Author's Notes: I thought I should make a note about characterization (especially Tohma's) as I consider the direction this fic will take in order to uncover unexplored aspects of the characters.
While Tohma is often regarded as a caring nurturer, I would also argue that he is more than just a little psychologically unbalanced. This is easily seen when he pushes a Aizawa in front of a car (vol. 5, p. 88) and Yuki genuinely believes Tohma capable of murdering Shuichi (vol. 8, p. 129) (Also see my canon Tohma/Eiri proofs posted on Gurabite under the author name "Tenth")

Consider the chapters in "Collateral" to be an extreme portrayal of Tohma's psychosis rather than his sweet side, or if you prefer, a Remix-style AU fic.

Thanks to Aja for reading twice and to everyone who has commented thus far! Your feedback is greatly appreciated!
Nolan

Collateral Chapter 2

Yuki felt numb as he drove toward the Hotel Seiyo. It was a luxury hotel in Ginza, the most expensive district in Tokyo. Tohma spared no expense; that much was certain. A little cuisine and conversation didn't sound so bad but Yuki was still left with a sense of dread.

First and foremost, Yuki was anxious that he was going to lose Tohma as a friend. Tohma had always been poor at hiding his amorous feelings for Yuki and he was maddeningly vague about details for their "arrangement." What if his brother-in-law did something stupid or pushed things too far? Although Yuki feigned disinterest during Tohma's visits, he knew that his brother-in-law was one of the few people he could turn to in a crisis, or at least someone whom he felt understood him. This date might change everything between them, and without Tohma--

Yuki's stomach cramped, bringing the taste of copper to his mouth. Shit. It had only been a week since he'd left the hospital, after his stress-induced breakdown. He had collapsed on the floor of his apartment, vomiting blood. The doctor said no liquor or cigarettes for two weeks and he was supposed to keep the stress to a minimum. Yuki had pushed himself to keep his promised date with Shuichi, but the sour taste rising in his mouth reminded him that this meeting might be one stressor too many.

Yuki dismissed the thought. There was no point in working himself into a frenzy over something that might not happen. There were plenty of perfectly legitimate reasons why Tohma had chosen a hotel of all places. He probably just wanted a place that was more private than a restaurant, but somewhere other than their own apartments so they would not have to worry about their respective partners interrupting.

Just the same, Yuki had decided to bring a courtesy gift for his host. His plan was to counter any of Tohma's attempts at intimacy with exaggerated formality. He figured if he had dressed and acted casually, it would give Tohma a sense of comfort and closeness. Instead, he'd brought a gift and dressed especially neatly to give the impression that he thought of this as a business arrangement rather than a date.

Yuki had already parked and turned off the engine off before he realized he had arrived at hotel parking structure. The clock in the car dashboard told him he was right on time. There was no time to sit and think.

Just go. Get it over with.

Yuki got out of the car.

Tohma's pulse throbbed in his throat and his palms were slick with sweat. He could not remember the last time he'd felt so anxious. Tohma was a god among men in Tokyo; he had complete control in all things, but this plan to reclaim Yuki set him off-kilter. He had everything planned to the last detail, but Yuki's reactions had always been something of a wild card. Tohma could see this evening turning into paradise or disaster and he felt it was entirely up to him to keep things moving in the right direction.

He heard the faint sound of a knock on the door and his heart rate doubled. He wiped his damp palms on his slacks and opened the door. Yuki stood in the doorway wearing unusually sharp-looking clothes and holding a neatly-wrapped present in one hand. He wore a somber expression, but Tohma could see ill-suppressed awkwardness underneath. At least he wasn't alone in his anxiety, Tohma thought to himself. His chest eased and it made it helped return a smile to his face. They were both inhibited, but they would work through it just like any first date.

"Come in," Tohma said, gesturing into the room in welcome. Yuki slipped his shoes off next to Tohma's at the door and stepped inside.

The room's furnishings were decadent, appropriately reflecting Tohma's usual flare for style. The suite was enormous, complete with a recessed living room and an open dining area. The door to the adjoining bedroom stood open, revealing the corner of the bed beyond.

