Akihito had barely turned off the light when his heart made a sudden beat that worried him. It was this, a sort of instinct, that scared him the most. It really shouldn't scare someone, the feeling that something is not right, just off, and then they could fix or realize whatever it was that they had to. No, Takaba hated his instincts. They led to unwanted memories, to painful moments in his life that he'd rather forget.
Still, what harm could be done with an innocent flick of the light and a double take?
Akihito relented at his curiosity and turned quietly, flicking on the light switch and turned around, surveying his small living room and kitchen. There didn't seem to be anything wrong per say, but Akihito had known by experience that appearances were deceiving. With careful, slow steps the photographer managed his way to the restroom and finally his bedroom. There wasn't much to look at since his arrival from Hong Kong, and after living with Kou for a month and then Asami for another six, Akihito moved away to another corner of the town and rented his own flat. Life had started to regain its old pace, from the time before Hong Kong to even earlier.
It seemed as if Asami had simply disappeared from his life all together.
Akihito can't help the pang of hurt in his chest at the thought. Things had gone so well since they had returned, hand in hand from Fei Long's clutches. Akihito shook his head from continuing his current train of thoughts. He had a job to do soon so whatever that he had to fix up would have to happen soon. Akihito rummages through his things before finding a small mobile phone on his cabinet, the screen alight with the message of three missed calls. Akihito swears under his breath and spins around, knocking something hard with his elbow on the wall. He turns quickly and his breath hitches, hazel eyes widening slightly. The digital camera sways back and forth on the wall, hanging by the wrist band that is held up by a nail.
It's only in objects like this that Asami seems to be real, as if he isn't only a memory. The man exists, and so did everything that happened.
Akihito rolls his eyes and turns away, a faint blush on his cheeks as memories begin to flood his mind. His eyes blur with a slight sheen of tears but no, he won't allow himself to cry. With nothing left to stop him, Akihito closes the door and walks away from his current residence. The air outside is brisk and cool, making him shudder into his tight slate sweater. The weather won't be able to prevent the photographer from completing his job. Besides, it's early now, only late evening, and his job would probably progress into lower temperatures.
He walked faster now, his legs warming up as the blood began to pump faster. Maybe now would be a nice time to relax a little more, perhaps let his mind flow freely. With a deep breath and a tip of his head Akihito felt his shoulders fall a little, his walls fell for a little moment.
He would be lying if he said he didn't miss the yakuza.
Akihito's steps continue despite his lack of forethought. It didn't matter if he had walked into something now, his thoughts were completely wrapped up with Asami.
"He saves me, protects me countless times, forces me to move in with him and then- just lets me go. I thought I had figured out what you meant to me. I thought I knew what I meant to you." Akihito thinks, closing his eyes. He didn't know what had gone wrong. Still, no matter what he felt for the Yakuza, Asami had made it clear what he had thought about the photographer. There was nothing left to say after that, nothing he could do.
It hurt unbearably.
Asami had his pride. The man was like the epitome of pride and wealth, of sin and sex and-
"It'd probably for the best to end that thought there" Akihito's features scrunch up as he quickly changes his thoughts. With a final turn at the corner Akihito finds his companion for the night already waiting for him. Mitarai, the other photographer that had held up the magazine Akihito had been working for before he had been kidnapped, stood in a coat and dark jeans against the wall of an apartment complex, his brown hair tied back in a small ponytail with the test of his unkept hair framing his scowling face.
"You take to damn long." He says curtly, nodding his head in a greeting. Akihito had been working with the grumpy photographer since his return and was used to the attitude by then.
"You're too early." Akihito grins. There it is, the typical bickering that is soothing, natural to him. Mitarai only scoffs, the beginings of a smirk forming on his lips.
"Shut up and let's go."
The train ride is long and uncomfortable. Despite the hour's slow passing it seems somehow it's gone from evening to night, the ticker sign aligning the train's metal framework continues to tick and glow through the darkness of the flickering light. The name of the district they're entering keeps flashing, along with the time. Akihito always hated trains; they were long rides, stuffy and cramped full of people. Why stick to such an annoying form of transportation when one could take a taxi or just run?
