remember that as well, Shusei-kun.”
Reiga’s threat hung in the air even after Shusei heard the door to the bar close and the muffled conversation outside.
Shusei glanced over his shoulder and at the closed door for a moment longer before he turned away, trying to stop his fingers from clenching into a fist as he stepped into the staff room. It's still early enough that no one else has come in yet so Shusei found the room to himself. The room itself was small with a mirror that stretched the entire length of one wall. Shusei didn’t bother to glance into it as he tossed his suit jacket on the back of one of the chairs and decides that for tonight he’s going to abandon it-it’s far too humid for the extra layers. He’s had enough close encounters with extra heat in the last few minutes to last him the night. Reiga Giou always left him feeling unsettled and uneasy.
He adjusted the vest that’s slung snuggly around his chest and the crisp lines of his dress shirt underneath. The night had yet to begin but he already felt on the edge even if he knew there was still the assurance of whispered words, soft caresses, and hollowed promises. There were certain things he could always count on in this place, things that never changed.
Shusei closed his eyes.
Soon enough the other men would arrive and the tranquility of the silence of a bar that is normally throbbing with life and conversation will end. Sometimes Shusei prefers these moments, right before the storm, when it’s just him and the silence and the gentle music lulling him and preparing him for a long night.
When he was younger he used to play the piano and he could still remember how the gentle vibrations ringing from such a large instrument could sooth him-how it felt very much the same as it did now.
"Shusei."
He knew that voice. He didn’t need to turn around to know who was standing behind him, who probably had his eyes trained on his back and was watching the way his shoulder blades moved as he straightened the front of his shirt. Takashiro Giou is one of the few people that Shusei feels vulnerable around-as if he can see and feel right through him-as if he’s one of the women that just knows everything he says is a lie but still plays along, because she’s amused and wants to see how he will keep trying to string her along.
Because sometimes it’s a game they both play.
Finally, he turned and saw Takashiro standing there just as he anticipated-impeccably dressed in a charcoal gray designer suit, long hair pulled back in a ponytail that cascades down his shoulder, a long scar running across his cheek that is barely hidden by wisps of brownish-blonde hair that fall from the binding at the nape of his neck.
Takashiro is tall enough that Shusei has to train his gaze upward to meet his eyes-eyes that always seem to be calculating, always seem to watch him. He doesn’t say anything, not even as Takashiro steps into the room, and a clench grips him deep in his chest.
“You don’t look well, Shusei.” Takashiro took in the empty surroundings with a quick glance before his gaze finally settled on Shusei. He reached out a hand, brushing the backs of his fingertips along the sides of Shusei’s face. “Maybe you should take the night off. I can’t have my number one host getting ill on me.”
“I’m fine.” Shusei’s lips pursed in a straight line, hands resting at his sides. Takashiro’s fingers felt warm against his face.
“That so?” Takashiro chuckled, letting his fingers drop after brushing them through Shusei’s hair, causing a tingle to run down Shusei’s spine. “Tachibana tells me you had an interesting night yesterday. A male client, huh?”
“Male or female, a customer is a customer.”
“Ah, that’s my Shusei. Always the perfect host.” A playful smirk spread across Takashiro’s lips as he adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose. “Just be careful, Shusei. Got it?”
Shusei glanced away, looking into the mirror and his reflection. His own golden eyes stared back at him, tired but not so darkened around the edges after the cold shower he took before leaving to come here. He could even mask his exhaustion if he needed to. “It doesn’t mean anything, anyway.” He wondered if that was really true-or if one day all the lies would catch up and strangle him.
“That’s not what I meant.” Shusei felt Takashiro’s arm sling over his shoulders, pulling him against his side, squeezing him. “Don’t forget the nature of this profession.”
Shusei felt the corner of his lips twitch in irritation but he didn’t say anything, just nodded his head, once and curtly, even as he felt the rumble of Takashiro’s chest when he chuckled.
“Good, then make sure you continue to keep business good.” Finally, Takashiro released his shoulders and patted him on the back. “It’s sure to be a busy night.”
