Hanae stood in front of his bedroom mirror, turning this way and that way, hoping one angle or another would reveal his chosen outfit had hidden charm. He was wearing a white button up with a yellow sweater vest over it, and he already knew that Saga and Fusshi were going to veto the outfit the minute they saw it. But he honestly didn't have anything better to wear. Hanae ran a hand through his hair, promptly and inadvertently ruining the painstaking effort he put into geling it into something he thought resembled "cool."
"What do people even wear to clubs?" he growled under his breath. He plopped down in the chair in front of his computer and searched clubbing outfits. Everything looked way cooler than anything he owned. Hanae hung his head back and slapped his hands over his face. Why did he agree to this again? Maybe he could back out. Saga and Fusshi would crucify him for it, but that would be nothing new.
Hanae plucked his phone from where he'd thrown it on his pillow, but just as he opened the group chat, his doorbell rang. He swore under his breath, but it was too late to back out now. Hanae gathered his courage and strode to the door.
"Ashiyan," Fusshi greeted in a singsong voice. He was smiling his Cheshire grin, the one that always filled Hanae with foreboding.
"Yo," Saga said, and then, "You're not wearing that shit."
Saga was wearing a loud leopard print t-shirt and dark slacks. Fusshi, the more daring and eccentric of the two, was decked out in a patchwork shirt, a loose black tie, and a white fedora. Hanae didn't personally like their styling, but he could see that, objectively, they looked infinitely cooler than he did. He looked like a high schooler in uniform.
But still, Hanae wailed, "This is the best I have."
"Not anymore it isn't." Saga raised up a bag and pushed by him into the apartment.
Fusshi flashed a peace sign as he too stepped over the threshold. "We know you too well, Ashiyan. You cannot escape," he said, half laugh, half threat. He took the bag from Saga's hand and tossed it to Hanae. "Get dressed."
Hanae huffed and went into the bathroom, filled with trepidation at what his friends selected for him. But when he opened the bag, he was pleasantly surprised. He shucked off his sweater vest and dressed in what they'd selected: a print t-shirt and a red plaid button up. He left the button up unbuttoned over the shirt and checked himself out in the mirror. He actually looked good. Not too crazy, just...cool. Like how he wanted to look. Apparently Saga and Fusshi did know him that well. He felt a little touched. There weren't any pants in the bag, so he stuck with the dark wash jeans he was wearing already. Hanae fixed his hair and came out of the bathroom.
"There's our handsome friend." Fusshi clapped him on the shoulder. "Feeling good?"
"These clothes are really nice, guys… You sure it's okay?"
"It's your birthday, of course it's okay," Saga scoffed. "Besides, you're doing us a favor. If you wore the other outfit, they wouldn't even let us in the door."
"You're twenty now!" Fusshi enthused, looping an arm around Hanae and Saga and herding them out of the apartment. "You have to look your best—in case a drink isn't the only first you'll have tonight," he finished with a wink.
Hanae flushed violently and Fusshi's smile stretched even wider. Saga slapped Fusshi upside the head.
"Gross, man."
"Ow! That hurt, Saga!" Fusshi whined. He let them go as they stepped onto the street.
Fortunately, Hanae's apartment wasn't a far walk from the center of town. Town was where all the fun happened: bars, clubs, fancy restaurants. On really quiet winter days, Hanae thought he could hear the echo of the bass drums from his bedroom. So far, even though Hanae was only a twenty minute walk from all these youthful diversions and had lived in his apartment for several months now, he hadn't once went into town to take advantage of them. Saga and Fusshi declared his hermit ways unforgivable when they learned, and bullied him into agreeing to let them take him out for his twentieth birthday, when he was legally able to drink.
Hanae thought they meant to take him to a nice restaurant, a bar at most. But no, they wanted to force him to spend the night in a loud, dark, sweaty club. And not just any club, either. They were taking him to The Mononokean, the largest, most debauched and popular club in town. He should have known; Saga and Fusshi never did things by halves. He both admired their energy and cowered from it.