The train, as if sensing Akihito's ill thoughts, comes to a jerky stop no where near a station. The other three passengers in the car turn to one another, a single question visible in their moon-washed features.
"We apologize but it has come to our attention that something is blocking the tracks. We will stop here for a moment to clear the tracks, so bear with us for a moment." A patient, clearly mechanical voice booms out through abused speakers. With a light groan Akihito slouches in his seat and closes his eyes. He can hear Mitarai curse beside him and the rustling of clothes until silence returns once more.
"Please, Asami. I need to know... what am I to you?" Akihito asks in a low, quivering voice. "You said you love that I deny, but what if I want you? Would you hate me then, simply toss me aside and ignore my existence?" The silence of the moment is as unnerving as the questions that keep bubbling in his mind. "God dammit Asami! What worth do I have to you? Who am I to you!"
"Hey, Akihito!" Mitarai growls, shaking the photographer from his reverie. He pauses and stares as Akihito turns to face him.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I was a little out of it." Akihito clarifies, but the look of shock and awe and sadness doesn't leave Mitarai's face. Instead it only seems to grow. "What's u-" Then he feels it. The steady stream of tears that had stared falling god-knows-when but they did, and he's left with a look of shock on his face as he wipes frantically at his tears. "Shit, I'm sorry about that, I-"
"You're an idiot, you know that?" Mitarai mutters as he embraces the photographer. There are no terse feelings in the embrace, Akihito thinks with a relaxed sigh. Just a friend trying to comfort the only way he can. It's relaxing, soothing and Akihito allows himself the moment of comfort before the hug is broken.
"It's not a bad thing, you know?" Mitarai starts, siting back in his seat. "To rely on a friend or buddy or something. Everyone deserves a moment of weakness, right?" Mitarai stares expectantly at the photographer. "Besides, you've looked really down for the past couple of weeks. It's a real bummer going to do stupid, dangerous things with you when you're not all peppy and cracked out." Here Mitarai laughs and Akihito finds a smile on his lips.
Akihito wants to reply but just as he finds the voice to do so, the train lurches forward and the two are pushed into their seats. Akihito grunts and then turns to his companion with a sad smile. Why couldn't he have fallen for someone else? Someone like Mitarai would have been better than Asami-someone with insight that is brash, yes, but kind as well and open. Akihito sighs and turns out the window. Their stop is coming soon and it'll be time to work.
Asami turns and reaches for his whiskey, grabbing the crystalline cup with an aching arm. While the bronze liquid dances down his throat his eyes scan the documents before him with a blank, lifeless golden gaze. He puts the cup down and drops his pen with a light clack and stretches his straining back and stiff arms. The office is bright but dull, missing an element that makes it brighter. The Yakuza closes his eyes and breathes in slowly, a form of self meditation-or self-torture, he can't recall anymore- that stops him from doing what he wants most.
His hand itches with the need to pick up the phone and give out the orders his heart yearns to give.
"Bring me the boy"
Only Akihito hates him now. Asami knows it. He saw it in the boy's eyes that night, along with the insurable pain and grief. Even if the boy may, per chance , want to see Asami, the yakuza won't go. it's not that he doesn't want to go, he just can't bear to hurt the photographer to such a degree once more.
He doesn't think he could live through losing the boy one more time again.
So instead he sits in his office until he can barely open his eyes, torturing himself daily with bottles of whiskey and stacks of paper work. Anything that can keep his mind from straying and his heart from mourning will do for Asami. The usually slicked back hair is already untidy, his coat discarded behind his chair and his tie loose over a slightly unbuttoned white blazer. His usually meticulous image is completely thrown to the wind now, and though not completely destroyed, the yakuza knows he is a mess.
If only there was a way to take back his words...
