Written originally on August 2014.
Warning: Major Character Death, possibly angst. I know this is the least-favorite theme anyone would ever wanna read, but please give it a tryJ
Disclaimer: I do not own the Finder Series.
It was a weird morning. Almost felt like a vivid dream. The lord of all crimelords woke up slowly but surely on his California kingbed, scanning the whole dark room that he was occupying. Everything seemed fine; everything seemed perfect, except one thing. One thing that had drilled a hole into his life. A deep hole that he himself couldn't see the bottom of. One thing that was once brighter than any stars in the universe, was once more important than any diamonds that ever existed. But now that the lights had died out, and that one thing was the death of the mighty crime lord.
He couldn't believe it himself. He? Being attached to someone? People would bet their whole life on it. A crime lord was destined to has no emotion, no feeling, so that every single person who dares enough to stand against him, won't find any weakness that could bring him down. Won't find that one hole that could be his death hole.
He laughed at himself. His chest was burning, but not from that rich golden liquid that he usually drinks every night, it was an ache. Heh, that drink. When was the last time he drink it? In the past he would drink it every single night when he got back to his penthouse. There was no presence in there since he stepped into the threshold. He would open his large fridge, and grab a bottle of those drinks. Unhealthy drinks. But since when did he care about his health? In fact, he smokes.
Smoking was like one love of his life. He loved to smoke especially in his darkest times, when everything didn't go as planned and went to chaos. He never listened to anyone who dares to stop him from smoking. No, no one even dared. His life was plain, black and white. People would come and go anyway, so he didn't care. Men desire his power while women desire his prosperity. Everything was fake.
There was no excitement, no challenge in his life. Because he could get whatever whenever he wants. No one would ever cross his path; they would always walk behind him.
Until one day, God has sent one of his lambs.
He remembered that day so well. The memory itself was perfectly carved – deep – in his mind.
The scene of that blonde hair that shimmered under the moonlight as the owner ran gracefully on the hard pavement as the cool breeze brushed against his silky-smooth skin ever so slowly. It was so beautiful, almost looked like an antique painting that was hung in a historical museum. Until, another scene of several goons in black that chased after him came into the stage and ruined the whole picture.
Even though the situation was supposed to make the blond lose his mind, he never did. In fact, he laughed and smiled cheekily the entire time he was chased down. His slender legs kept on running for more than any normal person could handle, but there wasn't any single ragged breath that escaped his cold lips. His eyes wide, his cheeks stained with the humanly red blush as he exhaled his breath away into white little puffs and continued running down the streets as to lose his chasers.
It was honestly fun, like chasing a wild animal. It was actually a challenge also, to think you have to tame down that wild animal. And what made it more interesting was the fact that this animal was one of a kind; barks, but also bites.
In the end, both met, in the worst first impression ever.
But after several weird events that followed after their first encounter, that high-spirited boy happened to live under the same roof as the crime lord. Strangely, the crime lord didn't mind at all, even if the boy had caused him so much trouble.
"Asami!", that boy would always call out his name and his voice would rang throughout the penthouse. The crime lord would always chuckle by the boy's behavior.
Takaba Akihito was his name. 23 years old, and a freelance photographer on top of that. And he, himself is the Asami Ryuichi, 35 years old, and a great crime lord of the underworld of Japan.
At first, it only felt like plain fucks for both of them. However, life started playing with them.
The daily fucks changed into 'making love'. It was not a matter about one person anymore, it was a matter for the both of them. It wasn't one-sided anymore. Asami of course was the one who 'taught' Akihito so many things he hadn't ever known until then, and even though Asami was already pleased with the many expressions Akihito showed him during one of their intimate course, Akihito would sometimes cooperate with his needs. Thus, the mutual relations started occurring between them.
They gradually got addicted to each other, and the times they spent together in each other's presence passed in a fast pace. No one of them would realize that it had been years since they were together. Eating together on the dining table had also become a habit. A habit that Asami didn't know had gotten into him. The amount of liquor that he consumed had also decreased drastically. The large fridge looked so small thanks to the food that Akihito bought every Sunday. Asami was rarely seen with his cigarette. The house suddenly became livelier than before. And the guest room that's located not too far from the master bedroom would always fill with that brat aura, which somehow brightened the atmosphere in the whole threshold.
