Summary: their relationship is dysfunctional. It's just a shame it took Asami so long to realize it. And while he'll never say, "I love you," to the poor photographer, he has his own ways to resolve the problematic situation. But he needs to hurry, he's running out of time. (AkiXAsami)
A/N: I've actually had this idea for a while, since I wrote "Drug", but I forgot about it after a while, and just remembered it. Consider it a resolution of their messed up relationship, from Asami's p.o.v (kinda). Expect light angst, humor, and romance (as always). And on a side note, this is based lightly on Inoue Joe's song , "Closer", and the line that says, "You know the closer you get to something, the tougher it is to see it. And i'll never take you for granted"
Hope you enjoy it!
Disclaimer: I do not own the Finder Series.
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He wondered that if he suddenly stopped buying the expensive salmon sushi that Takaba seemed to love so much, if the young man would continue to sport his cheeky grin that Asami had fallen for so long ago.
Or if he stopped purchasing beer imported from Europe, would Akihito be less likely to arrive home early?
Or if he had another place to live, would his only visitations with the young photographer be forceful and aggressive?
He wondered all these things, because, as of recent, a rather vacant expression had dulled his Kitten's features.
During sex, he was excellent, of course. But in their casual moments, when they were simply being "normal", Takaba's eyes had darkened quite a bit. He hardly looked at the older man anymore.
As of recent, his photographer had been arriving home extremely late, and usually reeked of cheap alcohol. His late night staggering had gone unnoticed to Asami, as the time that Akihito chose to grace the older man with his presence, was usually around the time that Asami was asleep, or too exhausted to carry out a conversation.
Tonight was one of those nights, however, the older man was wide awake, and ready to demand an answer as to why Akihito was arriving home late, and drunk almost every single night.
The thought of the photographer cheating on him hadn't bothered Asami too much, but there was always a sliver of doubt in the light of certainty.
For Akihito's sake, Asami prayed that scandal wasn't the reason of Takaba's absence.
He never once thought to look inside of himself though.
The door opened, and like expected, paved way for an unbalanced Akihito, who fought to stay upright.
He grabbed the large door frame as he used his foot to pinch the corner of his other shoe, and slip it off.
Repeating the drunken action once again, he nearly toppled over his own foot.
Asami looked at the pitiful scene from his position on the kitchen table, and narrowed his eyes dangerously at the flushed Takaba.
Takaba looked towards the golden eyes, and his drunken state rendered him completely oblivious to the scrutiny held beneath the gaze.
He returned the scowl with a giggle.
Asami was a master of maintaining his emotions, and kept them in a solid check. So at this, though he seethed with an unknown fire, his face remained impassive.
"I'm glad you decided to drop by, Akihito,"a buried fury lay beneath the greeting, and against his better judgment, Asami allowed himself to rise with a chilling hesitation.
Takaba stumbled forward and ran a hand through his blond hair. He was beat drunk.
The boy shrugged, and pursed his lips, as if he was thinking of a logical comeback to the sarcastic ovation.
He smirked, "Miss my sex?"
Asami's eyes widened slightly at the younger man's boldness, though he attributed the confidence boost to the excessive amount of alcohol that Takaba had consumed.
Asami decided to play along, "In fact, my sweet Kitten, I did." He strode towards Akihto, quicker than the boy had a chance to stumble.
In a second, Asami's strong arms entrapped the photographer's small form, pulling the body closer to his chest.
Akihito went rigid.
"I don't want your sex though," he hiccuped, though he was dead serious, "not now, at least."
Asami chuckled, though slightly appalled by Takaba's defiance "And when did you have a choice in the matter?"
Takaba pushed against the solid chest, "A-Asami...not now."
Asami's erection rubbed into Akihito, and Takaba fought to control his own urges. He looked away, and prepared to succumb too his own shame.
"N-no," his voice drained, "not now Asami!"
But the older man wasn't listening, he was too hungry for Takaba. His hands were already sinking into Takaba's pants, circling around his swollen length.
"Not now Asami!" the sheer force in his voice was conveyed into his shaky hands, and he pushed Asami way with all of his might.
Asami was slightly irritated, and nearly forgot that the alcohol the was main cause of the boy's defiance.
He needed to get this situation under control.