As they got close enough to hear the thump of the music, Hanae felt his stomach twist and squirm. "Guys… I don't know if I can do this…."
"Oh, it'll be fun, Ashiyan," Fusshi crooned. He patted Hanae gently on the back and then straightened in excitement. "You might even get to see the Master of the Mononokean!" Fusshi's expression turned dreamy and Saga's brow grew correspondingly stormy.
Hanae blinked between them. "Uh… Who's the 'Master of the Mononokean'? The owner?"
Fusshi was still in lalaland and didn't seem to have heard, so after several seconds of glaring and huffing, Saga answered, "He's this guy that shows up sometimes. He doesn't own anything. He might act like he owns the place, but he doesn't."
"Oh…" Hanae tilted his head and studied Fusshi. He didn't seem to be coming down from the clouds anytime soon.
Saga noticed his confused and meaningful glances at their other friend and kneaded his temples. "He's...kind of attractive. The guy. The 'Master of the Mononokean.' " He said the man's nickname with as much scorn and sarcasm as he could muster. It clearly caused him pain to admit this so-called club legend had any redeeming qualities.
"Snap out of it, will you?" Saga elbowed Fusshi and walked past him towards the line into The Mononokean.
"Ow! I told you, that hurts," Fusshi whined, rubbing his ribs. "Why do you keep hurting me?"
"Because you're a dumbass."
Hanae swallowed his apprehension and followed them. He had held out some hope that the bouncer would take one look at him and turn him away. Then they could abandon this whole scary idea and go to a regular bar. But the bouncer took a look at each of their IDs in turn, smirked at Hanae and wished him a happy birthday, and let them in.
The riotous dark swallowed them whole. Hanae was at once amazed and petrified at the club atmosphere. The space was gigantic, and yet it managed to be packed to bursting. Red, blue, and green strobes shot erratically up the walls, bounced off the metal wrought ceiling, and slithered over the sea of writhing bodies. A DJ stood at the far end of the room, playing on a technicolor stage. A bar to his left, booths and tables to his right. Hanae wanted to run and hide under a table, but he was afraid he would get snagged by the dancers and pulled into the mosh pit.
He clung to Saga's arm as they shoved and weaved their way to the bar, knowing full well not to trust Fusshi to keep him from the wolves. He let his friends order the drinks, since he had no experience or interest and was too keyed up to be trusted with language.
"Here," Saga said, slipping a shot glass into Hanae's hand. "Drink. It will calm your nerves."
Hanae dutifully knocked back the shot, not caring what it was.
"And this one, too," Fusshi said, plying him with a second shot of clear liquid. Hanae made quick work of that one as well. Fusshi's eyes shone at his sudden compliance. Hanae still felt queasy and really hoped the alcohol would do what his friends said it would ASAP.
After Fusshi and Saga had ordered their own drinks, and provided Hanae with his third—a tumbler of something dark and sweet—they slipped sidewise to lean against the wall, out of the way of the thickest of the dancers.
"How you feeling?" Saga shouted over the music.
"Fine," Hanae shouted back. Now that his eyes had gotten used to the darkness and strobing lights, it was a little better. The music was still too loud, though, and he was still way too nervous.
A group of girls jumping to the beat looked over at them. One of them, a cute twenty-something sporting a tight dress and high ponytail, waved, but whether she was waving to just one of them or all, Hanae couldn't tell. Saga and Fusshi smirked and waved back regardless.
Fusshi leaned in and the other two bent their heads to hear. "When we finish our drinks, we'll hit the dance floor. Okay, Ashiyan?"
Hanae nodded. He was determined not to ruin their fun, and he thought maybe he was beginning to feel a little fuzzy headed after all. He was sure dancing would be more appealing if he got a proper birthday buzz like his friends wanted.
