A/N: It has been seven years since I've played around in fanfiction, the last of which being the Viewfinder fandom. Having taken such a long break to focus on my career, I'm at a point now where I've got a bit of time to dabble in this stuff once more. I did manage to keep the dust off by doing some original fiction here and there in the interim, but wrapping my head around other authors/artists' characters takes a bit of getting used to again. So, to dip my toe into the water, I'm going to re-post a story I wrote seven years ago in the Finder fandom. Back then, only one volume had been released, if I recall, so that's where this really short scene takes place. I vaguely remember this being written in response to a LJ prompt with the theme of 'Learning/Teaching' written within a maximum time limit of 60-minute.
Also, if you were around back then and this looks familiar, I had originally posted this on LJ and on a private archive under a different pseudonym. I'm hoping to keep that pseudonym dormant (as I feel a little guilty for not finishing up some stories I left hanging), so I'd appreciate it if it might be kept that way.
Thank you, and happy reading!
Cheers,
G.
(***)
Lies My Mother Told Me
"Always tell the truth," his mother used to say. "Always tell the truth. It makes the world a better place, but more importantly, it forces you to be honest with yourself."
Takaba's lips curved upward at the lesson his mother had drilled into him since youth. Her teachings had served him well, and he was happy with the man he'd become.
Still, it was unfortunate that not the same could be said for everyone.
As he walked the remaining distance to his apartment door, his hand unconsciously touched his camera case. Sobering, he quickly replayed the events he'd caught on his memory card just several hours ago.
It had been a long stake-out, tired eyes and even more tired muscles straining to stay alert the whole day he'd lain concealed in that warehouse loft. But his hard work and determination had yielded the very results he'd wanted.
He'd heard that Terakura Isumu was a good man. After all, as CEO of a major corporation that ostentatiously donated millions to various charities throughout Japan, the press had made him out to be a generous philanthropist. Yet, appearances could be deceiving, and as Takaba had discovered earlier that night, the man was involved in something much more sinister than writing a cheque to a children's hospital. What exactly, he still needed to figure out, but given time, his camera would dig through the lies Terakura had created.
Keys slipping easily into his apartment lock, the young photographer closed his eyes and let out a tired sigh. It had definitely been an exhausting - albeit rewarding - day, and he wanted nothing more than to take a quick shower and curl up in bed. But the moment he turned his key and met no resistance in the locking mechanism, his eyes popped open, and his heart skipped a beat.
Shit! Had someone seen him? Had someone recognized and followed him?
Sweat started to bead on his forehead and his pulse began to pound in his ears as adrenalin tensed his muscles.
'Leave or stay?' his panicked mind asked. 'Leave or stay?'
Common sense dictated that he should leave, turn around and walk to the nearest police station. But then again, he'd never been one to run, and the impulsive side of him told him to stay, daring him and egging him to find out if some bastard had broken into his apartment to give him a 'warning'.
Normal people would've listened to common sense. Normal people would've taken the safer option and walked away alive. But he was Takaba Akihito, and he thought of himself as anything but normal.
The impulsive side won.
After placing his camera case down by the doorframe, he grasped the knob with a shaking hand. The tension in his body had escalated to the point where a high-pitched ring now sounded in his ears. But he paid it no mind. Resolved, he turned the knob and walked in, eyes wide open.
Of all the scenarios his overactive mind could come up with, it somehow forgot to include the one he stumbled into ... for no sooner had he walked through the door when a set of piercing eyes froze him on the spot.
"A-Asami," he stuttered, brief surprise flittering across his face before his habitual mask of anger took over. "What are you doing here? How the hell did you get in?"
The imposing man didn't answer. He simply walked toward the stunned photographer, all predatory elegance in a perfectly tailored suit. "Close the door."
It was an order, not a request, and although Takaba instinctively wanted to defy the words, his body had a different agenda: he turned, grabbed his camera from the floor, and closed the door. The resulting click had an ominous echo to it, and instantly, he regretted his obedient action.
Setting his camera down again, he moved to face Asami once more, irritation causing a scathing retort to dance on his tongue. "Look, if you think you can just barge in here and ..."
He never finished.
With a speed that had undoubtedly saved him countless times, the deadly yakuza leader was on him, lips crushing against his in a flurry of power and need.
Takaba's arms moved up to push his attacker away, but instead, his fingers latched onto the fine material of Asami's shirt. He felt the eager nips of the other man's teeth, and as much as he tried to resist, he returned every action with one of his own. He could feel himself quickly getting erect, and the need to get out of his constricting jeans became overwhelming.
And just like that, Asami pulled away, his breathing heavy, and his eyes glowing with an unfathomable light. "You never disappoint. Always as eager as your first time."
Takaba glared back. "You fucking bastard," he gasped, lust and fury battling for control in his voice. "You raped me that first time!"
To this, the corner of Asami's mouth quirked up into a small smirk, one of the few expressions the young photographer had ever seen on that unreadable face. "It's not considered rape if both parties consent," the older man stated.
Takaba ground his teeth together, and unknowingly, his fists tightened on Asami's shirt. "Liar!"
A dark eyebrow rose. "Liar? On the contrary, I have never lied to you. I have withheld the truth occasionally, but I have never lied ... which may explain why you seem infatuated with me."
The younger man's eyes narrowed, his hackles rising. "You conceited asshole! I don't even like you," he hissed. "In fact, I despise you! I would never be infatuated with you. I can barely even stand you!"
Takaba stopped when the man standing before him flashed him a warning look. And in an instant, his lips were captured again in a cruel and punishing kiss. There were no longer any angry words spoken, only the muted moans of two lovers ... and the faraway whisper of a lesson taught long ago.
"Always tell the truth, Akihito. Always tell the truth. It makes the world a better place, but more importantly, it forces you to be honest with yourself ..."
End