In the not too distant future, everything went to hell.
That wasn't even an opinion that was divided, the air and water thick with pollution and the face masks that used to be worn were exchanged for oxygen tanks and gas masks. The world grew sick, and as the clouds above turned a noxious black, people started to drop like flies.
There was a wide-spread epidemic of organ failures, demand far outweighing the supply, and there were many casualties. Those with the most money, and the most power, got priority. That was the way of the world after all, and the ones at the top would always win, no matter what; maybe that was how even the air turned poisonous.
Still, two lonely boys torn from their parents by this horrific tragedy had no hope; not with them both being too young, and Kaoru much too sick. It'd almost given Hikaru a heart attack when his younger brother collapsed, clutching at his abdomen in pain, but it wasn't like they could even hope to be seen without the money to pay for it. Soon, Kaoru could end up like the bodies that lay in the road until the correct authority could clean them up, the stink always seeming to linger in the city streets. He couldn't accept that.
Instead, Kaoru lay in their shared bed, sweating through his pyjamas, as Hikaru went out, trying to save his brother. The thing was, when these things happen, submarkets bud and grow. The hospitals weren't helping? Well, if there were buyers, you would attract all kinds of sellers.
He was only a kid, but as he cut open some corpse's chest cavity, its still, cold blood staining his hands, there was an odd sense of righteous calm that overtook him. It was a feeling of need, of this has to be done. He knew what it could do to people, but he didn't care; they weren't Kaoru. He hung around back alleys, sold organs and his own blood, whatever he could get his hands on. He had nightmares, but with his pocket full of money to take Kaoru to a bleeding heart of a back-alley doctor; the sickly boy slung over his shoulder.
"It's his pancreas," Akira had said, his far-too-stoic son perched next to him in case they tried to run off without paying, "He's going to need a transplant, I'm afraid. I… I shouldn't do this, but the Ootori company have just brought out organ financing… You boys are too young for it now without parents, but I can use my name and –"
"Dad…" The other boy warned, giving Hikaru a foul look that made him shrink back in his seat. Still, his mind ticked over his options. Organ financing, it didn't sit well with him, especially with Morinozuka-san's offer; some instinct told him a flat no, and in his experience, it was best to listen.
"What if I get it?" He asked, an edge of desperation in his voice, "Then… You could do something, right? I just… I can't… But I can get you organs, I promise. Kaoru can't die!"
It was a reluctant agreement, but still. He had to try and get a perfectly healthy pancreas, and that was easier said than done. He swore that the smell of gore and sinew was burned into his sinuses, but when Akira helped Kaoru up so they could both go home, his brother recovering but healthy, it was all worth it.
Hikaru huffed, pulling his duffel bag higher on his shoulder. It was bad enough that he had to see Kyoya fucking Ootori in person, without seeing his glossy picture on the cover of trashy magazines, pulling the collar of his shirt down and showing off that long, jagged scar down his chest with a seductive look someone like him just shouldn't do. That new, designer heart was only supposed to save his life, but it seemed everyone was talking about it like it was done for their twisted sense of being beautiful inside and out.
He just wanted to get home, because even after years of this, he supposed he just looked fucking suspicious to people. He supposed he just had that sort of face, not that he was going to do anything about it like the Ootori bastard. After all, there was a reason why he always seems to slink back to Kaoru, and Hikaru just knew his little brother was being taken advantage of. Besides, anyway you looked at it, you couldn't call the relationship healthy.
Speaking of, the last thing Hikaru wanted to hear as he stepped passed the woodworm-marked doorway was those fucking moans accompanied with the sound of rusty bed springs. He was going to kill him one of these days, he really was – but for now, his jaw and teeth clenched tightly as he almost threw the duffle bag down on the dusty sofa.
If he weren't already tired and pissed, he probably would've just gone out again, not wanting to subject himself to hearing his own brother fuck his "boyfriend" into the mattress. However, he'd had a long night, and he just wanted to relax in his own god damn house.
He hammered on the thin wall between the living area and the bedroom he and his brother shared, a growl working its way into his words. "Put your clothes back on, both of you!" He huffed, face like thunder, "I'm sure your lovely heart would fetch a lot Kyoya, so don't fucking push it!"
He went to the small fridge in their tiny "kitchen" – said fridge and a microwave – and grabbed some expensive looking bubbly that Kyoya had obviously brought. He supposed there were some benefits to putting up with him. That, and Kaoru's happiness, when they weren't fighting about some little blue vials. The top cracked open with that satisfying sound that told him he was the first to get to it, and he just chugged straight from the bottle.
That basically summed up his feelings about the last few hours.