A ripple of excitement went through the crowd. Hanae could feel it like a blip in the music. The woman that just waved to them suddenly stopped dancing and whipped around. Hanae took a step away from the wall and strained to get a better look.
A man had just entered the club. He was tall and slim and golden. He wore a white button up and red jacket that fit him so well it looked like a second skin. His blond hair was combed rakishly to one side, and his skinny red tie hung loose and slightly askew. It was a calculated dishevelment, the kind marketed in magazines, and he wore the casual grace of a model as he walked into the room, as though he at once knew he was the most attractive person there, but was so used to it, it no longer incited arrogance. The man was painfully good to look at.
Hanae didn't think he was gay, but, man, he might be. For this guy, at least, he'd be willing to bend some rules.
Fusshi jumped on Hanae and threw his arms around his neck. "That's him!" he squeaked. He had to press his mouth nearly to Hanae's ear to be heard above the blare of the music. "The Master of the Mononokean!"
Hanae twisted around to raise his eyebrows at his friend. Him? Really? he mouthed, and when Fusshi nodded rabidly, Hanae shook his head in amazement. He looked to Saga and shouted, "He is attractive. I can understand your jealousy."
Saga rolled his eyes and threw up a hand as Fusshi hopped around them like a hyper jackrabbit.
Hanae turned back to ogle the Master of the Mononokean some more—and his heart leapt into his throat. The man was watching him right back. Or at least it seemed like he was for a second there. But then the man looked away and began speaking with a cluster of girls who had flocked to his side. Hanae gulped down a few heartbeats and tried to pay attention to his friends' conversation.
"See, Saga! Ashiyan has fallen for him too. You're just being stubborn. It won't hurt your macho image to be a little gay sometimes." Fusshi poked Saga hard in the chest and danced away, laughing, when Saga growled and gave chase.
Hanae didn't even have a chance to call out before they melted into the crowd. He sighed and leaned back against the wall. Of course he would be left alone in this dark, loud place. He kind of expected it the moment Fusshi and Saga brought up going to a club. But, it was proper karma, he supposed; Hanae was usually the one ditching them at the last minute, so it was only fair that the only time he managed to make good on his promise he was the one left floundering.
Hanae drained the rest of his drink and, upon finding no better place to put his glass, he carefully squeezed his way back to the bar to nudge it onto the counter. His eyesight was a little bleary, as though a film had stretched over them. Hanae rubbed at them to try to clear it, but the fuzziness around the edges remained.
Am I already feeling it? That was fast. But then he remembered he hadn't eaten dinner. He had been too nervous and preoccupied. Hanae seemed to recall that drinking on an empty stomach was a recipe for blackouts. Uh oh... I think I sabotaged myself. That's it, no more drinks, he decided.
Hanae turned away from the bar and ran smack into the person behind him. "Sorry!" He grabbed the person's shoulders on the pretense that they needed steadying. In reality, he was the one who felt unsteady. He was more worse off than he thought.
"No problem," the other person said. Hanae glanced up at the buttery smooth baritone and found himself looking into the lightest pair of eyes he'd ever seen. Even in the dark, their amber hue glittered like liquid gold. Then Hanae noticed the red jacket, silky smooth beneath his hands, and the golden hair, which he suspected would be equally silky beneath his hands.
Hanae stared blankly, too shocked to be properly shocked. The Master of the Mononokean.
The man arched an eyebrow, and that was when Hanae realized he hadn't just thought "The Master of the Mononokean." He had said it out loud, right at the man's face.
"Shit!" he blurted and then slapped his hands over his mouth.
Now the man had both eyebrows raised.
A litany of shitshitshit I'm an idiot did a mocking little dance around Hanae's brain. He had drooled in the face of the club god and then added insult to injury by spitting profanity at him as well. He was a sinner, completely and utterly irredeemable. Hanae peered at the man through eyes wide as saucers.
