Yuki took his usual seat beside the cafe window, his usual coffee in hand. Here was where he often sought refuge, a place that had a pristine view of the busy intersection and all its people pattering about their business. This was a place where his innermost thoughts could escape, and his ice-cold facade could, if just for a while, be cast aside. Here, he was just another face behind a window.
Reclining and bringing the savoury aroma closer for a whiff, one person popped into his mind. This had been happening a lot recently. Whether it was the physical intrusion into his private space, or the persistent call for attention in his mind, this person was proving to be quite a nuisance. A nuisance to his peace, to the Yuki Eiri that he had always known himself to be, and it threatened the solace that kept him sane.
This nuisance however, refused to detach itself no matter what he tried to say. Yuki did not like his personal space disturbed, but as he realised before at this very spot, he had come to look forward to these 'distractions'.
His eyes glinted with indecent thoughts, and the corner of his mouth turned up into the slightest smile. Quite the welcome distraction indeed.
Reluctantly, his logical mind told him that work had been progressing well of late. While there had been an uncharacteristic change toward optimism, his writing muse had been overflowing with inspiration. His emotional side, the one he kept well-hidden away from the world, relented that this 'disturbance' was becoming more of an addiction.
With a dismissive grunt, Yuki cast his eyes out the window. Passers-by, people walking their pets, groups of students, couples... His eyes narrowed; there was the subject of his distraction - Shindo Shuichi, a handsome boy of teenage perfection. Breaking his train of indulgent thoughts was an attractive lady hanging onto the boy's arm. Yuki liked to believe that he didn't care what his Shuichi did outside of his apartment. The girl was leaning very much of herself into Shuichi, and just then, she pulled his hand around her waist.
Put off but curious, he continued to watch as the girl tried to gain his attention. Only Shuichi's back was visible, but he could see clearly enough as the girl pouted, teased, and wriggled herself deeper into his arms.
Yuki coughed; his coffee tasted bitter. Tearing his eyes away from the couple, he told himself it was none of his business. Shuichi was dependent on him – not the other way around. The boy was his toy.
A sudden movement caught his attention – the girl had thrown herself at the dark-haired boy. Yuki could only see the back of his head, but the girl's teary face was in clear sight. Disgusted, he turned away. Just who did this girl think she was? He didn't need to look to know what happened next; her cry echoed through the intersection and the surrounding sidewalks, "Shuichi! Please don't leave me!"
A crumpled dollar note, his patience run thin, Yuki was out of the cafe doors and heading out of earshot. His steps did not take him fast enough as her desperate plea rang in his ears, "but Shuichi, you love me don't you?" echoed through his soul.
The door slammed shut, and Yuki strode straight to the bar counter in his living room. Picking out a heavy liquor, he pointedly ignored the shot glass sitting within reach. He could find no reason why he suddenly needed a strong drink, or even why a long draught from his favourite liquor could not rid him of this maddening, agonising feeling in his chest. Even worse, his head throbbed with an anger he could find no grounds for.
Spinning around, he pinned the couch with an accusing stare. "'Don't leave me?' Who does this pushover of a bitch think she is?" He could almost see Shuichi's sleeping form on the couch, his placid innocence tugging at long-forgotten emotions. "Just who is she to you?" he whispered, hair falling over his eyes. His hand ran through hair that was already moistened with perspiration. He's not yours...
Seething with anger, Yuki gulped down mouthfuls from the bottle. The burning sensation chasing down his throat reminded him of fire. The orange glow of the fireplace as it danced over Shuichi's face. The fire in his eyes as he struggled vainly against Yuki's own iron grip. That same fire that blazed to life whenever he sang... which simmered with a glow so captivating whenever they were close.
The fire he saw in Shuichi's eyes burned in his heart; perhaps it was just the alcohol - Yuki didn't care anymore. Now that he had started it, memories of Shuichi's submission to him, right there on the couch, unravelled like a film before his mind's eye. The boy's naive surprise, his shy touch, that faint shadow of fear and anticipation peering back at him... and yet, his hug had the strength of a bear.
Bears, Yuki pondered, were strong... and soft.
His mind barrelled on into a place full of things he didn't want to remember. The past he had left behind began to creep up on him, and it seemed to swallow him whole. Sliding onto the floor with a mist quickly descending on his thoughts, Yuki began to drown in a sea of emotions long forgotten.
Once, a long time ago, he was dependant on someone he loved. Once, many years past, he had been betrayed.
His world had crumbled, and there was only emptiness and despair everywhere he looked. Loss, he concluded, was inevitable. He learned to build walls so that he could be safe inside. He would never have to rely on anyone ever again. Dependant, as a word, no longer existed in his vocabulary.
The last drops of alcohol rolled onto Yuki's lips, needy for escape. He would never feel that way again. Shuichi was his to tease, play and toss aside. Never. Again. The taste of salt entered his mouth; it took a moment for him to realise that it was a teardrop. How many years has it been?
The empty bottle slipped from his hand and rolled across the floor. Yuki was finding his head a little too heavy -suddenly the rug seemed so very inviting. Lying down with his back against the couch, Shuichi's eyes were the last thing he remembered.