"Here," Yuki said and sullenly and pressed the package into Tohma's hands. Tohma accepted the gift with a warm smile. Unbeknownst to Yuki, he was thrilled to see the author had bothered to dress up for the occasion. He even had the forethought to bring a gift! This encounter might have been something Yuki had been looking forward to, perhaps something Yuki had long hoped Tohma would initiate. Tohma's confidence surged back in full force. He politely set the gift aside to open later.

"Thank you," Tohma said, "Please sit." He gestured toward the dining area. A table there was already dressed in a pristine white tablecloth, a fresh floral arrangement, and twin candlesticks.

Yuki slumped into his seat with all the joy of a prisoner led in shackles. Tohma slid into the plush chair across from him and rested his chin on his interlaced fingers with a warm smile.

As if on cue, one of the hotel staff tapped on the door. Tohma called for her to enter and a woman entered with a service tray laden with covered dinner platters. Yuki instinctively cupped his hand over the side of his face and looked away, pretending to look at the curtains. The woman primly laid the plates before them and Yuki wished he were invisible. How must this look to have two men eating by candlelight in a single bed suite? Any sort of sensible business transaction normally would have been handled in the restaurant downstairs. He suddenly felt like a well-kept whore.

He didn't face the table again until the serving girl bowed to them both and backed politely out the door, and he heard it click shut. When he looked back to the table, he saw she'd brought steaming pewter dishes of kobe veal and marinated artichoke hearts with mushrooms, artistically arranged with a rosemary garnish and served in delicate portions. Under different circumstances, the aroma would have been mouth-watering. Yuki felt sick.

"No wine?" Yuki asked, searching the table with his eyes.

Tohma clicked his tongue and wagged an admonishing finger. "One more week. Doctor's orders." He raised a crystal glass of ice water in Yuki's direction in a silent salute to his health and took a sip. "Are you feeling better yet?"

No. "Yeah," Yuki said. He picked up his knife and fork and began to saw at the veal with all the reluctance and nausea of an intern performing his first surgery. "The medicine is really helping," he lied, "But I can't work so I'm bored as hell." That much was true, at least.

Tohma smiled. "Well, I'm happy to be a diversion for you for a few hours." He took a dainty bite of veal, ground it between his teeth and sighed in pleasure. "How are things with Shindou-san?"

Yuki had been valiantly fighting to appear pleasant—well, civil—but this last comment returned the frown to his face. He did not relish the thought of listening to a sermon about why his boyfriend made an unworthy partner. "Do we have to talk about him?"

Tohma furrowed his pale brow and put on a concerned look as if he found Yuki's reaction unexpected. "Well, I would like to…"

So, in other words, I have no choice, Yuki sighed inwardly. "We're doing fine," he said, "He was really happy when I told him it was just a rumor that Bad Luck was in danger."

"I'm glad," Tohma said. Either he meant it, or he was a perfect mimic of sincerity. "You know, Shindou-san reminds me of you in many ways—how you used to be as a boy."

Yuki raised an eyebrow. It was the most complimentary thing he could remember Tohma ever saying of Shuichi, but he didn't see the comparison. "How do you figure?"

"I don't mean so much in the details," Tohma explained. "It's more his general type-- enthusiastic, devoted, passionate. That's the young Eiri I knew. Perhaps you see your younger self in Shindou now."

"So you're saying I want to date myself?" Yuki snorted in disbelief. "Hn. Not damn likely." Yuki knew no one on earth hated him as much as he hated himself. Despite his surface act of arrogance, Yuki was a desperate self-loather. The thought that he found his own type attractive was ludicrous.

Tohma shook his head. His tone was one of good-natured patience, as a parent explaining something to a child. "I just think that you want to protect Shuichi the way you wish that you could have been protected. What happened back then hardened you, Eiri-san."

Obviously, Yuki thought to himself. How could anyone expect him to go through that experience unchanged? He hesitated only a moment before asking the question that loomed in the forefront of his mind. "Why are you bringing all this up now? I thought you just wanted dinner."

Tohma's face took on a crestfallen look that Yuki seldom saw. He looked genuinely hurt about something. "Suffering in silence is getting you nowhere," he said, "You can't expect your problems to go away if you never address them."

Tohma's voice stayed the same volume, but his voice grew in intensity, even wavering as he spoke as if he struggled to keep himself in check. "You always tell me you don't want to talk about it and out of respect, I've left you alone, but nothing is solved and things only grow steadily worse."