The man muttered something Hanae couldn't hear and stepped around him to approach the bar, seemingly deciding Hanae was a grade-A weirdo and that it was best not to engage him. The tide of people parted as swiftly and easily as the Red Sea before their prophet.
Hanae wanted to crawl into a corner and die, he really, really wanted to. But he also really, really didn't want his one and, likely only, interaction with the Master of the Mononokean to be such a trainwreck. This had nothing to do with attraction anymore; this was a matter of salvaging his pride. Hanae sucked in a breath and swiveled around.
The bartender already had the man's drink made up, and as the Master pulled out his card to pay, Hanae carefully but swiftly slapped his own card down first. "I'll pay for his drink," he told the bartender with more bravado than he ever knew he was capable of. Hanae side-eyed the Master of the Mononokean and said in a more self-conscious tone, "As an apology, for running into you and...saying things."
Once again the blond man looked surprised, but this time it wore off more quickly. The bartender narrowed his eyes at Hanae but the Master of the Mononokean held up a staying hand. "Sure, alright," he said. His voice dripped with the magnanimity of a king. "Let him pay for my drink." He moved to slide his credit card back into his wallet.
Hanae tried to steal a glance at the name on it, but it was too dark to make it out. Darn… Hanae had hoped he could stop going around calling this guy the "Master of the Mononokean" all the time. It was a mouthful, even in his head. I guess I could just ask…
Hanae cleared his throat. "I'm Ashiya Hanae."
"That's cute." But the way he said it didn't sound like he thought it was cute. Hanae suddenly had a premonition: this guy's good looks hid a terrible personality.
"Okay," Hanae said and decided to cut his losses. "Enjoy the drink." He headed back toward the wall he and his friends were leaning against; he wanted to make sure that Saga and Fusshi could find him easily if they came back.
Someone snagged the back of his shirt and tugged, just enough to alert him. Hanae half turned. The Master of the Mononokean glared at him, arms crossed. He said something and raised his drink tumbler, looking annoyed. Or maybe confused? Hanae couldn't tell in the strobing lights, and he definitely couldn't hear. Hanae took a step forward and cupped a hand over his ear. "What?"
The other man's brows drew together and he leaned forward as well. "That's it? You buy me a drink and walk away?"
Now Hanae was confused. "I introduced myself to you. You didn't seem interested. I didn't think I should push it."
The man opened his mouth, closed it, and frowned. He brought his drink to his mouth and took a sip, looking surly and sour about it. Hanae raised an eyebrow. Huh. Okay, maybe I misread him? And then it occurred to him that if he had misread the situation, and if the Master of the Mononokean had chased after him, then maybe he had a chance to turn this into...something.
Hanae suddenly grinned, which of course, not being privy to Hanae's train of thought, made the other man glare harder. Hanae bit down on his smile and took a decisive step forward.
"Sorry, I must have misunderstood," he said, trying for suave, and probably failing, but whatever. "Let's start again?"
The man scrutinized him. He took another long pull of his drink, looking lofty and tantalizing with his golden eyes glittering above the rim. Hanae had never had someone stare at him for so long, and certainly not someone as attractive and seemingly unattainable as the Master of the Mononokean. A dirty kind of thrill went through him, being the sole focus of the club's legend. He had a suspicion that they had the whole room's attention, but he was scared to look. He was terrified that if he let the man out of his sight he might suddenly lose interest.
The man finished the drink and placed it on the bar behind him. He stepped into Hanae's space. "Abeno Haruitsuki," he said blankly. His eyes blazed like the words were a challenge. "Not 'Master of the Mononokean.' I hate that name."
Hanae smiled. It was a little watery because the man was suddenly very close and very focused on him, and Hanae was pretty sure he felt a buzz now and lightheadedness didn't pair well with nerves.
"Nice to meet you, Abeno-san."
Abeno clicked his tongue. "Not 'Abeno-san' either. I'm not your boss, there's no need for honorifics."