Click. The lock slipped into place.
Shuichi leaned against the door, tired and emotionally strained. Breaking up had turned out unexpectedly difficult. He hadn't thought she'd be one to kick up such a fuss, and it had taken everything he could think of to finally shake her.
Frankly, he had stood just as shocked as everyone else when she suddenly latched onto him at the intersection and broke out in amplified sobs. Caught completely by surprise, her prior clingy attitude now seemed more forgivable compared that dramatic outburst.
He wanted nothing more than to see Yuki again. It didn't matter if he was working, sleeping, or in a bad mood; he just knew that setting his eyes on his Yuki would make it all bearable.
An empty bottle lay just in sight, lying in the shadows of the living room. The curtains must have been drawn, he knew he liked it dark and gloomy. Troubling though, was how the bottle was lying on its side, in the middle of nowhere. His Yuki was a meticulous man, and he would never have an empty bottle simply lying around.
Worried, Shuichi stepped into the gloom of the living room. A sick feeling rose in his stomach as he spotted the prostrate form of his lover on the floor. A quick glance told him that the man had finished an entire bottle of liquor, and that it was not in celebration or jest - he couldn't help the pang in his chest. What could it be? Shuichi was hurt that Yuki wouldn't tell him something so important, but then again, Yuki never told him anything. Even asleep, he looked as distant as ever.
A mixture of feelings swam in Shuichi's head as he sat himself beside the sleeping form. Relief, knowing that his lover was merely asleep, the bittersweet taste of knowing that he loved without certainty of being loved back, and most of all, the urge to protect this man.
He cradled Yuki's head in his arms, and with forlorn gentleness shifted himself to become his lover's pillow. His head secure and comfortable in his lap, Shuichi resolved to protect him with everything he had. Through jest, sex, or plain persistence, he would give it all if he could just get his lover to take him seriously.
A tear escaped and ran renegade down his cheek. Yuki was his.
An aching head woke Yuki from his dreams. Vaguely, an image of a certain bear lingered. An irritated frown maimed his features as he tried to make sense of the broken pieces of his dreams. "Bears, alcohol, and fire. What the hell."
He opened his eyes and found himself, quite comfortably, in Shuichi's lap. The boy's eyes were a solemn glow, staring down at him. Yuki didn't know what to feel. It was usually the other way around.
His body wanted to bury himself deeper into his warmth, but right then the boy's intensity was making him feel bare and somewhat... vulnerable. That forbidden feeling.
A curtain of ice slid over his eyes as he struggled to get up. His reluctant body moved, but then it gave in against the boy's sudden forcefulness. Shuichi's hand firmly pressed down on his torso, even as the other remained gently tangled in Yuki's hair. He found himself smothered under the fire of his gaze. "You're not telling me something," it was a statement.
Crazy boy, why should I tell you? Yuki had a wall that kept him safe. And looking straight into the flames that were his addiction, he could feel his walls crumbling. Yuki was afraid.
He broke off the stare and tried to get up. Again he was forced down – a caress turned his head back, and he could see his lover's frown. Crazy boy, you're just my toy. He couldn't tear his eyes away anymore.
"Don't fuck with me," was all Yuki could muster. It was more than the comfort of Shuichi's lap that kept him in place now. That fire... was wet. Shuichi's eyes had tears in them. What now, crazy boy? What is it you want from me?
"It's okay if you don't wanna tell me. But if you want," the boy sniffed, "I'm here." The tears threatened to overflow, and he wiped them away like the child that he was. Clearly he wanted to say more, but those were all the words that came out. His eyes, as usual, betrayed him, and the pleading look swimming in all those tears would have melted any living person's heart.
What kinda crazy person doesn't want anything? He wondered if Shuichi might have an ulterior motive, but knew better than to second guess the most naive idiot he had ever met. With a sigh, the man gave in, "whatever." He sounded more willing than he wanted to. Relaxing back into the boy's warmth, comfy, was the brief consent. Painful nostalgia drifted into his thoughts, and it was all he could do to keep his face straight. It was hard to remember the feeling of betrayal and loss while looking into a gaze so earnest, but Yuki couldn't help it; it hurt too much. He would die if it happened again.
As if on cue, Shuichi ran his hand through soft, blond hair. He did not smile like he usually did, for all the liberty Yuki was allowing him. It was as if he knew. The strength and gentleness of a bear, Yuki thought, and a spirit that burns like fire. The light in the darkness that was his life, and the warmth and comfort that he so desperately needed – but would never ask for. What a story, Yuki decided, as he leaned into peacefulness. Maybe, he allowed, I can trust this boy.
He remembered the girl that had made him so angry, and her desperate pleas. He was once like her. I don't want to be like her.
Shuichi is mine. Yuki closed his eyes and eased his body completely into his lover's embrace. "I'm here," he hears Shuichi's voice, a vessel of comfort, warmth, and other special things that didn't need a name. The old Yuki was shed. If being dependent feels like this... it's not too bad.
Shuichi is mine, sleep takes over. And I'm his toy.