***Mistakes are fixed, I hope. (I'm so thankful for the Replace button…) I added a little as well. I hope that's fair compensation. ^^;
I must thank PyroTheWereCat, for pointing out the mistake~ (THAT COULD HAVE BEEN FATAL.)
What I think…would happen if Kanou bought Ayase; but didn't love him. =\
(Knowing my guessing skills—it wouldn't happen. If Kanou didn't love him, he wouldn't have bought him in the first place, yes? He would have no reason to be at that place. If I remember correctly he walked in at the last minute because Ayase was there. So… In this story, Kanou just bought him for the heck of it from whomever would have bought him in the first place.)
DO NOT OWN OKANE GA NAI.
Warning: No lemon in this chapter, but it[…Ayase] makes [accidental] references with chopsticks. An emo Ayase. D:
Word Count without A/N(s): 1,940
The blonde stood shakily next to the man, his heart pounding. The huge brown-haired brute owned him—and proved it. Sex anytime he wanted…not that he'd let anyone know that. The blonde was never compliant—in fact, he hated every second of the time their bodies were in contact. That contact usually meant throbbing and a near inability to walk in the morning.
"Kuba, your brother is coming with me. Stay here." Kanou stood easily, tossing a disgusted warning glance at the boy beside the chair before leaving the room with the air of a pissed off king.
The blonde lowered his gaze, to see that tears had formed in his eyes, blurring his vision. That revolted look the man had given him hurt more than all the names he used. It just screamed 'prostitute', and the sharp eyes gave the word a whip-like sting.
"Uh…" Homare looked away from the now sobbing boy. Well, yeah, the boss could be kind of harsh…but, jeez, people have to man up if they're living in this kind of world. But…the frail body was more girlish than most girls nowadays—his emotional guard must not be that strong, either. And the way he trembled was pitiful. Legs were locked; using each other as a brace as to not fall, and the boy was in such distress that he let out little screams.
"I-it's my fault…!" He had yelled, finally letting his legs give out. He collapsed onto the ground to cry into his wrists.
Homare felt his stomach churn. Weak, weak, weak, weak, weak…But…so cute. Why was a guy so adorable!? The man ran a hand through his hair, the sounds of the weeping quieting until they were hushed, but ragged, breaths.
"My fault," He chanted to himself, standing slowly. He'll go even out the score. Being such a burden to other people…something had to be done.
Homare grabbed the blonde's wrist as he tried to wiggle out through the doorway he occupied. "…Where're you going?"
"Just to the bathroom." Soft lips formed the almost inaudible word. Within the dark space between his lips, Homare could see his tongue flicker.
The man instantly let go and looked off to the side. "Go on."
The blonde lowered his gaze again, before heading off towards the bathroom within the building.
His eyes were…weird, Homare found himself thinking. His subconscious mind had seen those dull eyes. 'Windows to the soul' is what the organ for seeing was called. If that was true, then Ayase's windows had been fogged over, denying anyone from seeing any trace of happiness in him. All that somehow got through were the things pressed up against the glass.
Which happened to be sorrow, agony, and loneliness. That hollow look that remained worried Homare.
A crashing sound made the man refocus in the real world. What the hell was that? Kanou and Misao are gone—job—and this building is closed. Could it be that the boy had done it?
The single Kuba twin rushed into the bathroom, to see the mirror shattered and the blonde sitting on the floor in a bed of glass.
"What are you doing!?" He saw the cuts on his palms, going down to his wrists. Man, he worked quick.
Sad eyes looked up at him, somehow showing more life than before. Maybe it was pain that caused it?
"Get over here," Homare demanded, carefully grabbing the boy's wrist. The blonde let out a breathy yelp as he stepped on some glass. "Dammit! Why would you even do that!?"
The man wrapped his arm around the boy's waist, lifting him up and slinging him over his shoulder. Off to the First-Aid kit.
After rinsing out wounds and making sure no more glass was in the confines of skin, Homare wrapped up the cuts.
"Hungry?" He asked as he finished up with the bandages. He tossed them aside carelessly, and instantly corrected himself, picking it up and putting back inside the white box.
The little blonde nodded slowly, the emotions he gave off were that of a bunny's. He was scared witless but endearing nonetheless.
"Well, c'mon." Homare loyally carried the shivering blonde to the extra car and set him in the passenger's seat, buckling him in. As he closed the door and walked to the driver's side, he asked himself, What am I doing?
He drove off to a clothing store first—to stare to two shirts with a distraught look on his face as the blonde leaned against him for support. The impatient boy ended up grabbing the long-sleeved turtle-neck and wincing as his wounds hissed at the movement.
Ignoring the weird stares they got, Homare paid for the clothing articles and dragged the limping weight along with him. He heard quiet mumbles and assumed the blonde was just complaining about 'hurt'.
"Why'd you buy these?" He asked as Homare repeated the earlier action of setting the boy in the car. "Your son?"
Homare felt a little pang—ouch.—and shook his head. "Not married." He wiggled his fingers to boast no ring. "I bought them for you; because you aren't going out to a restaurant looking like you decided to wash the dishes with glass."
The blonde stared down at the shirt he had unknowingly picked out. It wasn't at all matching his skin color—yeah, the orange-like color did give him an autumn-y look, but it was winter, and dark out(no light blue to calm the color). So dark that the sky engulfed the stars and clouds. All that was left was the cold air sweeping across the Earth's surface and dancing through its trees.