So direct… Was it normal to find that arousing? The thought made him feel overhot, and Hanae's desire to escape it was at war with the impulse to say, "So I guess I'll call you Haru, then? Or Itsuki?"
The man's eyes flashed and Hanae realized he had spoken aloud again. He sucked in a breath—that's it, I am never ever drinking again—but there was nothing to do but own it he'd get lucky a second time.
The man closed the distance between them, so close his mouth was nearly pressed to Hanae's ear when he hissed, "Don't press your luck."
Hanae swallowed. Abeno was right; it was a miracle the man was even paying attention to him. Hanae was far below his level, and yet he had the audacity to speak to him like they were friends. And yet when Hanae's cheeks heated, it wasn't with shame, but desire. He had already made a thorough fool of himself, but Abeno was still here, glaring though he was, and against all logic Hanae wanted nothing more than to push Abeno's buttons again. I might be a masochist. Or a sadist? Sadomasochist?
Abeno narrowed his eyes, and Hanae had a strange sense that he could read his thoughts. He grabbed hold of Hanae's wrist. "Come on, then."
Hanae's head snapped up as Abeno dragged him onto the dance floor. The crowd opened to let them through, but the farther they waded in, the less room there was for people to separate. The people in the center of the floor were also way drunker or way more into the music, so they paid little attention to the newcomers. Hanae was struck by the irony that their privacy was greater now that there were more people around. This deep in the crowd, the only person who cared about what they got up to was them.
It was freeing. The music mounted in a mess of EDM and Hanae matched its energy as he danced. The beat embedded itself in his skin so deeply, he forgot for a moment where he was and with whom. When he remembered, he grinned full force at Abeno. He wanted to say something, but the music was too loud, and besides, he didn't know what exactly he meant to say. Abeno shook his head and the corner of his mouth curled up in the beginnings of a smile. Hanae's heart stuttered.
Mid-dance, Abeno paused to swipe his hair from his face, mussing it beyond any sense of order. He came into the club carelessly disheveled, but the heat and bodies brushing up against him as he danced had rumpled him further. Someone that good-looking in disorder... Hanae felt undone at the sight of him.
He wanted to know this person, the true Abeno Haruitsuki, not the image people called the Master of the Mononokean. And when Hanae saw Abeno's smile finally make its way into his gold eyes, he had a feeling that Abeno wanted to be known.
Hanae took Abeno's hand. The other man looked perplexed as Hanae led him off the dance floor and toward the booths on the opposite end of the room.
"What's wrong?" Abeno asked. He glanced back at the crowd. "Too claustrophobic?"
"No, it's not that. I thought it'd be nice to talk, rather than dance." Abeno squinted at him. Hanae leaned in to speak in his ear. "I said I'd rather talk—"
Abeno grabbed his head and held it in front of his face. "I heard you. I just think that's really weird."
"Oh."
Hanae stood very still, and took the moment to stare deeply into Abeno's eyes. They were such an extraordinary color. And his skin was so smooth and flawless. Being this close, Hanae could plainly see that Abeno was a human being, not a god, but he was an exceptionally good-looking human being, the likes of which besotted poets would write odes to. Hanae was beginning to feel like one of those poets.
"I guess I'm weird, then," he said at last.
"Yeah, I'll say. People…" Abeno paused and stared into Hanae's eyes as if he only just realized they were almost nose to nose. Heat shot through Hanae's lower body as Abeno's gaze dropped to his mouth. "People," Abeno started again, gaze returning to Hanae's eyes, "usually don't want to just 'talk' to me."
Hanae knew exactly what he was not saying, but he could taste possibility shimmering between them, so he asked, "Oh yeah? What do they usually want?"
Abeno snorted and pushed Hanae's face away. "I thought you said you wanted to talk to me? Or did you mean flirt? Because that's what people usually want."