Yuki wondered if Tohma was referring to the relationship with Shuichi when he said "steadily worse." It was no secret that Tohma held no more affection than parchment-thin professional courtesy towards Shuichi. It seemed he could handle Yuki tomcatting around with a different girlfriend every night, but this long-term relationship with Shuichi proved to be his undoing.

"I don't know what you talk to your therapist about or if you even go any more," Tohma continued, "But I want you to have the good life you deserve and that's never going to happen until you work through this. So just hear me out. Trust me. Talk to me. I want to help you."

So that was Tohma's game. This entire date was an intervention of sorts to force Yuki into dialogue about his past, about his current love life. Either way, he was a captive audience and figured there was no help for it but to humor Tohma. Once Tohma was satisfied, he would leave Yuki alone again. He resisted the urge to rub at the throbbing pain in his temples. He would at least have to appear open-minded or Tohma would never let him be.

"All right. So let's hear your theory," Yuki said. Knowing Tohma, he had probably diagnosed this problem and laid out his idea of a solution long ago.

Tohma looked pleased by Yuki's compliance and continued, folding his fingers. "Because of what happened back then, you took on the role of the aggressor so you wouldn't have to be afraid of being the victim again," he began, "Keeping someone weak like Shindou-san at your side can also make you feel comfortably in control. Moreover, it gives you the chance to protect him and care for him the way you deserved to be protected as a boy. You can project yourself onto Shindou-san and enjoy that sense of protection vicariously. It's like therapy for the past; by fixing things now you represent the way they should have been then."

Yuki resented the way Tohma made Shuichi sound utterly replaceable, like anyone remotely like him could have fulfilled the same needs. "So you're saying I'm playing the role of Kitazawa but protecting Shuichi as though he were me?"

Tohma ignored the skepticism in Yuki's voice. "Isn't that why you make him call you 'Yuki'?"

Yuki stiffened. How did he know that? No. It was just a lucky guess on Tohma's part. There was no way he could know that it was a rule he had laid down for Shuichi. "Maybe that's what he prefers to call me. That's the name all my fans use," Yuki said.

"I'd imagine Shindou-san would still prefer to be on a first-name basis if you let him." Tohma shrugged as if the matter were of little importance instead of a deep assertion about Yuki's psychology. "I figured you just like to hear the name 'Yuki' spoken on his lips with love. Like fixing the past with the way you play out the present."

Yuki's stomach cramped when he thought about Kitazawa. Tohma's words immediately made him think of his own words of love that would remain forever unspoken. It was a dream that would go eternally unfulfilled because of his crime against the man he loved, the choices both of them had made that had unraveled one life and ended another.

Memories of gore-splattered walls in New York bobbed to the surface of his mind like floating corpses. Suddenly the smell of the meat in front of him was abhorrent. Yuki pushed his plate away and pressed his fingers against his lips to discourage his meal from rising back up his throat.

There was a light tap on the door that turned both their heads. "I'll get it," Tohma said. He set his napkin on the table and rose from his seat with feline grace. Perhaps he noticed Yuki's earlier embarrassment because this time the server didn't enter.

Yuki took a drink from his water glass. The ice cubes rattled and he noticed his hand was inexplicably shaking.

Tohma returned from the door holding two dessert dishes. "Crème brûlée," he announced proudly, setting a dish in front of each of them.

Yuki regarded the custard joylessly. It used to be his favorite dessert when he lived in New York with Tohma. Since then, he found he had no taste for it, or more specifically the association with that food and that place was too strong. Tohma must have been aware of this, too, because he had never once bought this particular sweet for Yuki ever since they had returned to Japan. Yuki wondered what it meant if Tohma had chosen this dish deliberately tonight. He told himself it was probably just a hotel specialty, to keep from thinking that this could be part of Tohma's idea of 'therapy.'

Yuki picked up his spoon and used it to crack the hard layer of caramelized sugar on the top. Beneath the splintered shell, the virgin paleness of the cream lay exposed like a wound.

"Don't you like it?" Tohma asked.