The boy sighed as Homare started up the car. He looked over at him questioningly before pulling out of the spot he had parked.
As the man drove away, the person next to him started to strip, quickly covering up with the turtle neck and the baggy pants. Both were too big.
Poor boy, Homare thought. He hadn't said anything about the bruises on the malleable skin, due to the fact it was obvious where he had gotten them. Neither of them wanted to talk about something along those lines.
Homare pulled up to an expensive restaurant—once again hearing quite murmurings from the boy. This time he listened.
"Why're you being so nice? You don't have to do anything…I'm not wanted anywhere, anyway…I'm just a burden…"
Homare had flicked his head, catching the boy's surprised attention. "Enough. Putting yourself down isn't going to fix anything."
They were lead to a room with those doors made out of wood and paper—dragons and lagoons decorated both the inside and outside. The blonde sat at the small table, on the little cushion while Homare stood for a moment. He sat when someone walked in.
They—well, more like he. Homare ordered nothing—ordered quickly, sitting across from each other and never making eye contact.
The boy ate the food quickly, his nose red from crying and from the warmth of the ramen. The chicken covered on a cherry red sauce was devoured as well. Who would've known that little boy could eat so much?
A sniffling sound snapped Homare back to attention. "Hm?" He saw the blonde crying again. "Wh-what's wrong!?"
The blonde whined, "It's so sweet and well-made…"
Homare sighed, shaking his head. "…I never did get your name."
"Ayase. Yukiya Ayase. You are Kuba Homare, I know." The blonde poked at the last piece of chicken with the chopsticks he insisted on using. He loved them, even though his hands started to ache when using them for a while. He stared down at the goo-like sauce and licked it away from the tips with a skilled tongue.
Homare gulped, forcing himself to stop watching by staring at the condensation running down the edge of Ayase's glass of water.
"Well…nice to meet you." Ayase said, popping the piece of chicken into his mouth slowly, absent-mindedly. He then stirred together some white rice and that sauce. He smiled slightly at the now pink rice in front of him. "Want some?"
The blonde attempted to pick up the rice with his chopsticks, failed, then gave in and used one of those soup spoons. He held out the spoon with the rice, a hand cupped under it just in case (even though all the grains were securely with the spoon's hold).
Homare leaned in without thinking, allowing himself to be fed by the gentle Ayase. The man wrinkled his nose somewhat at how sweet it was, but nodded as if he liked it. After Homare swallowed the food, they both blinked in surprise.
Did they really just…?
Ayase tensed up, frozen, and Homare grabbed the plate of rice and shoveled it into his mouth, grumbling nervously about 'being able to feed himself' while doing so.
He succeeded in choking and then chugging Ayase's drink, slamming it down on the table with a gasp, the whole while the blonde buzzed around him, mumbled his high-pitched apologies.
What a nice way to start a relationship.
---
Homare glanced around, cautiously, before putting his car in park and turning his shoulder so he was facing Ayase.
"I'm supposed to be gone…But you should be fine, just say you were in the bathroom or something." He advised, unable to untie the knot of worry that grew within his stomach.
Ayase was staring out the window, looking a little uncomfortable. Despite that, he nodded. He reached for the door and tugged at it.
After a moment, he looked back at Homare, looking utterly confused.
"Ahm…How do I…?" The blonde whispered quietly, averting his eyes again.
Homare opened his mouth, unknowingly allowing a chuckle to escape.
Ayase's expression changed to humiliated shock, as he focused on the man again. "D-don't laugh at me!"
Homare waved his hand, trying to dismiss the laughter, gave up, and then grabbed the handle on his side, opening his own door. The blonde quickly turned and shoved his door open, stumbling out with a little gasp.
"Are you okay?" He managed to say, little hiccups of laughter escaping between the words.
"I'm fine!" The blonde looked on the verge of tears—in fact, as milliseconds passed, the salty liquid accumulated, brimming over.
The man slipped out of the car, taking huge strides over to the weeping blonde. He hesitated, wondering what he should do. Hug? Well, that's certainly what he wanted to do. He wanted to wrap his arms around the delicate little bundle of emotions, and squeeze just tight enough to make all the sadness seep away.
Oddly enough, even with that desire to shield him from the shame and hurt in the world, his muscles wouldn't move. He could just stand here, his arms suspended as if there was a force stopping them from enveloping the boy protectively.
When Ayase quieted, he settled into a detached façade, looking void of emotion.
"I'm…going back." He said in a hushed voice, turning and making his way back to the building that harbored the probably confused and frustrated man named Kanou.
Homare stood, still no able to react fully, even when the small blonde disappeared within the confines of the unforgiving. A sick feeling of dread peaking his awareness. He waited.
Waited for Ayase to come running out, crying and screaming for help. To sprint into his open arms, and cling to him.
But nothing happened.
He walked back to his side of the car, and allowed a fleeting look over his shoulder. Still no blonde.
Heaving a sigh, he slipped into the car, putting it back into gear and pressing down on the pedal.
This story is kinda dedicated to Onige-a, as well whoever reviews~
Note: I only know those restaurants things from the stuff we have… IN AMERICA. So, yeah~ I know the paper's name…but I can't remember it at the moment. And I'm an idiot, so I refuse to go look it up. Maybe next time?~ c=