Haurka Nanese heard the sound of glasses clinking in the downstairs kitchen as he lay silently in his disheveled bed, thoroughly exhausted from recent activities. The dark room smelled of masculine musk and other pheromones; the only sound came from Haruka's steadily slowing breathe. Sleep threatened to take Haruka by the hand and gently lead him away but, at the last moment, he stopped himself.
On a whim, Haruka grabbed a picture from the bedside table that had been knocked down in the mad dash from the bed earlier that evening. The picture was of Haruka and his partner, Makoto. Makoto had just gotten his dream job at the Tokyo Fire Department. Haruka had finally been able to open the restaurant he never knew he even wanted. Makoto could not wait to share the good news with his boyfriend so he rushed over to the restaurant, still in full fire battle gear. In a spurt of glee, Haruka planted a congratulatory kiss on Makoto's blushing cheek. As if by fate, Nagisa whipped out his camera, capturing the moment forever. That had been two years ago and now the two men were happily sharing a one bedroom apartment above Haruka's little restaurant.
With a small smile, Haruka placed the framed picture back on the bedside table. It promptly fell back over. He took a quick inventory of the room. Clothes were strung out all over the place. Makoto would not be pleased. He likes to keep a clean home. Thinking of Makoto made Haruka sprang from the bed, throwing the sweat damp sheets to the wayside. He walked across the room to the large bay window. The bedroom's sole window looked out onto the Tokyo skyline. The night sky above the city was orange due to what looked like an overcast sky. It would be a slow night for Makoto at the station.
The sound of the home phone blaring jarred Haruka out of his internal musings.
"Moshimoshi."
The voice on the other end grew hesitant. "Nanese Haruka?"
"Yes." Haruka did not like this. The voice on the other end to was familiar to him but he could not place the memory. Anxiety began to coil in his stomach.
"This is Chief Nakomora of the Tokyo Fire Department. We have you listed as Tachibana Makoto's emergency contact." Haruka's heart dropped to his stomach. Damn it. He knew joining the fire department was too dangerous for Makoto. Why did he let him do that? Damnit damnit damnit.
"Is he going to be okay?" Haruka was pacing now. He scanned the room looking for clothes he could quickly throw on.
"No. There was an accident at the site. It was an apartment fire. Some of the residents got trapped in the higher levels. Makoto helped save as many as he could. But the roof collapsed." Chief Nakamora was cold and matter-of-fact. How could he care so little for one of his men? Did Makoto's safety mean so little to him?
"Which hospital did they send him to?"
There was a long, agonizing pause on the other end. "Son, he didn't make it to the hospital."
Understanding chilled Haruka to the bone and the world began to crumble around him. He felt every bite and scratch mark that adorned his skin like it was thick, black ooze that would never wash away. He wished he could rip his own flesh from the bone and throw it into a pyre. He disgusted himself. Haruka turned to the rest of the room hoping, praying this nightmare would end. His home felt like a foreign land. The walls and the furniture no longer made sense to him. It no longer looked and smelled like his. Haruka fixed his eyes on the glass of the bay window. It seemed to provide solace from this sharp, chilling agony that slowly began to cling to Haruka's very core.
If the fire chief continued to offer his condolences, Haruka did not pay attention. The police chief gave Haruka the address where Makoto's body was being held along with their daytime visiting hours. Haruka respectfully offered his thanks and disconnected the call.
The world stopped as Haruka stared out that window into the Tokyo night. Haruka felt hot tracks of tears slowly roll down his face. At that moment, the words of his late grandma came to mind. When you're ten, they call you a prodigy. When you're fifteen, they call you a genius. Once you hit twenty, you're just an ordinary person. Haruka only had three more months until he was ordinary. If this is what extraordinary felt like, Haruka knew he didn't want it.
Haruka wasn't paying attention to the soft sound of someone ascending the steps nor the sound of two wine glasses quietly finding their way onto the bedside table. All of a sudden, Haruka felt the heat of another warm body against his bare back. Hot breath gently caressed his neck as sharp teeth tenderly made their mark on his shoulder.
"Good morning, sleepy head." A teasing note danced on the soft lips that were now working their way to Haruka's ear. There was a loud invitation in the strong grip of the masculine hands that hung to Haruka's hips and pulled the rest of him close. Haruka felt nothing.
"Rin. Go home."