Chapter 1: Fateful Meeting

A/N: Hello everyone! This is my first story, so any and all comments are welcome! There will be darker themes, shipping, and maybe some explicit themes, so I hope y'all can enjoy. Main pairing is Soriku, but others may be introduced later on in the story. Hope to hear!

Sora knew nothing beyond his room. Cold, cement walls on every side of him, shielding him from the fearsome outdoors. Though, the "fearsome" aspect was unknown to Sora. He wasn't exactly sure what was fearsome about outside other than his father telling the boy so. And Sora only knew to listen to father, the only thing he was ever taught.

There were people out there that wanted to hurt him and take him away from father. There were monsters and beasts who killed and ate people. There were people who would turn poor Sora into someone else by breaking his heart. His father was particularly adamant about that reason. But Sora knew something else as well: He didn't have a heart. He didn't know what emotions he was capable of, he could only feel with his body.

Despite this, Sora could also tell his father was the same way. He often called Sora "Rao", his supposed mother's name, and forced the boy to grow his hair out long. On slow nights, Sora would find himself in his father's embrace, being mistaken for his mother, before being tossed to the side and shut in darkness of the room once more.

The room Sora stayed in wasn't much. Cement ceiling by cement walls by cement walls had taught the boy to stay on his meager excuse for a bed as much as possible. Though, that was the easy part, as he was always adorned with a silver cuff that attached to a leg of the bed. The furthest he could go was towards the barred window that sat far above his head. It was the entrance to the small alleyway and was able to close on rainy nights. But, on clear nights like this night, the window was left wide open and Sora would listen to the world.

In the building next door, there always seemed to be people and loud sounds, though he did not know what to called the building (if he knew the word, it would best be described as a club). What he did know was, on occasion, he would hear that voice. On those nights, he would gather up his quilted blanket, wrap it around his small frame, and sit just under the window. He would close his eyes and be immersed in as much of the sound as he could.

There were many times where Sora could indeed make out words that were spoken. Sometimes the voice was fast, sometimes it was slow, but it was always beautiful. He enjoyed the slow songs better, as they all spoke of a certain word. It was said tenderly, usually accompanied with good sounding words, as Sora would think of it, and was something he once asked his father about.

"Father, what is love?"

"Love? You want to know about love, boy? Lemme tell you about love: it isn't real. It is made up to make you think someone is special to you, but it never really existed."

"Aren't I special to you, Father?"

"What, are you saying I should love you or some shit? You're just my product. The only relationship we have are product and owner and you better be damn happy I treat you the way I do!"

It wasn't a fond memory, to say the least, but it was also confusing. There were many words Sora didn't know, but two stuck out to him in that conversation. The words "relationship" and "special". After pestering a customer of his, Sora found that special was something important to someone. So, Sora placed "special" with "the voice". He was right, wasn't he? The voice Sora heard from his room was important to him. He knew the voice was comforting, almost like the days when Sora was mistaken for his mother by father.

The opening of the door broke the brunet out of this thoughts, blue eyes flicking from the bit of light cascading out the window towards the man who had stepped out.

Father.

The word rang in Sora's head as soon as he saw the man. He was tall and burly, someone who doesn't play around. His tanned skin showed years of working outside and blond hair was streaked gray with stress. Dark eyes scanned the room before resting on the boy who sat on the bed, huddled up in the blankets. With a grunt, Father stumbled his way over to where Sora was, grabbing the boy by his hair.

"If you've got nothing better to do than stare at light, go out there and get me some money, whore!" Father roughly took Sora by an arm, yanking the boy to the floor. The cement gave a cold greeting to the brunet, greeting a high majority of the small body. His ankle, sadly, was pulled upward, the metal cuff coming undone and clattering to the ground.

Pushing himself up, Sora shook his head, hair fluttering down around him. In moments, a new dress was thrown at him, before Father left the boy once more. Sora blinked before going into his usual methodical action. Stripping off the nightgown he typically wore, the boy put on the dress that had been thrown at him. It was a cocktail dress, fitted, with a deep blue color. A single shimmery pin attached the single strap to the rest of the dress. He then went over to the bureau to fix up his hair before slipping on silver sandals and making his way outside.

Father was waiting for him at the main door of the bar, arms crossed over his chest. He eyed Sora before grunting with a nod. The doors opened for Sora to walk out, the boy ignoring the whistles and other jeers from the patron's of Father's bar. Walking out into the street, Sora's small frame usually guaranteed a customer for a night, as well as few others for the nights to come. Though, Sora was not expecting what happened next.

While dazedly wandering the street, taking in what he could under the watchful eye of father, he bumped into a wall that previously wasn't there before. At least, what felt like a wall to the boy. Sora fell on his bottom a small "ouf!" escaping past his lips. Still sore after his meeting with the cement floor earlier, it took him a moment to reorient himself. Yet, before that, a hand was offered to him, a smooth voice accompanying it.

"Hey, you okay doll? Didn't hurt yourself?" Sora's eyes shot up to meet with piercing ones. Their green hue was something Sora had never seen before. Silver hair, shining like a halo, dusted over the wall's shoulders. In another moment of processing, Sora understood he didn't bump into a wall, but a person, one who was everything Sora wasn't: tall, buff, handsome, and beautiful. A chuckle went past those perfect lips, the hand caressing Sora's face. "Cat got your tongue, doll?"

Sora shook his head, the same moment the hand, which Sora found to be just as manly as the rest of the person in front of him, pulled away. "I-I'm fine…" Came the reply, Sora trying to get up on jelly legs. The hand had swooped in once more, aiding the boy in standing once more. Blue eyes met with green again, the latter glittering with a mischievous light, a perfect brow was raised bemusedly. The strong hand moved to place support on the small of Sora's back, close to the boy's bottom.

"You better watch yourself then. Dressed like that, and you'll be gobbled up by the bad men from around here!" He chuckled, Sora drinking in every noise, and eventually released the boy from his grip. Several other figures were further up the road, calling to the silver haired boy- no, man- to hurry up. He began to walk away, bidding Sora a quick farewell.

Eventually, the brunet managed to gather himself enough to shake himself out of his stupor and take a few steps forward. The angry steps of Father were eminent, but Sora didn't bother to manage with it. "Th-thank you!" He called, an arm being tugged back in the direction of the bar. He stumbled as he tried to keep his face towards the unnamed man. Sora was acknowledged by a small wave as he was tugged back into the bar, a loud and sharp voice.

Sora felt himself making a real smile for the first time in years.