Satoshi Hiwatari inhaled deeply, wishing he was home in a warm bed, rather than out here on a cold night. Yet, another tiring day of school and work. Satoshi wasn't sure how much longer he could maintain his hectic schedule. Every day he felt more exhausted than the next. Maybe he just needed a break, a short vacation to get rid of any stress.
Twelve minutes later, his residence came into view, the front porch light illuminating a small black ball of fur he knew to be his cat. Satoshi recognized a red Corvette that was his father's. He wouldn't be home, out with coworkers at some dive bar somewhere, probably not returning until late. Satoshi didn't care.
"Goddamit." Satoshi swore underneath his breath as his foot stumbled over a foreign object. Turning to confront whatever had assaulted his sense of balance, he gasped in realization of a stark naked, unconscious adolescent as being the perpetrator. Satoshi knelt cautiously beside the body, placing two nimble fingers on the boy's neck. There was a pulse, subtle and slow, but there all the same. Satoshi analyzed the body meticulously, steel-blue eyes wide with awe.
His entire body was riddled with bruises and… bite marks. Violet serpentine ribbons twisted around the body loosely, as if someone wrapped him unenthusiastically. The colorful material sharply contrasted with the boy's crimson hair, its spikey tufts pointing haphazardly in every direction. It was obvious this boy was just dumped and abandoned on the trash heap that supported his weight. Why would anyone abandon this kid? I can't leave him here. Satoshi half-heartedly debated whether to admit this kid into a hospital, or let him rest at his home. Either way, his scruples wouldn't allow him to walk away; not with a clean conscience anyway.
Satoshi heaved a sigh and gazed at the mass that slept soundlessly under the sheets. He was heavier than he appeared. Satoshi had bothered to dress the poor boy in some old pajamas that adorned tiny multicolored trains his Machiavellian father had bought for him last Christmas. Satoshi took them reluctantly, grumbling a "Thanks", wondering if his father realized he wasn't a child anymore. Surprisingly, they looked better on this boy than they did on him, much to his satisfaction.
For the thousandth time, Satoshi was relieved by his father's absence. Their relationship made him conjure up a suspect that was under the constant, suspicious eye of a private investigator; every interrogation disguised as "harmless" questions, every argument pretending to be a "debate", every greeting really another obscured meaning. They could never have a normal father/son relationship, its possibility completely vanquished. Satoshi had quit concerning himself with such trivial matters years ago.
"Ah…" Satoshi flinched, snapped out of his reminiscing by a low murmur coming from the sleeping mass. He is really cute. Satoshi noticed as he inched closer, the red haired boy's dainty but succulent lips, so enticing. I wonder how many girls have kissed those lips. His skin, a creamy-white, was smooth and pleasant to the stroke. As he leaned in further, their mouths almost touching, the sweet aroma of flowers and chocolate wafted gently into his nostrils, tickling them. If he didn't know any better, he'd think it was a life-sized china doll he'd been venerating.
Satoshi drew back as the unknown figure began to squirm and groan. He's waking up… Well, it's about time. The red haired boy sat upright and rubbed the weary haze from his eyes. Satoshi was taken aback, unprepared to look into the equally crimson eyes that stared straight at him. He watched as the boy blinked his eyes a few more times, as if he was unsure whether he was awake or still asleep. He examined his surroundings with bemused interest.
"Um, w-who are you? Where is this place?"
"My name is Satoshi Hiwatari. And you're in my house. I brought you here to rest after I saved you from being part of the trash. I have some questions to ask you… but I guess I should ask your name first, before I get ahead of myself."