"Wow, what crawled up your ass and died?" Kaoru commented dryly as he entered the room, giving him a disapproving look, "We were having fun; there's bars elsewhere if you just wanted to get shitfaced –"
"That cost money we can't afford to give, not in this shithole," Hikaru challenged, passing the bottle to his brother, who took a more respectable swig, "I just want to be able to come home and not hear the sound of you two shooting your goo, can you blame me?"
"Aren't you classy," Kaoru sighed, running a hand through his mussed hair, "I just like enjoying the time we get to spend together, and I didn't hear you come in. Thought you were supposed to be out until eleven, anyway?"
"Well, your boyfriend's father decided that I'd look better with some bullet holes," He waved off, "It was too dangerous to stay around there, so I thought I'd cut it short. Speaking of, is his majesty going to grace a commoner like me with his presence, or is he too high to walk straight?"
"He's not that bad, and you know it," Kaoru cut in before he could say anything else, mouth pulled in a thin line as he looked away. A little close to the nerve, too insensitive, and it drew an apology from Hikaru. After all, he didn't want to hurt Kaoru, quite the opposite; he was just mad at Kyoya, really, "He's just, you know… Cleaning up."
"Ew," He grimaced, never wanting that image to come to mind ever again.
They both did manage to settle down after that, however; Hikaru always was calmer around his brother. It wasn't great that he'd have to deal with the spoiled brat, but he could handle it without killing the guy… For now. Instead, he and Kaoru just spent a few minutes chatting about what had gone down in the last few hours, passing the bottle between them and laughing at Yoshio Ootori's security guards.
"Getting drunk without me?" Came a silky voice from the doorway, Kyoya's plastic perfect lips quirked in a smile as he crossed the small room, throwing his arms around Kaoru's shoulders and pressing a kiss to his cheek, "And I was so nice to bring you a bottle of the good stuff."
"And yet you didn't even bother to get dressed properly," Hikaru groused, giving Kyoya's outfit a pointed glance. The shorts were far too short, showing off fishnets held up with garter belts and far too much skin for his tastes. It's not like the shirt was particularly conservative either, unbuttoned enough to show off that damn scar for all to see.
"I am dressed," Kyoya huffed, "I have to look good, you know what my position in the Ootori group is, and my clothes reflect that. Not that you'd know anything about that."
Hikaru wrinkled his nose at Kyoya's obviously disgusted motion to his coat. Sure, it wasn't fashionable, and it offended his own sense of taste, but it was practical and did the job. What did it matter if it was patched with odd bits of fabric and he couldn't really remember what had made all those stains. Okay, the jacket was bad, but he wasn't going to take that from him.
"Well, at least I don't look like you could hang a sign around my neck saying daddy's little hooker," He quipped, delighting in the fact that Mr Cool had actually raised a hand to slap him, and would have if Kaoru hadn't caught his wrist just in time.
"Will you two lay off," Kaoru sighed, sounding far too tired, letting go of Kyoya's wrist and scrubbing a hand over his eyes, "I just wanted a nice evening before I had to go out, not watching you both fight. Bury the fucking hatchet for an hour, Jesus…"
"Sorry Kaoru," Kyoya apologised first, Hikaru grunting something similar. The taller boy's gaze was on the floor momentarily, and Hikaru was surprised to see him look so… openly regretful. It was then that he opened his mouth once more, and whatever slight respect had budded was soon cut down, "I better go, you know my surgeons don't like waiting…"
He tottered over to the duffle bag on the sofa, unzipping it and removing a glowing, blue vial from inside. Hikaru scoffed, teeth gritting when he saw Kaoru's concerned look. "You just helping yourself now?" He challenged, "What do you even have to change anyway? You're basically all plastic as it is."
"Hikaru…"
"For your information, I'm getting my corneas done," Kyoya informed, voice lilting and actually somewhat civil, twirling the vial of Zydrate between his fingers, "Besides, I paid for this earlier, right Kaoru?"
"Yeah, I heard you paying for it."
"With money, jackass," Kyoya snapped, giving Kaoru a quick kiss before turning to leave, hips swaying as he walked like some catwalk model. Really, who did that guy think he is? After all, Kyoya's big dream wasn't taking over the company or anything, but being a singer; like Blind Ranka. Still, he strutted about like he owned the place, which just annoyed the hell out of Hikaru.
"See you later, Kaoru. I love you…"
And with that, the bastard was gone. They sat in silence for a moment, Kaoru's fingers drumming on the side of the glass bottle before he sighed, standing up and picking up their other duffle bag from beside their fridge.
"Well, there's no point sticking around, I might as well go out now," Kaoru shrugged, shouldering the bag and grabbing his own shitty coat from the rack, "Don't wait up."