Color Me…
By Amaniblue
AN: Off shoot idea of Yamane-sensei's latest edition of "Pray in Abyss." The story diverges upon Akihito's discovery of the crying man. I've reached writer's hell with the biggest, massive plot blockage ever for all my other stories. Here goes for something different offered by my muse.
Couple: AsamixAkihito; AsamixOC
Rated: M; spoilers for "Pray in Abyss"
Summary: Silliness abound. A jealous Akihito asks a question that leads him down a dangerous road of action. Read on and find out
01: Color Me Green
"Kou, Takato…. Do… do you… do you guys think I'm….sexy?"
To say both of his friends were metaphorically floored, poled-axe, hit on the side of the head with a sledge hammer by his sudden left fielder was not much of an exaggeration. Needless to say his face is probably turning into that embarrassing shade of red he hated didn't help either. However, desperate times call for desperate measures. The question was paramount to his current predicament and it couldn't be left to fester any further.
It was all Asami's fault of course. Everything IS Asami's fault.
It had only been a little less than two month since Akihito moved in with the crime lord. Yet, he's already caught Asami red handed with that crying man from several nights ago. Somehow, in the back of his mind, Akihito knew he wasn't the only one. Asami was too good at what he does in bed not to have garnered those skills with hordes of other people. He felt dishearten at the thought, if not a bit embarrass in admitting that observation.
He should move out. If Asami wanted his play time with another man, Akihito should give the crime lord what he wants. Since the incident with Momohara Ai has blown over quite some time ago with stories of her having a secret affair with a certain movie producer, the fan/stalkers have moved on to a different target.
So why should he stay a moment longer?
That was the first question Akihito had plague his indecisive mind with since the discovery. However, like an annoying insect bite, he kept scratching at the thought until other questions, much more itchy pop up to the forefront of his conscious.
Was Asami bored with him already?
That had to be true.
Looking back, Akihito remembered the past week. The man had returned home like always, ate the dinner Akihito had prepared out and gone to bed without even molesting him. At first, the photographer hadn't thought anything weird about it. It wasn't like they had sex every night after all or sleep in the same bed for that matter. Even though Akihito had thought Asami to be a sex addict for being insatiable every time they met so far; after moving in, they both fell into a routine that surprisingly didn't revolve around sex. They were cohabiting and oddly they would have sex when their schedule permits it like every other couple. Not that they were a couple. And schedule permitting was a lot nicer description and uncomplicated than considering the longer version of saying them coincidentally being home at the same time without any other engagements, equates to Asami getting some whether Akihito is in the mood or not. But that was beside the point.
Somehow or other, he'd gone complacent and hadn't realize his place in Asami's life. He's a fill-in, plain and simple. A temporary sex buddy until something better comes along. That realization made him leapt to another. He was probably a fill-in for someone prior. That thought following the other pitiable question had made him angry, not that he was jealous mind you. Heck no, he wasn't jealous. One has to like the bastard in order to be jealous.
All the same, it still drove Akihito to do one thing he'd never thought he'd do for Asami.
The photographer turned into a stalker.
Looking back, Akihito felt more than a bit ashamed of his behavior. He was watching his target: the crying man, as if he's one of those private detectives trying to catch a cheating spouse. Not like Asami and him were married or anything. But he'd gone back to that hotel in search of his new target, somehow doubtful and yet hopeful the other may still be there.
The morning concierge staff was a cute young lady who was tight lip at first before Akihito flashed what he calls his paparazzo badge. He hated to be associated with that side of photojournalism, but it couldn't be helped.
Once Akihito alluded to the fact that the young man was an up and coming actor, she did a one eighty and was more than happy to disclose gossipy information without breaking the hotel's policy on privacy. The more the photographer heard though, the more determined he was to stalk the fellow.
Like a possess spouse seeking divorce material, he stayed incognito, blending into the background as he follow the young man around. Not once did he return home, he was still too pissed to do so. Within two days, he had the crying man's routine down.
It was the most boring two days ever. With nothing odd happening, Akihito began feeling too self conscious of his actions and more than a little paranoid. Asami has yet to show and he felt oddly relieved that it wasn't a repeat offense despite what the staff lady said about the crying man receiving a late night visitor every day the young man had been staying. The initial adrenaline rush had worn out ages ago and Akihito felt silly going about this whole business.
It wasn't until the third day he felt his actions were justifiably warranted. Akihito was planning to give up on the endeavor entirely, when the crying man, dress to the nines in an expensive black suit was picked up by an unmarked black limo.
Immediately, Akihito had raised his camera and poked the telephoto lens through the bushes he was hiding behind. It was just a brief glimpse, but it was enough to prove all his suspicions was correct.
It didn't occur to him at the time that the limo belongs to Asami until the familiar silhouette appears before the open door to allow the other to slip in. And typical of Asami, the young man was in the crime lord's lap and their mouths were fused firmly before the limo door even closes.