Yuki felt he would rather eat garbage than a spoonful of dessert, but realized he didn't have much of a choice. Telling Tohma he had an upset stomach on their first date would be about as believable as a student claiming to be deathly ill on the first day of finals.

He slid a small bite of the cream into his mouth. It tasted like damp ash on his tongue but he made a "mmm" noise of approval anyway. He forced a smile that felt shitty and fake.

Tohma smiled back at him and laughed lightly. "Messy," he said. He rose from his seat and drew close to his companion. Yuki knew very well that there nothing on his face but Tohma lovingly brushed the corner of his mouth with his thumb as if wiping away a stray bit of cream there.

All at once, Yuki felt so lightheaded he would have fallen over had he wasn't already sitting. He closed his eyes against another nauseating wave of dizziness. The darkness behind his closed eyes soothed him and his churning stomach eased. He felt the gentle pressure of Tohma's thumb depart from his cheek. A moment later, soft lips pressed at the corner of his mouth instead.

"Eiri-san, are you not feeling well?" Tohma asked in a voice of gentle concern. He lay a second kiss, this time on Yuki's upper lip and smoothed his fingers through Yuki's hair.

What… was in that food? His body felt dizzy, heavy.

"Let me help you," Tohma soothed.

Still feeling dangerously faint, Yuki was so focused on staying upright, he was only distantly aware as soft hands took his and led him toward the bedroom. It was a strange reversal for Yuki. How many times had he led some starry-eyed woman to his bed just this way? Did Tohma feel that same hollow disgust for him that Yuki felt towards the faceless fans who spread their legs for him?

Mercifully, a veil of numbness covered Yuki's body like a man in shock when they arrived in the bedroom. He could barely feel Tohma trailing kisses from the angle of his jaw down across his throat or the fingers that deftly loosened the buttons down the front of his shirt.

"You're so thin, Eiri-san," Tohma gasped as he looked at Yuki's chest. "Is no one taking care of you?" He slipped the shirt down off Yuki's shoulders and it fluttered to the floor.

Through half-lidded eyes, Yuki watched as Tohma slid off his own shirt, revealing a surprisingly muscular frame. Tohma's arms were slender but rippled with underlying strength and his belly and chest were taut with muscle. He looked as strong in body as he was in mind.

Yuki wasn't surprised. Tohma seemed just the type who would keep himself sharp and fit in every way he could. The author suddenly felt pitifully thin and weak by comparison, despite Tohma's shorter stature. Only the fairness of Tohma's skin gave an impression of weakness or frailty. The light dusting of hair on his body was pale enough to be white and his skin was so fair it was nearly albino.

Yuki felt Tohma unfasten the heavy buckle on his belt. A hand brushed the front of his pants to pull down his fly and the weight of his belt dropped his pants to the floor without ceremony. Tohma's hands slid across Yuki's buttocks as he pulled down his underwear.

Tohma drew the younger man into his arms, whispering words of love that Yuki only half-heard. Yuki felt Tohma's fingers gently stroking into his hair and pulling him closer. Tohma carefully sat on the foot of the bed and he drew Yuki down to sit beside him.

"You're so cold," Tohma said, laying his hands on Yuki's numb fingers, "Let me warm you." Still sitting alongside Yuki, Tohma kneaded and squeezed Yuki's palms and fingers. His warm fingers worked the heat back into Yuki's hands and the author closed his eyes with the soothing feel of the massage.

The warm hands strayed to the rest of Yuki's body. One of Tohma's arms curled around the slender swell of Yuki's ribs while the other slid down the side of his belly to caress the top of his thigh, then upward toward his half-erect penis.

It wasn't right. Not this, not with him. Tohma's fingers gripped Yuki's shaft and Yuki put his hand against Tohma's to stop him. "Don't," he said, "Why are you…?" His threadbare words tapered to nothing, his head reeling.

"I only want to take care of you," Tohma murmured, "Like no one else can. Let me show you." While Yuki still sat rigidly upright, Tohma palmed Yuki's erection, sliding downward to caress his testicles, then worked back up and began to stroke him with experienced finesse.