Shusei was glad when Takashiro didn’t say anymore, didn’t push the subject, or even go as far as to outright ban Hotsuma from coming back-not that Shusei thought he really might come back-because certainly Takashiro might not like the image projected by a male client in a bar meant for women even if he sounded amused a moment ago.
But perhaps the admission was simply because there were bigger things on Takashiro’s mind…such as Reiga’s presence now, of all times, when the popularity of New World among the host clubs in Kabuchiko was unparalleled. Even Shusei didn’t know how deeply the ties between those men laid.
In the distance Shusei could hear the growing sound of approaching voices and before Shusei could look toward the doorway, Takashiro was already leaving. “Do well tonight, Shusei.” He said before disappearing down the darkened hallway.
Shusei watched the space where Takashiro had gone until the voices he heard coming down the hallway grew louder and Kuroto finally walked into the room along side another man. This person was taller than Kuroto with almost honey colored eyes hidden behind a pair of thin-framed glasses. His hair was so light in color that it almost looked white when the light hit it just right-a tantalizing opposite with the way he walked next to Kuroto, the other man pressed against his side and an arm casually slung across his shoulder. Shusei instantly recognized Senshirou.
As soon as Kuroto noticed Shusei was in the room he knocked Senshirou’s arm off his shoulder with a shrug, a brief moment of surprise quickly slipping past his visage when he realized they weren’t alone anymore.
“Kuroto-“ The quick look of befuddlement that spread across Senshirou’s face dissipated when his eyes caught hold of Shusei’s gaze. “Ah, Shusei, it’s good to see you again.” His eyes squinted slightly behind his glasses as a gentle smile caressed his lips. “It’s been a while.”
Shusei merely nodded a greeting, watching as Senshirou turned to Kuroto and ran his fingers along the side of the other man’s face, causing a flush of red to creep into Kuroto’s cheeks. “You’re so cute Kuroto, but it’s only Shusei. There’s no need to act so distant.”
“Tch.” Kuroto grumbled as he stepped away from Senshirou’s side and thus the reach of his arms. He folded his arms across his chest, black hair sweeping before his slightly narrowed eyes. “Don’t say such things, people will get the wrong impression.”
Senshirou just laughed at Kuroto’s words, trying to place a hand on the shorter man’s shoulders though Kuroto made sure he was out of reach. “You’re never affectionate in front of others.” Kuroto ignored him, instead moving to the other side of the room and busying himself with getting ready for the night.
Shaking his head, Senshirou looked at Shusei. “You should come by the studio soon. I have those new prints ready for proofing from the last photo shoot and I thought you’d like to see them before Takashiro has a chance to use that tendency of his to flaunt your pictures all over Shinjuku again.”
“That was slightly irritating.”
“But it helped business didn’t it? Brought in some more clients for you, I’m sure.” Senshirou laughed. “Takashiro does have a way of doing things…the way he wants. I won’t ever forget that about him.”
“And I’m sure he’d love to see you here chatting instead of working on his prints.” Kuroto snapped from across the room. “You didn’t need to walk me here in the first place.”
“Ah, I think I’m being told to go home.” Senshirou smiled again, this time directed at Shusei. “It was nice seeing you again, Shusei. Come around sometime soon. I’ll treat you to lunch.”
Shusei watched as Senshirou stared at Kuroto’s turned back, a slight tilt coming to his head before he waved a goodbye to them both and left. The moment he was gone Kuroto turned around, jaw clenched in frustration. “Tch, that Senshirou never knows when to keep his mouth shut.” Kuroto said once Senshirou was out of earshot. Even though he sounded irritated his eyes still trained the spot where Senshirou had been moments ago, as if he thought it may have been his last time seeing him.
Shusei’s eyes fell on Kuroto-the way his shoulders shagged and he seemed to just let go, as if the energy that had been filling the air and space between him and Senshirou was one he knew as only fleeting.
Looking at that gaze in Kuroto’s eyes, in the chest fallen stare, Shusei was struck by the loneliness that seemed to befallen the other man. Somehow, without asking, but just knowing-Shusei just knew that no woman in this bar or these streets could ever hold a measure of Senshirou’s worth in Kuroto’s eyes.