"Asami-sama?" Kirishima asks through the receiver. Asami is startled as he holds the phone. "I'm a fool."
"It's nothing, Kirishima." Asami hangs up before he can reply. "I'm a fool, Akihito. You deserve better." Asami thinks bitterly. He downs the last of his drink before putting on his coat and grabbing his phone. He calls for Suoh and the man instinctively knows the orders.
Bring the car. Take them home.
"You are worthless." It's biting and vile, but words already spoken cannot be taken back. Asami knows the sting of his words, the pain they can inflict. It was thoughtless and not what he meant to say, but the words had simply spilled from his mouth. It is far too late to reclaim what the moment had called for, what he really meant to say.
There's a tense silence that stretches on longer that it should. It's palpable, suffocating and smoldering. Asami couldn't warrant such an effect. The silence was unnerving; he expected anger, sadness-anything, but the silence was odd. Asami gave into the burning temptation and spoke up for his photographer:
"Taka-"
"No." Akihito curtly cuts off, waving his hand before him. the photographer is leaning against the wall, his legs quivering slightly as his muscles fight to hold him up at such an odd angle."Don't say another word. I understand." Akihito whispers. Asami can hardly stand the sight. Akihito keeps his head lowered, and Asami moves forward to touch his photographer. Asami's hand reached forward to grab a hold of the boy when Akihito looked up, surprised hazel eyes quickly turned to hide from Asami's ever watchful gaze. It was too late; Asami had seen the tears and pain and the hurt.
The pang of anguish that followed shocked Asami.
"I'm gonna go." Akihito said quietly, already by the door. He reached for the handle and pushed it open, and then the photographer slid through the door into the darkness of the night. Asami stood, shocked. He should have stopped Akihito. He should have clarified what he meant to say, what he wanted to say but it was too late.
he had driven Akihito away.
"Where is the kid right now?" Suoh asked Kirishima, making sure the Yakuza boss was no where in sight yet.
"He's with his reporter friend and the ditzy one Fei-Long held captive by the Yukon district, going for a drink. They finished a stakeout about ten minutes ago." Kirishima said, the static making his notations almost inaudible. Suoh hung up and turned just as Asami walked to the sleek black car. Suoh opened the door then went to the driver's seat and started the engine.
"Where is he?" Asami asked, a nightly ritual for Suoh.
"At a bar with friends." Suoh retold, starting on their drive home.
"Hn." too tired and numbed the Yakuza simply nodded, waiting out the drive home.
"Do you have any idea what you have done to me, Akihito? Look at me. I'm a mess. When did you ever gain this much leverage over me?" Asami thought bitterly. "You kept returning to my side after everything. Please, Akihito, my cute photographer. Return one more time. Listen to what I have to say."
Suoh knew the look on his boss' face. He was thinking about the boy once more. He had heard from Kirishima, who had actually become quite close to the photographer, about what happened. They both knew that their boss had lied since to anyone it was obvious that the Yakuza had been deathly afraid of losing the boy. When they lived together their boss was happier than ever and now, after having lost him, it was almost as unbearable to watch as when Takaba was in Hong Kong.
Only when he was in Hong Kong Asami was wounded with bullets. This time he was inflicting the pain himself.
Asami got out of the car and made it to the hotel entrance with slow, thoughtful steps. It seemed his mind and body were separate at the time being and the Yakuza numbly pressed the button for the penthouse before being jerked from his thoughts by the elevator.
He didn't go back to the apartment anymore.
He waited patiently as the elevator trekked the 36 floors and tapped a cigarette from his box before lighting it up. The sweet nicotine filled his lungs and brought a temporary solace from his thoughts before he left the lift and entered the penthouse. Snuffing out the cig before entering the bedroom Asami sighed and discarded his clothes on the way to the private restroom for a much deserved shower before heading off to bed.