Everything seemed so perfect that he didn't even realize that it was all a dream. A dream about wanting something impossible to happen in real life. Asami found himself comfortable in his current life, with his boy sleeping next to him every night and curled up against him. The longing feeling overwhelmed his awareness, blinding him to the bitter truth about the kind of life he had been living all this time even before he met the bright boy. The crime lord didn't even spare a second of his life to think about the boy's safety.
Until now.
And it's already too late.
Too late for him to consider.
His eyes wandered to the plain white sheets that spread widely beside him. This sure was a California kingbed, but this was no single bed. It was meant for two people. It was once meant for two people.
He touched it softly and somehow a mirage figure of his cute boy curling in his sleep appeared before him. He couldn't hold in an ache that screamed out from his chest. It was more painful than any bullet that he had taken in the past. The excruciating pain that was impaled deep in his heart. The agony.
He stepped his foot on the soft plush carpet floor and made his way towards the kitchen. Opening up his fridge, he found it larger than usual, wider than usual. It was filled with liquor, so many bottles of the branded ones.
He grabbed one and drank it straight from the bottle.
The expensive liquid immediately hit him straight in the nerve system, supposedly making him calmer and more relaxed than his previous shape.
But the more he drank, the more his vision started to blur; his muscles started to give up on him until he gripped on the kitchen counter and supported his body onto it.
He's broken, and he knows it.
He lifted his gaze, staring up at the darkened ceiling above him as the night kept on rolling forward. His heart started pacing up, his mind swam somewhere far.
That was the first time that he ever loved someone more than his Dunhills. That was the first time that he ever felt so happy and alive without his Bourbon. That was the first time that he was in a game that he couldn't win.
Someone above mercilessly pulled that person, pulled out the game cable so that he couldn't play it again. He couldn't finish the game.
He leaned against the counter and rubbed his temple. The bitter memories of that night came washing over him like thunder storm.
Again, the image popped in his mind like the previous night's horror movie. Replaying over and over again in his brain like a fast-paced movie.
The scene opened up to the sight of his beautiful boy figure, lying lifelessly on top of his bed. His eyelids closed sharp and the eyelashes kissed his pale-looking skin lovingly. Everything looked so perfect – everything about him always seemed to be perfect in fact; he really was flawless from head to toe.
And the image of that bruising bullet hole came into the crime lord's mind.
The hole that was oozed by so much red crimson blood, tainted the white sheets and the pale skin of Akihito's.
He recalled himself walking to his boy's side, knelt, and braced himself to witness what was ahead of him. The copper smell of the blood came clear to his nostrils as his eyes burnt from the pain that was sent directly into his eyes by the lifeless person before him. That once energetic boy became a person without soul, became a dead meat.
He hugged the boy close, inhaling so much scent of the boy that once gave him so many things to learn, so much things to handle. His emotions flowed that instant, but as always, he didn't let a single tear escape his eyes.
But deep down, he cried. He cried his fucking sense off. Begging to any gods or angels to bring him back, bring him back to his embrace so he could try once again to do what he was supposed to do. To protect his light, to protect his Akihito.
And even though the people who dared to take what's his was already taken care of, the pain had become an agony that he himself couldn't get rid of.
The agony that left nothing but memories. Memories that he couldn't burn away from his mind.
His hands remembered his skin; his skin remembered his clumsy touches and embarrassed kisses; his lips remembered how plump Akihito's lips was, how delicious it was, how addicting it was; his eyes remembered how lovely and magnificent Akihito was, how he had successfully made Akihito his one and only masterpiece.
The Asami Ryuichi now isn't the Asami Ryuichi then. He isn't the man that fearlessly toss aside every single soul that crossed paths with him. He isn't the man that would put himself first before everyone else's.
His Akihito had changed him, touched him not only on the skin but also on the heart.
He has become a man with heart.
He has become a man with emotion.
With Akihito he could see the light, but now, he somehow couldn't.
He's blind, with darkness surrounding him and haunting him down to his slumber.
But it didn't matter to him anymore. He's the king of darkness. He isn't scared of the dark.
The good thing is, he isn't scared of the light either.
Because every morning the sun shines brightly up in the sky, his boy would smiles at him. Greets him good morning, until he leaves the penthouse and gets to work. Wishes him good night and kisses him in his sleep. From high above he would do so. From high above.