It made Shusei wonder if he was even capable of such earnest feelings-because they felt so far out of Shusei's grasp, so completely unattainable because of his marred past and the things that had eventually brought him to this time and place.
Certainly there was nothing left in him to feel.
Nothing there but an empty void.
+ + + +
Shusei could feel the night in his bones. It manifested itself as aches and sores, and memories he wants to get rid of. When the night is finally over he’s just that much more tired even if he’s richer from his efforts. It’s so late by the time his final client leaves that all the other hosts have already left or are on their way out when he finally bids her farewell after calling a taxi and escorting her outside.
She’s all smiles as she slips into the dark interior of the cab, probably not even aware of how much she’s spent throughout the night to keep him by her side, but she’s still smiling all the same-even when Shusei shuts the door and lets out a long sigh of relief, glad she’s finally gone. He heads back inside of the bar, cognizant of how the sky is beginning to light up in hues of dark blue and just how long it’s been since he’s had a moment of quiet.
“Try to get some rest Shusei.”
It’s Tachibana’s voice that stops him after he grabs his things and heads for the front doors. Shusei looked toward the bar where Tachibana sat with a smug smile on his lips and yen piled around him as he took in the night’s earnings. He was leaning forward with his chin resting on the palm of his hands. He had taken a moment’s break from counting money-several bills still clutched loosely inbetween his fingers-whenever Shusei walked by him.
“The girls can always tell when a host is tired or distracted, even one as good as you.” Tachibana’s eyes squinted just a bit as his smile widened. “Though I don’t think guys can quite grasp that about one another.”
“I’ll be fine, Tachibana.” Shusei couldn’t hide the irritation in his voice, the way it coated over each syllable that passed between his lips. He didn’t need someone else pointing out to him that he was exhausted.
“Of course you will, Shu-kun. Never thought otherwise.”
Tachibana went back to counting and Shusei turned to leave. He sighed as he tucked his hands inside the pockets of his pants, shouldering open the door of the bar. It was only five o’clock in the morning and already the sun had fully risen, greeting him with it’s too bright glare. Even though the streets were empty, the brightness was something that brought more discomfort than comfort after spending a long night cowered in shadows. It always felt too telling, too open and igniting. It made him feel like all the grunge from the previous night was left open to the new day.
It wasn’t quite warm and the slight chill of a cool breeze whistled through his hair as he stepped toward the street. He made it two steps before he stopped, eyes widening in surprise.
“Hotsuma?” He blinked. There was no mistaking the head of blonde hair, those golden-amber eyes, the long and lean figure-powerful arms hidden beneath a jacket, ears covered in piercings. He was leaning against the wall just outside the club, hands buried within the folds of his pants, one booted foot propped up against the wall for support. He was standing in the exact same place he had seen Jekyll and Hyde only hours ago.
Whether Hotsuma heard the close of the door or Shusei’s sharp intake of breath he didn’t know, but right at that moment Hotsuma’s gaze left the ground and looked toward him. There was a brief moment of stunned surprise, almost as if he was surprised to find him there, but it settled away almost as quickly as it appeared. Slowly, a smirk came to outline the curve of Hotsuma’s lips as he pushed himself away from the wall.
“Hotsuma, what are you doing here?” Shusei just watched Hotsuma as the other man stalked closer, not looking at him directly but instead focusing those eyes on something in the distance like he was afraid to meet Shusei's gaze.
“I told you I wanted to see you again.”
“The bar is already closed…” It was the only thing Shusei could think to say. He could feel his exhaustion all the way in his bones because it’s been a long night and the bar has only just closed and-what was Hotsuma doing here anyway?
Then he remembered the look that Tachibana had given him, the slight smug smile, the way his hands had clasped underneath his jaw and his eyes squinted.
Tachibana knew he was here.
Hotsuma’s boots shuffled against loose pebbles on the ground and his hands tried to bury themselves further into the pockets of his jeans. “Well…er…” He rubbed a hand through his hair. “I don’t exactly have the money to buy that expensive champagne again so soon…so I thought maybe you’d settle for some breakfast instead?”