That had hurt. Akihito had suspected as much. But what hurts the most was that genuine amuse smile and warm eyes Asami had greeted the young man with. Akihito had rarely seen it himself and didn't realize it was something he thought was special to him. Bestow only to him. God he sounded like a girl.
What a joke. He felt stupid. Like a love sick puppy kicked to the corner.
So much for wanting to know more about Asami he had thought then.
That event was just hours ago. Yesterday night he believes. Akihito wasn't sure. It wasn't like he was drunk or anything. His head does feel a bit heavy and light at different times, but the result was the same. He'd been up all night, staying over at Kou's of course ever since the discovery, pondering his life.
He didn't think his behavior was that alarming, but it caused Kou to call for back up in the form of Takato. Thus the current predicament: they demanding to know what the situation was.
Not like he was going to tell them something like.
"Yeah I just found out my boyfriend, lover, oh whatever the hell the royal bastard is, was cheating on me."
No way in hell. Akihito was not willing to disclose something like that to his two best friends as of… ever.
Even if the world ends tomorrow, his brief affair—, no fling— er thing, with Asami lies with him to his grave. Guilt and shame has nothing to do with it. And if he's going straight to hell for not confessing the worst mistake of his life before he meets his maker, then so be it.
His manhood is on the line. Not that his loaded question just now didn't jeopardize it any. Akihito would like to think that it takes some heavy ball sacs to even ask such a question.
So there he face, sitting across from his friends at a quiet family diner, daring his two closest friends to respond; his signature stubbornness plaster onto his slim frame from head to toe. It had taken him a long time to come down to this one question.
The duo had frozen over for several moments. The dramatic pause, an overkill of constipated looks of horror and hysteria, stretch beyond appropriate. Then miraculously, as if nothing monumental occurred, Kou and Takato continue their previous movements and speech without pause.
"So Takato, how's that wife of yours?"
"Can you pass the ketchup, Kou? Thanks."
Takato takes the bottle and drowns his fries in tomato paste. Spurts of red condiment farted over the airwave between them before the married man responds.
"She's doing great. You, Kou?"
Entirely too fascinated with the red sea of floating potato logs, Kou began dumpster diving to the rescue. Duel fisting his mouth with piece after piece. Garbled words spew forth along with mashed projectiles.
"Nemer bedder. Yow?"
And thus the renew banter continue with a gusto whilst the third wheeler who dare to raise the leper question remains oddly quiet. The duo knew better of course. This evasive maneuver has a record of a fifty-fifty chance to work amongst their circle of friends. Having Akihito being on the receiving end however, never been tried. So the tactic remains to be seen.
By the time both men ventures a glance and gawk at the silent figure, all ploy stops at a standstill.
With his head dip low and his ash brown hair shading his eyes, an aura of gloom amplifies from Akihito in waves.
As if telepathically link, both men share the same thoughts.
Woah!
Was he serious?
Did we just hurt his feelings?
No way.
They shared another look of disbelief that quickly mounts toward the realm of probability. Takato (the more sensitive of the two since he's married and all) clears his throat and spoke up tentatively.
"You know we're here for you right?"
A slow nod was their answer from the photographer. Minutes drag on by, no other sign was forthcoming.
This was serious, yet Takato knew from experience that forcing Akihito to talk about his emotions is like pulling teeth sometimes. However, with enough patience and a great amount of alcohol, those tight lips would open and words would flow like the Yellow river in China.
He quickly put his idea to work and bid their waiter over.
"Three Asahi, please!"
Besides an odd look from both Kou and the waiter, Akihito barely acknowledges the exchange. After the waiter left, Kou raise a hand to the scratch the back of his head, his confusion quite obvious.
"Um, Takato, isn't it a bit early to drink?"
Fortunately for Takato, Kou wasn't too ditzy to realize his meaning when the dyed blond silently tilts his head at Akihito for him to figure it out.
Thirty minutes later, it took four beers, two hamburgers and a chocolate milkshake for Akihito to finally loosen his lips enough to talk freely. Even then, the admission of information was somewhat slur and water down.
"I'm stayin' wid dis person, right?"
Despite their initial shock, both Kou and Takato made sure they nod regularly to keep the other from stopping his disjointed tale.
"Everydin' was goin' fine. Yeah, we still fight, kinky sex here and there, and eatin' together is good and we even talk! I mean talk talk! Then I caught dem hangin' around hotels and kissin'!"
Both men knew their eyebrows must have flew pass their hairlines but kept on nodding vigorously to hear the rest. It was a rare moment indeed to hear their carefree friend talk about his love life. Despite all appearances, when it comes to affairs of the heart, Akihito was mostly dismissive of the whole ordeal. So to hear him not only confirm the fact but having a relationship at all is astounding.
"Why now? After all the shit I been through, suddenly Asami doesn't want me anymore?"
Takato perks up in recognizing that name. Kou did too. They've both remember the girl Akihito kept calling from the last New Year's party. They should have caught on then.
"What does dat other guy has that I don't?"