"It's Daisuke. Daisuke Niwa," said the red head. Satoshi narrowed his eyes in deep thought. Daisuke Niwa… Why do I feel like I've heard that name somewhere before? Satoshi gasped and his steel-blue eyes lit up, a sudden recollection whizzing through his mind at lightening speed. It was all over the papers and news channels: a young boy named Daisuke, age sixteen, had gone missing for three months. There was no evidence, not even the slightest idea as to who took him or where'd he disappeared. Though, the Niwa family would pay a handsome reward of $500,000 to anyone for his return. It just so happened that Daisuke was also one of Satoshi's classmates. Where had he been for three months? What exactly happened during that time period? And with whom? Satoshi remembered the bruises and bite marks.
"What were you doing in the trash? Who put you there?"
"I, I don't know," Daisuke said, placing a hand on his pulsating temple. A headache was starting to develop. Satoshi ambled over to the bathroom and produced two Tylenol pills and a glass of cold water, which Daisuke gulped down graciously. His throat felt dehydrated and on fire.
"Do you remember anything at all?" asked Satoshi, feeling Daisuke's forehead. He has a fever. Daisuke's entire body shook, the cold and heat battling for dominance. Daisuke's attempts to recall his whereabouts during the previous three months were nothing but monochrome blurs and iridescent flashes. He felt dizzy, the threat of fainting looming even nearer.
"I… I don't feel so well…," he muttered.
"I know. You have a fever. You should rest some more," Satoshi demanded, drawing the blankets above Daisuke's chest. He nodded in acceptance as Daisuke thanked him, and waited until he fell asleep before closing the bedroom door behind him.
Night had fallen upon them. Stars, the natural beacons of light, glimmered in the sky. They were so beautiful. There was something about natural beauty that was so captivating. And to think one of those things of beauty happened to be the red haired boy that occupied his bed.
Satoshi leaned against the sink counter in the kitchen, gradually drinking a glass of chocolate milk, pondering what he felt should've been a simple decision. He didn't want to be involved anymore than what he already was, but that expression… those distant and pleading red eyes. Satoshi couldn't just leave him like that. He no longer cared about what happened or where he had been, only his sudden, unyielding desire to protect Daisuke. And whatever menace would dare threaten their peace, he'd obliterate it.
Satoshi ran a hand through his smoky-blue hair and exhaled sharply. I don't know why I'm being so protective of him, all of a sudden. I just met him. But then… does it really matter? As he sauntered towards the stairs to check on his guest, the familiar click of a drunken man trying to unlock the front door resonated to his ears. Satoshi's father came waltzing into the living room with a six-pack of beer in hand. At least he didn't have a mysterious woman clinging to his chest this time. When that happened the partying usually wouldn't end until 4pm the next morning. And his father would once again depart for work, leaving Satoshi to clean up his mess. He was sick and tired of his predictable behavior.
"Satoshi… Hey there, son. You're still up?"
"Ah, yeah." At least he doesn't seem that drunk.
"How'd your day go?" he asked, tripping over Dark's food bowl, sending cat food pellets spilling onto the carpet. He swore under his breath and languorously ambled up the stairs, discarding shoes and articles of clothing Satoshi knew were meant for the dirty laundry. Sighing, he followed distantly behind his father. Even from that distance, the aroma of women's perfume and strong alcohol drifted in his nostrils, burning.
"It's fine," replied Satoshi. "Uh, Father… a friend of mine is staying over for the night."
"Is that so?" asked his father, diving onto the bed. He scratched the lower half of his exposed stomach and belched in response. Satoshi grimaced, scrunching his nose in disgust at his father's blunt, inappropriate manners. How the hell did I end up with a man like this?
"Yeah. Did you want to meet him?" Satoshi asked, already knowing the answer. His father was hardly interested in his social life or his life in general for that matter.
His father raised a hand idly and muttered a "Maybe later," asking Satoshi to close the door on his way out. He obeyed without protest, and gratefully retired to his room to check on Daisuke. He was still sound asleep, his snores calm and almost inaudible. Satoshi didn't bother changing into sleep wear, too exhausted, and slipped off his shoes and climbed next to Daisuke. Blackness took over as he drifted into blissful unconsciousness.