Shusei blinked.
“I mean, you’re hungry right? You’ve gotta eat after all.” There was a slight flush in Hotsuma’s cheeks and he wouldn’t look at him directly-no, just staring at the space beside Shusei’s head or maybe a glance down at the ground beside the black leather shoes he wore. He could feel the stickiness of spilled liquor on their soles and Shusei absently wondered if Hotsuma could see that as clearly as he must be able to read the lines of exhaustion hanging underneath his eyes.
Shusei glanced over his shoulder at the bar and it’s closed doors. It’s already so late and there are only so many hours the sun will sit in its sequestered place before it too lays down for bed and Shusei will have to rise again. He looked back at Hotsuma, at the man with the blonde hair who won’t quite meet his eyes but was willing to buy an overpriced champagne only two nights ago to meet him-a person he’d never seen except on the back of buildings and posters surrounded by gaudy neon lights.
All Shusei can think about is returning home to his impersonal apartment and curling under the covers of the blankets he knows so well, returning to the darkness encased in closed curtains and just bask it in, just forget everything that has made this night another night he doesn’t want to remember…
Hotsuma finally looked up toward him and Shusei caught sight of those golden amber eyes and the way they seemed to suck up the light and burn brighter. They really did make him think of a fire, one unable to yield to water or closed quarters, one that could rip and tear through everything. Out here, in the light of the day and no longer masked by the dim lights of the club, only then could Shusei understand how truly bright they shone. It was almost…mesmerizing.
“Okay.”
The way Hotsuma’s face lit up took Shusei by surprise-almost by as much surprise as when Hotsuma reached over and grabbed Shusei’s wrist, giving it a gentle tug as he began to lead him down the street. “I know this great little place that I go to sometimes. You’ll like it.” Shusei could see the way Hotsuma bit his lip before continuing. “Though it may not be that fancy…”
“It’s fine.” The relief was almost visible in Hotsuma’s eyes. “Ah, but you know…you don’t have to buy the most expensive champagne to see me. Any drink will get you table.”
“What?! That Tachibana-bastard said only buying that champagne would get me in. I waited outside all damn night for you.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.” Tachibana was manager of New World for a reason.
“Next time I see that bastard I’m going to…” Hotsuma’s words trailed off as if he realized his fingers had gripped Shusei’s wrist tighter in his irritation. Blinking, Hotsuma let go of his wrist and buried his hands back into the pockets of his pants, as if he didn’t know what else to do with them other than keep them out of sight and mind.
Silence filled the space between them as Hotsuma led the way down the street. It was too early for the streets to be crowded so there was plenty of space for them to meander down the sidewalks. This early in the morning there was still trash littering the ground of the usually spotless city, and they took careful steps to avoid cups and flyers that marred the cement at their feet.
Finally, Hotsuma spoke up even if his eyes never left the space in front of them. "Tell me more about yourself."
Shusei glanced at Hotsuma out of the corner of his eye. "There's nothing to tell."
"There's always something to tell." Hotsuma kicked aside an empty bottle in front of them and it clanked against the cement until it spun out into the street.
"I think we should talk about you instead. Have you always lived here, Hotsuma?"
"Shusei, don't avoid my question!"
"What do you do for a living?"
"Hey! I was…"
"Do you live in the area?"
"Shusei!" Hotsuma stopped walking and grabbed Shusei’s shoulders, forcing him to stop and look at him and stop dancing around his questions. "Don't treat me like some client paying for attention and praise. I want to know more about you so stop trying to ignore me."
A long sigh dragged out from between Shusei's lips as he reached up a hand and gingerly removed Hotsuma's hand from his shoulder. "You really don't get it do you Hotsuma?" He shook his head at Hotsuma's blank expression and walked forward, untangling himself from Hotsuma's clasp. "Let's keep walking for right now." Shusei heard the tap of Hotsuma’s boots against the pavement as he caught up with him.