Upon hearing this sullen whine, Takato, somehow or other thought Akihito's plight to be quite amusing. To Kou though, who took it the other direction, it made perfect sense. His memory wasn't as faulty as most people think. Thus Kou felt giddy to provide the details to Takato in an excited whisper.
"Remember New Years?"
The other gives a hesitant nod.
"Remember Yoshida dialing the number for Asami and got a man answering instead?"
This time Takato nods vigorously.
"I spoke to that man too. At the time I thought nothing of it. Now though, I'm thinking this Asami chick must've been stringing Akihito along with this other guy for a while now."
The skeptic look on Takato's face seems to say differently. "You think so?"
Kou nods firmly in reply.
A moment later, a thoughtful look appears on Takato's demeanor before he whispers a conjecture of his own.
"So how would you explain that it was a man who picked up Akihito on New Years and not a woman?"
Kou's eyebrows rose at that observation. He definitely did not thought of that. However he had a strong comeback to that remark.
"That's easy. Asami must have sent the other guy to pick up our Akihito. If the chick has both guys wrap around her little fingers, I'm sure she's asked them to do anything and they would. I mean just look at Akihito! He's got it bad for this Asami."
By now, after finishing off his fourth beer, Akihito was licking the lip of the empty can to get the rest of the beer between the cracks. When that didn't work, the photographer tilts the can upside down, directly above his wide open mouth with his tongue sticking out to catch the rest. A teensy weensy drop drip down and Akihito lap it up like a dog thirsting for water. It was a sorry sight to behold.
With such proof, Takato was hard put to argue with Kou and not take this situation seriously. Thus being the sensible one, Takato wipe his face of all amusement and don on his sage look. It was time Akihito had a dose of reality check. He clears his throat to get his friend's attention.
"Akihito. We know what's going on. You don't need to hide it from us anymore."
The drunken photographer had to blink twice before those leaden words sunk into his gut like bowling balls. His eyes, though a bit daze, immediately became wary with suspicion.
"You do?"
Takato's demeanor doesn't change before he continues.
"Yes, we do. You have been living a double life, right?"
A quick intake of breath was proof enough. Shame immediately contours the drunken form. A meek sounding "yes" cut through the tension.
"So how long do you plan to lie to yourself?"
Akihito's brow drew in together. He didn't think he was lying.
"This relation with Asami isn't healthy."
The photographer nods his head firmly in agreement.
"You need to break it off."
Shoulders slumping, Akihito admitted in another quiet whisper.
"I'd try that before but I still end up back at their place."
Takato shares a confuse look with Kou before he venture to ask a rather probing question, even if they were all best friends.
"You mean you knew and you still went back?"
The lines furrowing Akihito's brows drew in deeper. Large droplets of tears began pooling over his lids, threatening to overflow.
Another quiet admission, "I only suspected it before I moved in, but now I got proof."
The picture was getting clearer for Kou and Takato. Obviously, their friend was in some sort of reverse harem relationship like those popular shoujo mangas.
Surprisingly it was Kou who deliver the wisest statement of all, "Akihito, we can't tell you what to do but we want you to be happy. And you my friend don't look it. If being with Asami makes you happy, then fight for it."
Suffice it to say, both Takato and Akihito were duly impress by that little speech.
Those sobering words got Akihito truly thinking instead of reacting for the first time since his discovery.
Is being with Asami making him happy? True, they have their many differences, like social status, influence, finances, physique, sense of humor, and morality. Come to think of it, they were plenty different. However, they do have some similarities right? How else could they get along? For the moment, Akihito couldn't think up a single one reason why being with Asami was better.
Why IS he with Asami?
Sure the man saved him many times: twice from Fei Long, once from that Russian and another with that stalker; all different types of perverts who seem to be after his ass. But then, isn't Asami the biggest pervert of all?
Shouldn't he need saving from this man? How could Akihito forget so easily that he moved into the lion's den voluntarily to be devoured?
What was he staying for?
The photographer knew the answer ages ago. He'd been avoiding it for just as long. Enough was enough. Akihito took a deep breath and made the final leap, at least in his thoughts.
He knew why.
He wanted to be with Asami. There, he thought it.
Then a frown immediately mars his forehead. But Asami doesn't want to be with him. That was the kicker of it all.
Akihito knew without a doubt that if Asami set his mind to something, it wouldn't be half ass. So regardless of what he finally admits to himself, the photographer can't make the Club owner do anything he doesn't want anymore. Even if Akihito wants Asami, it wouldn't matter right?
It would be truly an uphill battle if he were to fight for Asami.
Hesitation gave way to determination; ferocity like Takato and Kou has ever seen blaze within hazel depths.
Since when was he a quitter? Wasn't that what Asami admire most about him? Akihito remembers faintly the words spoken to him by the older man in one particular (and rather embarrassing) limo ride earlier last year.
Asami hasn't kicked him out yet, until the man says otherwise, Akihito decides to counter attack.
So for the second time that day, Akihito couldn't believe he uttered those exact words. This time though, his confidence level was off the charts.
"Let me try this again. Kou, Takato. Do you guys think I'm sexy?"