Akihito looked up at the ceiling of Kou's apartment. It was decided that, after three beers, four cups of whiskey and a tequila shot battle against Mitarai, the two would stay over at the friend's apartment. As Akihito drunkenly murmured about a heartless bastard with tears in his eyes Kou had finally poked and prodded enough to make Akihito slur out the entire story from the most intimate, embarrassing details to the darker, most private of thoughts. After he had revealed every last thing down to the last fight, Akihito let out a curse and the floodgates opened and refused to shut as the photographer sobbed away his sorrows. The two were silent meanwhile, and after calming down after a few minutes Kou had spoken up with a foreign sense of wisdom.
"From what you've said it seems like he didn't really want to say, well, that. He's been alone practically his whole life, being back-stabbed and left behind and everything. Didn't he throw that away to save you all those times?" Kou spoke while looking, dazed, at the beer bottle he held. "I mean, he saved you because he wants you. He says mean, daunting things so that your spirit isn't crushed by the dark, inhumane things you've seen."
It seemed so right. Had he really overreacted? 'No' His mind said. 'There is a limit' but his traitorous heart spoke out against his mind.
'He wanted to protect you.' His heart stated.
'From who, exactly?' His mind rebutted
'Himself.'
Asami cautiously opened the door and walked out, his demeanor cold but within his body his heart and mind battled. Had he really done good? Was this truly for the best? It was impossible to tell, but he hoped he had done what was right. If anything, if the boy never returned to that apartment, then so be it. But it he entered and saw what Asami had left, then it would be okay. It wouldn't have been a waste.
If he returns, then he will know the truth. But if he doesn't then so be it, he'll stay far away and be safe.
Asami couldn't keep the bitterness out of his tone as he asked Suoh to take them to Club Sion.
Akihito woke up with a throbbing head and a sense of wrongness that wouldn't shake off. He turned ans saw that both Kou and Mitarai weren't asleep anymore. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he attempted to stand up.
"Yo, Aki'," Kou stated, helping his friend. "We're taking you somewhere." He said mysteriously, a smile spreading on his lips. Mitarai shrugged as Kou began to lead the photographer away.
"Where are we going?"
"Somewhere we think will help you."
It was a ten minute ride in a taxi that smelled like sweat, cigarettes and cheap perfume that made Akihito dimly aware of his surroundings. Trying to stave off the hangover of the century proved to be more attention worthy than the trees and scenery and-
-wait a minute.
They couldn't be.
A quick look at Kou's mischievous smirk made everything as clear as day. Akihito gawked and felt as if he had been cheated. He turned out the window, crossed his arms across his chest and pouted like an angry toddler. Kou laughed and smacked his friend in the shoulder, earning a punch in the arm.
"About time you figured it out!"
...
The apartment had been the same as when he had left it that night. The door was closed and all around them was an air of desolate loneliness. The door was all that split him form the memory.
And Maybe Asami himself.
Taking the key from out his pocket, Akihito sighed. Could he really do this? And what would he do if he saw Asami? Shaking his head Akihito insterted the key and unlocked the door. He turned the knob and pushed the door open. The darkness from the main room proved that the residency hadn't been occupied.
Akihito walked inside and his two friends followed close behind, marveling at the grand room.
Akihito left them to wander as he expertly made his way into the master bedroom. One of the lights were on, the only sign that someone had been there, and Akihito felt a pang of instinct as he reached the mahogany desk with the pen, paper and light.
"I cannot steal the light from you, Takaba. My life is in the darkness, and if being with me will taint your purity, then stay in the light. I do not want to take the innocence of your heart as well. This is all I can give you, a life free of the bad I have given you.
-Asami"
Akihito knew what that meant. Rereading the small note over and over, Akihito flipped it for more writing but found only two faces staring back at him, smiling. A memory resurfaced and Akihito's will strengthened.
He knew where he would be heading.
Kirishima felt the phone in his pocket vibrate and then pulled it out. He read the name and quickly excused himself from his boss' office with a soft mutter of an apology. He couldn't believe it for true, and thought that maybe it was a prank or something. A few seconds and the vibrations stopped, only to pick up once more with the same name.