Hanae bit his lip. "I…want to do both? Sorry, to be honest, I'm not sure what I'm doing. I haven't done this," he gestured between them, "in a while. But I'm serious; I want to get to know you."
Abeno's face scrunched into an expression that looked like a hybrid of suspicious and flattered. "I see. Well… A club is probably not the place for that. This is more for..."
He glanced around them and Hanae quickly caught his meaning. The couple in the nearest booth was climbing all over each other with complete disregard for the public. Behind them on the dancefloor a glass shattered as some drunken woman stumbled and fell. Clubs were not for talking and the deafening music made doubly sure of that.
"There's a bar down the road," Abeno said.
Hanae did his best not to have a heart attack. This was actually happening. The most attractive person he had ever seen was actually interested in furthering their acquaintance. Be cool, Hanae! Don't screw this up! If tonight went well, then… Hanae swallowed and tried not to go too far down that rabbit hole.
"Great," he said, voice only trembling a little. "Let's go."
"What about your friends, though?"
"Hm?"
"Those two guys you were with. They might be worried if you disappear."
Hanae gasped. "Oh, geez! I completely forgot." He pulled out his phone and found a series of texts.
Where'd you go? You didn't blackout in some corner, did you? Saga asked. He texted twice more, both variations on, "I'm assuming you're okay but you better let me know for sure before I call the cops." Fusshi's texts were along a different, definitely more drunk vein of: How drunk are u? Saga's freaking out. Did u find a girl? I snuck a condom into your pocket, jic! (^.~)
He shook his head. If only Fusshi knew, he'd go berserk. Hanae texted both of them back that he was fine and going to a bar down the road. He let them know he'd find his own way home that night, and then he promptly turned his phone off because he didn't want to deal with the flurry of questions he knew would come.
"I let them know I'm leaving." He smiled at Abeno, who only shrugged. "But…" Hanae stopped to think a moment. "How'd you know I came here with two guys?"
"Uh…" Abeno's eyes darted sideways. "I…guessed."
"You guessed." Hanae tilted his head and scrutinized Abeno's sudden shiftiness. "Wait…" His eyes widened. "Were you watching me?"
Abeno opened his mouth, thought better of it, and switched to pursing his lips and looking surly. A giddy, disbelieving laugh escaped Hanae's throat, because not only did Abeno's reaction confirm that he had, in fact, been watching him, but he was also pretty sure Abeno was blushing now, which was so fantastic a realization that Hanae felt like dancing.
"Then that means…" Hanae pressed a hand to his mouth. "Did you bump into me by the bar on purpose? Oh my god… You did, didn't you!" Excitement buzzed through his limbs. He had been so nervous and self-conscious this whole time, but all along Abeno was the one who wanted to introduce them. "Wow. Forget Master of the Mononokean, they should call you the Mastermind of the Mononokean." Hanae laughed again.
"Alright, you can stop now," Abeno grumbled. "I admit I noticed you when I came in, but I didn't orchestrate bumping into you. That was all your clumsiness. And that hurt, by the way; you stepped on my foot." He shot a glare at him, and Hanae ducked his head apologetically. "Besides," Abeno huffed, "I thought you were with the fedora guy."
Fedora guy? Hanae's jaw dropped. "You thought I was with Fusshi? Oh, god, no. I mean, he's… But, yeah, no. He's just a friend."
"Well, obviously. Unless you're a two-timer."
"Nope, no two-timing here. I'm only into one-timing, thanks."
Abeno snorted. "Okay. Well… Good."
Hanae clasped his hands behind his back and rocked back on his heels. "So... Bar?"
"After you." Abeno swept a hand toward the exit. Hanae was delighted to find that Abeno was smiling a genuine smile now that the air was cleared between them. He made a promise to himself right then: he would not let the night end without getting the Master of the Mononokean's number. But as they walked, joking and laughing together through the cold night air, Hanae thought, maybe, if he managed to play his cards right, he might get much more than that.