"Is it some sort of rule that you can't tell me about yourself? I-don’t really know how all this host stuff works."
"Don't be ridiculous." Shusei leaned toward him, bumping their shoulders together so he could whisper into his ear as if telling a secret. "There aren’t rules like that. If I simply told you everything about me then you'd only get bored of me. Don’t you think it’s more interesting this way?" He leaned away and started to move again.
They kept walking but Shusei felt Hotsuma's eyes on him. "Shusei, now you're the one being ridiculous. I want to get to know you better. I will never get tired of you."
Shusei stared at Hotsuma, mouth open and poised to speak but before he had a chance to utter a word Hotsuma was jogging a few steps ahead to the entrance of the place he was taking them.
The place Hotsuma had chosen was a small family run restaurant. Shusei could smell the salty taste of freshly made miso soup in the air as Hotsuma slid open the shoji doors and led the way inside. They discarded their shoes near the entranceway and Hotsuma picked a table near one of the only windows in the small building. It was still early and they were the only customers aside from a single man sipping a cup of tea at a table in the far corner of the room. Shusei tucked his legs underneath the small table, wondering when he had last eaten at a traditional Japanese restaurant like this.
“What do you like to eat?”
Shusei leaned his elbow on the table, his chin resting in his open palm. “I’m not really that hungry.”
“Are you just going to sit there and watch me eat then?”
“Wouldn’t that be more entertaining?”
Hotsuma grumbled underneath his breath, but it was harmless grumbling-one that was betrayed by the way his hands fumbled to call over the waiter and he hurried to order food for them both. He didn’t look at Shusei again, not until he seemed to collect himself and could meet Shusei’s waiting gaze once again.
“Do you…always do that…?”
“Hm?”
“Talk like that…like there’s more to what you’re saying.” When Shusei was silent Hotsuma kept talking, maybe nervously rambling, unable to stop his voice from speaking. “When you say those things-“
Shusei reached out his hand to grasp Hotsuma’s on the other side of the table. They hadn’t touched since then, hadn’t done more than brush a shoulder against each other-and Shusei was almost surprised to feel not the slightest bit of a tremble in Hotsuma’s hand. If anything, if there was anything at all, it seemed too steady. It was so peculiar, when Hotsuma seemed so easily overcome by his advances.
“-you say those things but you don’t mean them, do you?”
Shusei‘s hand stopped, he blinked, suddenly unable to move.
“There’s a distance in you. I don’t really know that much about hosts-is that normal? Or is this just some sorta lie?”
Ah…this was why he was here. This was why he was pacing in front of the bar, waiting for him to finally leave. This was why there was a kind of flustered look lurking within the depths of his eyes, an unknown gravity that was chaining him to this moment.
Shusei withdrew his hand and leaned his elbows forward on the tabletop. It could all end here so simply. Hotsuma was here because he felt something last night, because there was something that drove his curiosity, made him believe there might actually be a future in the foundations they had laid with one another.
They all always thought this way.
Every woman, every single one of them, always thought they had a future with him. They stayed because they believed it, bought drink after drink for weeks, months, sometimes even years-simply because they believed in the words he whispered into their ears, promises he never kept, the future he would never have with them.
Shusei knew what he was supposed to say at this point. He’d encountered this moment on so many occasions that it usually happened with such fluid ease-the words he had to say, the way he would bend the truth to make them understand exactly what he meant.
It was just a few words-a few words that could end this charade he had developed with Hotsuma, could forever cast him aside and return him to the normalcy of his regular nights, his regular clients. Or he could say them, string him along and keep this going. There was no way to say how long it would continue-because it always eventually ended when the women realized how little truth there ever had been to his words-but it would continue at least, for a little while.
“Hotsuma.“ His eyes looked too hopefully, so brimming with possibility that it made Shusei wonder if Hotsuma even recognized how much he had fallen. “I…”
Shusei, now you're the one being ridiculous. I want to get to know you better. I will never get tired of you.
Hotsuma’s words replayed in his head, stopping his thoughts, stopping everything.
I told you I wanted to see you again.