"Takaba." Kirishima stated, unsure.
"Where's Asami right now?" The voice on the other end of the line spoke quickly. Kirishima almost felt a smile pulling at his lips as he sighed in relief.
"We are at Club Sion. Go through the Alley, I will let you in."
It was what he could do for his boss.
It was what he knew was right.
Akihito ran through the streets before seeing Kirishima waiting for him beside the club, waiting patiently by the door. Akihito stopped too catch his breath and Kirishima waited, no words spoken or terse hello's. They both knew what had to be done. Finally, Kirishima moved aside and Akihito squeezed through the space between Kirishima and the doorway.
"In his private office" Kirishima called out and Akihito laughed and raised a hand, giving a quick wave in assent.
The photographer jumped the steps two at a time and then walked down the hall, halting at the third door to his right.
Was he prepared to do this? would he take back Asami and be happy, or would Asami not even care?
With a shake of his head, Akihito looked back at the photo in his hand. He knew he would have to do this, one way or another. With that thought in mind, he inhaled sharply and opened the door.
Both were surprised to see the other.
Asami's golden eyes widened and he nearly dropped his cup of brandy. He stared at the photographer with sheer surprise and a wave of relief, and lust, washed through him. A quick look at the object in his hand proved that, yes, the photographer had returned to the apartment, and on the same day, too. His face was the epitome of relief, but the photographer had scarcely moved since his arrival.
Akihito couldn't move. His heart thudded painfully against his chest, reminding him of the unrequited feelings, and most of all the anguish. Yet there he was. The cause of it all, looking worse for wear and tired, but the happiness shone in his eyes and the relief in his face made Akihito's pain dissolve.
"What the hell is this about?" Akihito growls, passing the threshold. He waves the picture around and then slams it on Asami's desk. His cheeks are pink with fury and Asami feels like simply taking the photographer right then and there but this is more important. They have things they must each come to terms with and it takes presidence to everything else. "You tell me I'm shit and then decide that this, this is how you decide to say goodbye? What the fuck is wrong with you!" Akihito shouts, and then he's silent, panting and on the verge of tears.
"After everything, you decide this is the best way...what the hell, Asami?" A single tear drops and Asami hates himself a little more. "We were happy, you can't lie to me about that...and I ask you-I ask..." Akihito glares and tries to stop the tears from falling but one by one they slip down anyway.
"I didn't mean that slip of the tongue." Asami finally speaks, a bit hesitant. Akihito simply stares. "Emotions are weakness in my line of life, Takaba, you should know this." Akihito nods. "I..." Asami looks at Akihito, silent.
I can't lose you again
Akihito feels heat rise in his cheeks, but he can't give in now. "Didn't you say we would descend into hell together?" Akihito whispers, moving the picture forward. Asami doesn't take his eyes off the boy. He knows what the picture is, anyway.
"Why a camera?" Akihito asks, genuinely surprised.
"Isn't that what you need the most right now?" Asami says fluidly, his voice gentle. Akihito freezes before grinning broadly, causing Asami's chest to tighten. Akihito blushes and then stares at the camera a bit more, his blush darkening considerably.
"er, hey Asami?"
"Hn?"
"C-can we t-take a picture?"
"Yes, I remember" Asami says carefully, not sure where the photographer will take the conversation. the dangerous change of emotions-from fury to sadness to calm- is a bit terrifying, to be honest.
"Well I can't leave you." Akihito says nonchalantly. "Because you've completely ruined me, so now you'll suffer the consequences." Asami can't help but smirk at the photographer's twisted logic. he stands up from his desk and slowly walks towards Akihito, his mind racing.
