And in his regret, Yao sobbed.
"Listen to me! You need to stop! Your Braginski or whatever the hell he's called is coming very soon! I will not lose a customer because you're too stupid to recognize your own brother!"
Only more cries of unfettered pain.
"Yao!"
"He's gone! He's gone and he was right there! I saw him…" A choke. "I saw him…"
"Be quiet! Get up and prepare yourself! I'll beat the addiction out of you, you goddamn whore!"
"Hong…"
The Englishman held true to his words, as he always had, and knocked the distraught beauty across the face with a beaten palm, placing him against the frothy sheets with even more tears welling within his eyes.
He became hysterical and Mr. Kirkland gave away his determination, walking past the Japanese doll standing so patiently by the door way, and regarded him with those exhausted emeralds.
"…Can you fix this, Kiku?"
"No…I doubt highly that I'll be able to say anything that will make him stop."
"Well…That's just peachy."
"What are we going to do about Ivan?"
The blond took critical seconds to feed the monster living within his mind, his lower lip skinned and his mouth slightly opened. "…Would you mind keeping him company while Yao calms down?"
"No. I wouldn't mind."
"Alright."
"Don't worry, Mr. Kirkland. I doubt that Ivan will leave for good…I'm sure he'd actually like to see Yao…I might not have to entertain him for long."
"You're probably right."
"I certainly hope so…"
That youth was once again assigned a soft touch, although he had done nothing to request it.
And when that Russian man arrived directly upon his schedule, greetings were given from the foul mouthed Englishman with the grown kokeshi at his side.
Ivan carried within his careful arms a gift wrapped within lovely paper and a bottle of a certain type of alcohol, although Kiku, nor Arthur, could decode the Cyrillic lining the bottle's brow.
"Hello, Mr. Kirkland." A slight bow of the head. "Kiku…"
"Hello, Mr. Braginski."
"Is everything alright?"
"Well…At the moment, Yao is somewhat…preoccupied." The monster with lush eyes was first to give explanation. "And I apologize…But while Yao is getting himself ready, Kiku would be delighted to keep you company, of course, at no expense."
"What is he busy with?"
The wailing could not be heard so many floors below.
"He hasn't managed his time correctly and is unsightly." It wasn't necessarily a lie.
"Ah…I see. Well, I don't mind being patient."
"Wonderful. I'm sorry for the inconvenience."
"It's alright. Sometimes these things cannot be controlled."
"…I'll alert you when Yao is ready."
A nod from either party and a missing Brit.
For a moment, the Russian and the Japanese boy, so small in comparison, regarded one another, both mouths barren of what words to offer.
"Well, Mr. Braginski, what would you like to do for the time being?"
"Perhaps talk…Do you have anywhere you would like to sit?"
The smaller gave confirmation in the nodding of his head. "Please follow me."
The Russian was led out into the garden, so wondrous in the light of day, hues popping from all the places upon the grass and the trees all seeming to sigh happily while bathed in that light and comforting breeze. Their feet shifted softly through compliant blades of emerald and took places upon that stone bench placed so pleasantly beneath that singing tree.
Ivan allowed his items to his side, the container of odd liquor sitting as a trophy upon the paper chest's brow.
"Are those gifts for Yao?"
"Oh, yes…"
"May I ask what they are?"
"If you promise not to tell him about them; certainly." The pale man placed a small grin against those fresh lips.
"Of course not…It's not in my place to say a word."
A silent nod. "This bottle…" That large palm wrapped around the neck of that container as one would hold a deceased chicken. "It's vodka."
"Vod…Ka? Is that how you say it?"
"Yes. That's right." The glass lied amongst the fingers demanding the suns golden grace, and the box constructed of heavy paper and careful wrapping was adopted. "And this is a dress…I really hope that Yao likes it."
"I'm sure he will…Yao enjoys most any kind of gift…"
And for a moment, silence took their communication.
"Kiku, what really happened?"
"…With your appointment?"
"Yes…Usually, he's exactly on time…And considering our growing friendship…It's not because of me, is it?"
"Oh no! No…Not at all. He almost never stops talking about you."
"Does he…" The man with those deep azure eyes trailed off a lengthily moment. "Does he speak of anyone else in that way?"
"No. he hasn't in a very long time…" The syllables needed great order before they spilled within the air. "I think in order to explain this properly, I should tell you something of my brother…Would you mind listening?"
"No, please…Go ahead."
"Well…When I was very small, there used to be another child who lived here...And he was Yao's sibling…Mr. Kirkland and he had gotten into a fight about something or other, and to get Yao back for his harsh words, Mr. Kirkland had sold Hong to another whore house…"
The Russian's expression filled with mild disbelief and disgust.
"He would do such a thing?"
"Yes…I believe he's capable of far worse than that…But anyway, after Yao found out that his brother had been given to someone else, he nearly beat Arthur to death with a camera that was sitting inside his room…And the day after…" Kiku was unsure of how to continue, knowing the words that would come next were truly not meant to be his, and should not be set free by his own tongue.