He tried to continue, this time another way. “It’s wrong to think…” Shusei’s body began to move before he even realized it. Panic, it ignited his animalistic instincts. He had to get out of this situation, he was feeling suffocated. His movements, already far too loud in the deserted restaurant, made him feel even more aware of the warning he felt deep in his gut. What was this feeling…this hesitation? He couldn’t say the words. He couldn’t tell Hotsuma that this was all really…
His lips felt dry. “This was a bad idea-“
Hotsuma stopped him-stopped his voice and the world from spinning with the grip of tightened fingertips clasping around the delicate and slender curves of his wrist.
“Don’t go.” The grip felt desperate, clinging to this moment and his skin.
Shusei sighed, a long breath of air that passed between his pursed lips and gave him a moment to just think as he looked down at Hotsuma. The other man was staring at the top of the table, not looking at him, not willing to bridge the gap in this situation either. He couldn’t say the words-but Hotsuma said them for him with his actions, with his don’t go that said all the things the women always meant when their fingers touched his shoulder or their body pressed against his.
Don’t go. That was what they all wanted-they didn’t want him to go to the next person, to leave them alone, to make them feel a pit of loneliness in the depths of their stomach-but he always would go. Going meant they would come back, order another drink, offer anything that would bring him back into their clutches. Women thought they came to host bars for men to give them affection, but really they came to run after that attention with orders of drinks and expensive seats.
This was something Shusei understood-something he could handle. The panic of a moment slowly slithered away into the distant corners of his mind as Shusei sat back down and Hotsuma let go of his wrist.
The waiter brought their breakfast, setting down the plates between them as silence hung heavy in the air, as tangible as clouds right before a thunderstorm. Hotsuma still didn’t look up, not even when Shusei sighed and reached for a pair of chopsticks. “Aren’t you going to eat?”
Hotsuma ignored him. “It wasn’t like I wanted to offend you-“
“You just don’t know what is real and what is fake?” Shusei offered, finishing for him.
“What do you think Hotsuma?” Shusei reached across the table, using the tips of his chopsticks to push Hotsuma’s chin upwards so that they were finally looking at one another. “What do you think is a lie?”
It was clear Hotsuma wasn’t going to answer so Shusei pressed further. “What brought you here in the first place?”
Hotsuma looked up. “What are you talking about?”
“I think you know.”
“You said you were mine…” There’s a pause, long enough for Hotsuma to bite back the last bit of his sentence. “…my host.”
He said that-of course he said that, he said it to every woman that came into the bar and chose him as their host. He was their host. There may be others that come and talk with them, but they would always be his as much as he was theirs.
“But is it okay…for me to want to know you as more than a host?”
Shusei looked at him, at the way his eyes seemed to widen just a bit, with just a small facet of hope and curiosity and maybe a little bit of longing.
Shusei didn’t understand it.
It was like all the other people that he met-the ones who came calling and wanting and needing his affection. Hotsuma wasn’t any different from them, not any worse for wanting to love and feel needed by another human being-but Shusei…he couldn’t understand it.
“Why?” The word slipped between his lips so softly that it was barely a whisper, but a whisper was enough for Hotsuma’s ears to catch it.
Suddenly, Hotsuma was smiling. It was like he had expected a different answer, not a question-a question that Shusei always left unanswered and unknown because it didn’t really matter, did it? Why they needed him, why they wanted his attention and his affection?
“Because you’re amazing Shusei. You…you have something I never could.”
Shusei breath held in his chest, unable to move the air in his lungs.
“Maybe it’s because I’m good-for-nothing.” Hotsuma ran a hand through his hair, ruffling the blonde strands into disarray. “I take night classes down the street even though I hate school, I have a crappy part-time job, and my roommate thinks I spend too much time playing video games instead of studying…” He paused. “But you, ever since I first saw that picture of you, I knew you were something special. You were someone special.”
Hotsuma looked up, met his gaze. “Why wouldn’t I want to get to know you?”
Shusei could do nothing but stare.
“Shusei…?”