"Then remain by my side; never leave me." Asami whispers, and the husky tone (added with the lack of sex) makes Akihito shudder. "And I promise to never let you go." His hand grabs Akihito's wrist and his heart thuds against his chest rapidly. "You are mine"
Akihito isn't fully satisfied with Asami's response, but the elation in those words and the hot, hard body pressing against him makes thinking utterly impossible. Akihito finds himself claiming Asami's lips and closes his eyes against the shocked golden ones before him. Asami seems to come to his senses and takes charge of the kiss, slipping his tongue into the photographer's mouth and pushes him onto the desk. The cup of alcohol falls and breaks on the floor but both are too consumed in each other to notice or care.
The kiss breaks and Akihito pants, blushing with lust-clouded eyes. Asami feels himself slowly breaking and rips of Akihito's short, buttons flying everywhere. Akihito groans and glares, but the heat of the moment makes the unvoiced threat a moot point. Asami places a large hand on Akihito's chest and he swoops down to claim another kiss from the delicious lips bellow him. His hand moves slowly, leaving an agonizing trail of heat to Akihito's left nipple, pressing down and then pinching gently, followed by a light tug.
"Asami!" Akihito gasps, arching his back. His shaky hands jerkily raise up the bottom of Asami's button shirt, rubbing against his tented pants. "Nn, no p-please." Akihito hisses as one hand teases his sensitive nipple and the other delves into his pants.
"What do you want?" Asami grounds out, licking Akihito's ear. The photographer gasps as the talented tongue soon slips down his neck, around the abandoned nipple then carves a hot, slick path down the stomach before the still rubbing hand.
"Ahh god, Asa-mi please, just ahhh put it in, please" Akihito arched his back and placed his hands in Asami's hair, messing it up and tugging at it. Asami snapped at the ushered, breathless plea. He pulled at Akihito's jeans, leaving them to take off the annoying shoes before finishing the job. The briefs were no exception, and soon enough they became a part of the pile on the floor. Asami pulled off his belt, unzipped his pants and pulled out his leaking manhood.
"No holding back, understand?" Asami panted, shoving a finger in Akihito's tight entrance. A few seconds a second, then a third was added, scratching and prodding.
"Yes" came the breathless reply, Akihito's skin flushed and weeping member bobbing. Asami looked heatedly at the incredibly arousing sight and thrust in to the hilt in one jerk of his hips. Asami stayed still, holding Akihito's hips as the Photographer screamed at the intrusion. A few seconds of calm waiting and the yakuza pulled out until only the head of his incredibly hard cock remained in the excruciating heat, and then he thrust back in. The loud moan forced from Akihito's mouth gave Asami enough encouragement, and soon Akihito found himself rocking with the desk as Asami thrusts gained speed and Vigor.
It had been so long without each other's body that too soon they felt it would end. Asami smirked as he took Akihito's lips once more, the boys moans having become much too loud for his taste. With a breathy moan Akihito turned his head.
"Asa-mi I'm gonna-"
"Do it. Cum for me, my cute Akihito." Asami growled, thrusting in hard while simultaneously grabbing a hold of Akihito's straining cock and stroking with as much vigor as his thrusts. Akihito arched impossibly high, a low moan falling from his lips as his cock twitched, releasing spurts of hot cum on his chest and Asami's hand. One more thrust and the yakuza was there, too, releasing himself within Akihito's tight heat.
Akihito panted, his eyes closed and felt as Asami rested his head beside his neck, the only thing keeping him from sliding off the desk. After a few minutes Asami fixed himself up and managed to clothe the tired, sated photographer. He lifted his boy in his arms and carried him out through the Club, ignoring the pointed glances. No one spoke out, much to his pleasure, and watched as Suoh quietly opened the door for them both. Asami sat down, the boy more than half asleep on his lap, and ordered his driver to take them home.
"What am I...to you?" Akihito managed to whisper. Asami froze and looked down at barely open hazel eyes.
"You are everything. You are priceless to me."
Sorry for the errors, it's one ion the morning and i have no spell-check -_- btw this goes after the Sixth volume (read it today, total fangasm at the computer lol) and Mitarai isn't an OC he's an actual character in the 6th volume.
Edit: 3:44pm; Just fixed up spelling errors but DAMN i need a beta badly lol