"Yes…?"
"And the day after, Yao began to smoke opium…And he hasn't stopped since."
Their bodies lingered in the silence set around them, and all that the smaller had just said seemed to leak in through the tiniest of pores and had the texture of honey. The Russian had become something horrified, but he bore his thought's weight with a closed set of lips.
"Yesterday, his brother somehow found Mr. Kirkland and returned…But when he arrived, Yao was too intoxicated to even see him…And he had changed so drastically, he probably didn't recognize him at the time. But he realized what had occurred and he's been crying the last hour or so…I'm guessing Mr. Kirkland is trying to get him to stop so he can see you."
"…That's terrible…He's likely in no mood to see anyone."
"No. But I'm certain he would like to see you." A quick furrow of brows and a sympathetic smile.
Welcome to the Crimson Lily Pavilion, Mr. Braginski. It's hell upon earth.
"I'm sorry if I've said too much…If you feel that you can't come back…The very least you can do is say Good-bye to Yao. He has a very high opinion of you."
"I'll certainly be coming back…But I'll likely take time to think about everything you've just said to me."
"Of course."
"…But for the time being, I would like to see Yao."
"I'm not sure if you can…Mr. Kirkland…" Again, moments ticked by lost in essence of a great tangle of thoughts. "I don't think I'll be able to come with you…But I doubt anything awful will happen if you go yourself…You can tell Arthur that you were becoming impatient, if you wouldn't mind doing so…"
"Oh, yes…I don't want you to be in any trouble. Thank you for telling me the truth."
A nod and a Russian placed upon a cardinal mission, all his equipment in hand and determination whirling within his blood.
Ivan, with a small concentration of difficulty, located that long flight of awful stares and went upwards, all of those heavy footsteps moaning having no meaning now that something far more than himself rested within his large hands.
He located the lovely man's chamber, and found fragments of sorrow to leak from the slightly gaping screen. There were no signs of that belligerent Englishman, and gently, his palm came to that portal and easily tore an entrance from the compliant sliding of the door from the frame. As he entered, his feet were calm and he observed the scene at hand a long moment before placing the gifts to that broken deity at a near proximity to his left ankle.
His very body filled with the horror that had become that man.
Yao was sitting upon the edge of his bed, his face knocked from its pleasing gold to all sorts of violent hues, his lip torn to the point of blood and his eyes battered shut. He looked as if he would offer his consciousness to someone far kinder, but those eyes were attentive, however dark they were painted, and they set a gentle gaze upon the Russian's broad shoulders.
"Hello, Ivan…"A low voice cracked, the barer well aware of his unattractive bruises and the stream of blood sitting upon his chin. "I'm sorry…"
"I'm sorry as well, Yao…" The pale man drew nearer to the shattered jewel, almost as if he moved too quickly, the fragments would become even more condescended. "Did Arthur do this to you?"
"Yes…But I think this might be the one time I brought it upon myself."
"Don't say that…" A small bought of noiseless conversation. "Kiku told me what had happened."
"He did?" There was another set of seconds dissolved in painful silence. "Are you going to leave me?"
"No. I'm not…"
Yao wiped a bit of crimson away from his pounding lips. "…Did you know that the day I met you I was contemplating killing myself? I was certain that if our appointment went badly, I would hang upon the tree outside…"
"Yao…"
"I'm beginning to think that I was selfish in not doing so…" A few more tears came from those blackened eyes, welling upon magenta cheeks. "Because now I want you to stay…But you're far too good for me, and I'm certain you know it…Look at me. You don't deserve to be subjected to this sort of relationship, although I'm beginning to love you…"
"On the contrary. I paid for it."
Yao removed crystalline emotion with cautious and stuttering finger blades and regarded his darling Russian.
"You're plenty good enough…But you need to stop smoking opium...It's not good for you."
"I know."
"I have no intentions of leaving…because I love you too. Even if it hasn't been the longest time, I do…and I have."
Moments of quiet tears and a diverted stare.
"I'm sorry I don't know what to say…"
"That's alright…Please come closer."
Ivan listened and Yao stood, wrapping his companion in a ruined embrace while he was donned those strong arms.
"I'm sorry, Ivan…"
The larger had nothing he could say; he only held his bloodied lily still as the most priceless of diamond. His innards were still something well unsettled, thought brushing past the walls of his stomach as sharks with skin the texture of a jagged stone. Those boundaries were littered in tiny cuts, and slowly he would bleed to death. What could he say? Perhaps all his words would simply convert to absolute nonsense. For only a short amount of time, it did not hold pertinence.
Sometimes, words were not cardinal for comfort.
The two stood there and held one another, those moments captured by either party both beautiful and unsettling.
Neither knew what their minds should have contained, but either found home within that embrace,
And the one thing Mr. Braginski was certain of was his return.