Hotsuma-he never did or said anything Shusei expected. Even these words he said so effortlessly...they were unlike anything anyone had ever to spoken to him before. Nothing like the love that women declared, the marriages they spoke of, or the future they wanted it.
“Shusei, are you listening to me?”
Reality, slowly came back to him. “You should come again.”
“What?”
“To the bar. Another time.” A breath. “You should come.”
“You…wouldn’t mind?”
Shusei’s lips curled upward into a smile, eyes squinting. “As long as you don’t tax my body too much. I may be a host but I have my limits and men tend to be more…aggressive.”
“Shu-Shusei I wouldn’t-I mean-“
He tried-he really did, but the rumble of laughter that rolled up from the pit of his stomach could not be contained-not when Hotsuma was looking at him with that flustered expression and hands practically waving through the air. He was so tired but that laughter-that giving away to all the stress and the worries and for once not thinking about his client but just being-it was impossible to resist. When he laughed Hotsuma looked at him like he was really seeing him for the first time. The soft lines around Hotsuma's face became more gentle, more giving and accepting, even if he was being teased and strung along by Shusei's joke.
It wasn't until the laughter finally died away and Shusei was brushing tears from the corners of his eyes that he realized that he hadn't once tried being the perfect host-that there were no whispered promises, no overt attempts at affection-just the two of them, being themselves amongst the lies they had woven without really acting on them or acknowledging them. They sat together knowing they had been brought together because of what each person was; what Hotsuma had wanted and needed, what Shusei could provide-and it was so easily stripped away that Shusei hadn't even noticed the affect Hotsuma had on him, how everything had just...slipped away.
As Shusei stared across the table at Hotsuma, watching as the other man picked up his chopsticks and started to devour the food in front of them, only then did Shusei realize how his chest ached.
When had he let Hotsuma infect him? Take him over and grab everything from him?
Hotsuma looked up with a bowl of rice at his lips and chopsticks buried in the tiny white grains. "Eat, Shusei, you already look too thin."
Shusei blinked, pausing only a moment before picking up his own chopsticks and doing exactly as Hotsuma said.
+ + + +
When Shusei finally returned to his apartment he slowly closed the front door. The door closed with a heavy click as a wave of hushed silence fell over him, the noises from outside no longer permeating through the halls and his thoughts. He closed his eyes, finally able to think, to process the thoughts that washed over him the moment he had the space to breathe.
Before saying goodbye he had stood in front of the restaurant with Hotsuma, the early morning sun now heating up the sky and the streets beginning to fill. It was then that Hotsuma had kissed him. It had been a sudden action, one filled with bursting hesitancy in the moments before Hotsuma leaned forward and pressed their lips together. He had felt one of Hotsuma's arms slip along his lower back, holding him in place, keeping him steady. It lasted only a moment-just a quick brush of lip against lip before Hotsuma stepped back and looked away, a little flustered but eyes also brimming with those amber flames that seemed to soak up the sun. Shusei could still feel the salty taste of miso soup on his lips.
“I’ll…um…come see you again soon.” Hotsuma had said, teetering back and forth on the heels of his shoes like a nervous teenager afraid of rejection.
"If you want," had brushed off his lips as delicate as a whisper. He would have said that to any other woman-even though this time the words came rushing out between his lips far quicker than he meant to say them, with far too much hope that Hotsuma might actually return again.
Hotsuma. He was completely unlike any other person he had known before, a complexity he didn’t quite understand but felt drawn to nonetheless.
Shusei turned around, pressing his back against the solid frame of the front door and slid down to its foundation. He grabbed the fabric of his shirt, bunching it up in a clenched fist as he tried to ease the rapid beat of his heart.
The feeling that gripped his chest was so foreign and invasive that he wanted nothing more than to get it out of his body-but with each second that ticked by each pronounced ache in his chest only caused a dull throb in the back of his head. It made him feel uncertain...unstable.
You’re amazing Shusei. You…you have something I never could. Why wouldn’t I want to get to know you?
Those words were as dangerous as the person who spoke them.
How could Hotsuma not realize…? Shusei wasn’t the one that shone-it was him.
It was all him.