Shuuhei x Akon
Mile High
Shuuhei leaned back and slammed the last of the amber bottle's contents; letting the now desensitized burn of the liquor scald his throat on the way down, making his eyes water and tear up. In his haste a few drops of the fiery liquid slipped down the wrong pipe. He banged the bottle on the expensive, black counter top and coughed and hacked with his eyes streaming until he could breathe again.
Eventually he won the battle and leaned forward, pressing his forearms into the utilitarian countertop his hands trembling slightly as he cradled the now empty bottle of . He stared past the sunny amber hue of the glass, past the windows that looked out at the skyscrapers and cramped streets of downtown, and across the ocean he could see in his mind's eye.
He and Akon had been going steady for two years and eleven months now. After Tousen had fallen from his office in 9's top office on the 50th floor, Hisagi Shuuhei had become the head of the world famous multi-media company in all but title. Those first few months after the 'accident' had been a living hell. Every section of the company from music, to movies, to novels, to magazines, to fashion and theater, everything had come under his jurisdiction and every single one had needed a guiding hand or someone to grouse to. Everyone had come to him with their problems and he had been duty bound to fix every single one of them. In the time of just a few short weeks Hisagi had developed insomnia, aggravated his manic depression and found himself acting like Tony Shaloub in Monk.
After four months of no sleep and lots of coffee, he had developed a habit of practically living in his office, coming out only for coffee breaks and meetings with executives and the press. His private life had ceased to exist, so swiftly and absolutely that it later seemed to him that perhaps he had never had one at all or that he deluded himself into thinking that work and all its so-called perks were his social life.
On the fifth month though a wrench had been thrown into his numbed world; 12, the skyscraper down a few blocks and the greatest center for science in Japan, had wanted to start a new project with 9. All the note had said was that they wanted to try and create a new magazine with 9's help about the constant discoveries and updates in 12.
The man he had met with to discuss the opening article had defied all his expectations, good and bad. Akon, leading scientist in prosthetics and nerve surgery, from his brusque and businesslike manner to the strange conical implants in his forehead and spiky coal-black hair had certainly left an impression from the moment Hisagi had walked into the room.
Neither had the time or inclination to bandy words and make small-talk, that opening article for the 12ths debut magazine had gone from brainstorm to finished product in record time. Both had walked away from the meeting with the satisfaction of a job well-done and that had been that, neither expecting to have to see the other again.
But they had, Hisagi reflected, tossing the empty bottle into the sink where several of it's brothers lay. Everytime after that they had met to create the opening and closing articles for the magazine. Apparently the head of the science division had decided that he had no time to waste for the articles that he wanted and since Akon and Hisagi had done so well before hand, why not just let that be their little project.
After several meetings progressed they became closer as colleagues and friends, each discovering something unexpected in the other that piqued their interest.
Things had continued at a measured pace until one night after a few drinks and a few admissions of truth they had had sex in the office. And not just any office, the office.
Now it was two years and eleven months since that day and Akon had been overseas in America learning about the cutting edge technology there on prosthetics. Two months with no letters, barely one phonecall, and a few characteristically dry email updates. Hisagi was literally and figuratively pulling his hair out on the other end of the connection.
In a month it would be their 3 year anniversary and Hisagi was so disconsolate and uncertain that he didn't know what to do with himself and had begun to return to his workaholic tendencies.
And now here he was, again, fuming over the lack of even an email from his lover. His cellphone vibrated in his pocket, jarring him from his brooding and pouting, rousing him enough to straighten and check the screen.
Kira's text was a welcome relief from his dark thoughts, 'Going to the club, wanna come or are you tied up in work?'
Hisagi texted back, 'No, works done 4 tonight. When?'
Kira replied, ' Great! See u at 11?'
'I'll be there'
Grinning with satisfaction he swung his legs off the stool and strode into his room. After hunting for fifteen minutes he finally found what he was looking for. He emerged wearing an elegant black silk shirt buttoned half-way, tight black pants dripping with chains and crosses and a black leather wrist cuff with a banded green snakeskin pattern. His normally somewhat ordered hair was a mess of shaggy raven tresses that hung in his eyes and brushed the tip of his ears in an elf-like manner . And the chain choker normally hidden by his suit gleamed against the pale skin of his throat.
Shutting off the lights and closing the windows he sashayed out of the empty apartment, locking it loudly behind him.