"Akihito," his voice was leveled and steady, though his anger threatened to break through like an angry bull, "need I remind you who you belong to?"
The photographer averted his gaze, "How the hell could I forget?"
He was beginning to sober up a bit, but he was too far into the argument to pull out. As long as Asami believed he was drunk, he could say whatever he wanted.
"And why the hell do you care where I go, or how long I'm gone!?" he bellowed as he shot his gaze to Asami, "it's not like I'm on you whenever you come back at three in the fucking morning!"
"Akihito" Asami hissed, and glared venom at the boy, "did you forget your place that quickly?"
He cowered in the older man's gaze, yet refused to lose sight of his battle. He was crossing the line, and he knew it, but he was too far in to pull out.
"I-I know Asami, it's just," he was slightly embarrassed, "I'm..."
"Why are you coming home late?" the older man was somewhat calmer, though he hadn't really lost control to begin with.
There was a silence, and Takaba looked towards his socked feet. He rocked back and fourth on his heels, fiddling with the answer that rested on the tip of his tongue.
Asami impatiently rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"Akihi-"
"Because I'm tired of this," gaze still glued to the ground, though the rocking halted, Akihito whispered, "of this...this confusion!"
Asami raised an eyebrow, "Confusion, " the older man chuckled darkly, "Explain."
Takaba blushed. He was being mocked, and he knew it. Asami wasn't taking him seriously, not in the least. Akihito's dismay was entertaining to Asami, just a mean of excitement. He suddenly felt like a defenseless rabbit standing before a hungry wolf.
He felt helpless in the eyes of a predator.
"Akihito," Asami cooed mockingly, "what are you so confused about?"
He coughed in order to stop his tears, "It's nothing," he regurgitated his same old excuse, "It's nothing."
Asami smiled, the menial "it's nothing" remained a totem of control, his control.
It was their safe-word, and Akihito's unspoken permission to allow Asami to ravage his body.
The Yakuza took the opportunity, and claimed Takaba's quivering lips. Akihito's tears rolled onto the older man's cheeks.
OoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooAfter hours of painful, and lustful sex, Takaba had fallen into a peaceful sleep. Like a beautiful butterfly waiting to free itself of it's chrysalis, Takaba remained ever the picture of angelic perfection.
Asami brushed a stand of stray hair out of the boy's face.
He stirred slightly, but other than that, he remained asleep. He wondered what the boy was thinking, what had been so "confusing" that he couldn't even tell Asami.
After the older man received the sex he craved so greatly, he slowly began to consider Takaba's situation. The younger man was clearly upset, the word was written all over his pale face.
But what did Akihito want?
Did he love Asami, or did he want to rid himself of the man's looming presence? Because even to someone as intelligent and cunning as Asami, Takaba remained a puzzle that was near impossible to solve.
Asami stroked Takaba's cheek and sighed.
The photographer was falling apart right in front of him, wasn't he? And he was doing nothing to halt the malicious process.
It wasn't like Akihito communicated his worries to Asami, though. So how was the older man to help? Whenever Asami even suggested prying into Takaba's business, the photographer exploded.
Maintaining a "relationship" with Takaba Akihito wasn't easy, and the photographer certainly never made it simple.
They needed communication, a primary factory they'd been lacking from the get-go. But Akihito wasn't willing to speak, and in fearof what would be said, Asami was never willing to listen.
Sex was his primary mean of control, it was the loose thread that kept their screwed up companionship hanging.
But that's all it was, and they both wanted more.
They needed to speak, because though Takaba leaving was never an option, he would rather live with a bubbly, stubborn photographer, than a shell of the man Asami had grown so fond of.
His world was draining Akihito of his vibrant colors. Asami would just have to paint him once again.
I haven't abandoned my other stories. I just wanted to get this out, and it will be multi-chaptered! Fear not, i'm still working on "Black Sheep", and if all goes well, it should be update by Wednesday, but no later than Thursday. Please enjoy, and tell me what you think. This is different for me! I'm sorry it's so short! Please tell me what you think about the characterization! Show your support by reviewing, I really want to know what you guys think, so please, please, PLEASE tell me!
On a side note, please keep the kidnapped girls from Nigeria in your thoughts and prayers. On a further stretch, i'll pray for you as well.
Have a wonderful week, and God bless!