Yuki grit his teeth. In his confusion, he was certain that if he stopped Tohma now, the man would drop Bad Luck and Shuichi without a second thought. Without music, Shuichi would crumble and Yuki would fall with him. Who would he turn to for consolation if he landed on Tohma's bad side? Yuki couldn't handle being alone again, or turning back to the sea of women whose faces he couldn't remember a week later. It wasn't that simple any more. He was on the brink of losing everything, or he could do something simple and save his lover and himself.

"You're the only one who understands me," Yuki breathed.

Tohma groaned at the sound of those words and attached his lips to the angle of Yuki's neck and shoulder, sucking firmly. He worked Yuki's cock with his hand, sliding the loose skin upward at the base of his head and squeezing firmly with each upstroke.

Yuki screwed his eyes shut, hoping to lose himself in the pleasure without thinking about Tohma. He tried to picture Shuichi's hand and mouth working him instead, but it was impossible. Tohma deftly sought out Yuki's pleasure zones as Shuichi never could and the scent of his musk was all wrong. When Yuki tried to picture the source of this pleasure as someone else, it was Kitazawa's arms wrapped around him, stroking him, sucking and biting at his neck.

Sensei…

Tohma was whispering something in Yuki's ear, but he couldn't make out what it was. Soft murmurings, a familiar voice from long ago, back when he knew what it meant to love desperately. His tutor's voice, his idol.

Yuki's body ached and he groaned, feeling the pleasure gather and coil in the pit of his stomach, brimming with reluctant passion. Insistent fingers stroked him firmer, faster, drawing at that pleasure until it spilled over. His whole body tensed, straining to hold it inside, but orgasm crested over him, tossing his seed across his chest and tensed belly in long hot strands.

Sensei!

In that same instant, Yuki felt something deep inside of him break and rise upward. He turned his head and vomited on the floor, narrowly avoiding their discarded clothes. Through half-slitted eyes, he could see it was thick with blood. His vision grayed as he sat upright and fell back onto the mattress. A buzzing sound rang in his ears-- the vanguard sign of a panic attack.

"Eiri-san!" Tohma cried.

Yuki lay limply on his side on the bed, panting like a dog. The comforter beneath his bare skin felt comfortingly soft, but it wasn't solid enough to steady the reeling in his head. The room was spinning, like he was curled up in the center point of a record player.

"Eiri-san! Eiri-san!" Tohma's eyes brimmed with panicked tears and he threw his arms around the crumpled figure. Yuki wondered if it was guilt that put that desperate edge in his voice or if it was the regret of a child who had inadvertently broken his favorite toy.

"I'll call for--!" Tohma started to say. He stood up and took two steps toward the hotel phone, then appeared to think better of it and stopped.

"Stay here!" Tohma cried. He tore the hotel bathrobe off its hanger and threw it around his shoulders as he ran to the front door. "I'll get you something. I'll get help!" Tohma abandoned his usual grace as he hurled himself into the hallway like a man possessed.

The sound of pounding footsteps fading down the hallway grew distant and Yuki closed his eyes in relief at the blissful silence that followed. He wanted to sleep. It would feel so good…

No.

The urge to flee came suddenly. As the depths of Yuki's panic attack subsided, his vision returned and he stirred into action. He felt as weak and helpless as an old man and it took all his strength to sit upright again. His joints felt like brittle rubber bands and he leaned heavily on the bed to steady himself as he rose to his feet.

Once standing, he swayed in place. If the dresser hadn't been close enough to lean on, he would have fallen again. Time was not on his side if he wanted to escape before Tohma returned. He couldn't stand to be seen here like this by whatever help Tohma would bring. Shuichi might catch wind of it. Yuki moved as quickly as his overtaxed body would allow him. He pulled on his shirt and pants and crammed his underwear into his pocket. He gathered his shoes in his hand at the door and staggered out into the hallway with all the grace of a village drunkard.

He took a few steps forward down the hallway, but then careened diagonally until his shoulder cracked against the wall.

Hold together just a little bit longer. Take it slowly.

It took all his concentration, but Yuki managed to walk in a straight line toward the elevators. He turned a few heads of the hotel staff when he reached the lobby, but no one said anything. This sort of thing happened in hotels. With Yuki's clothes flapping half-open and his shoes in his hand, he looked for all the world like an adulterous lover fleeing his mistress's hotel room before her husband found out. A strangled laugh escaped his lips at the thought.