A/N: Thank you to Kinomi for your thoughtful beta-reading.
Many thanks also to everyone who has gone on the journey,
followed this story, and taken the time to comment. Your feedback is
invaluable.
Nolan
Collateral 5
"You tricked me, you fucker!" Yuki thought to himself bitterly as he stepped out of the cab.
The Far Oasis was indeed a bar, but more specifically, it was a top-floor lounge of an expensive hotel. Perhaps Tohma had not surrendered his sordid intentions after all…
Yuki shook the thought from his mind. He knew Tohma well enough to be sure he wouldn't make a pass at him tonight. Instead Tohma would be set on putting on a warm and friendly face to glaze over their last meeting. Still, the choice of a hotel as a location did not seem like random chance. More likely it was his subtle way of keeping his foot in the door and reminding Yuki that Tohma called the shots.
The lukewarm sounds of light jazz trickled from the direction of the lounge as Yuki stepped out of the elevator on the penthouse floor.
Only a few other couples sat inside the dimly lit room at the tables. It was easy to spot Tohma sitting at the bar, facing the door in anticipation and looking comfortably at home in Armani. Tohma smiled when he recognized Yuki and beckoned him over.
"You're looking well," Tohma commented as Yuki stiffly slid onto the barstool beside him. He must have been commenting on Yuki's health because his clothes—wrinkled slacks and a gray dress shirt—did little to flatter him.
"Thanks," Yuki said. He was guarded, but intended to be civil and play along for now. Being evasive was no use against Tohma. Yuki resolved that if his brother-in-law crossed the line, he would confront him directly man to man. Tohma was more likely to respond to honest assertiveness than trickiness anyway.
"What will you have, gentlemen?" the bartender asked, drying her hands on a towel. She was Japanese with close-cropped black hair and a boyish build offset by dark bedroom eyes and full lips.
"I'll have a vodka martini with Stolichnaya Elit vodka. A little bit dirty and just one olive," Tohma said. "And stirred, not shaken. I don't want any ice chips." He smiled sweetly.
Pretentious bastard, Yuki thought to himself. Particular and spoiled to the last. Did Tohma view Yuki the same way he did his drinks—changeable and made to order? ("I'd like one Eiri trussed and helpless with an order of reciprocated desire on the side.") Tohma was brilliant and powerful, but largely untouched by suffering. After thirty years of living la dolce vida, Tohma only knew about getting what he wanted.
"And for you, sir?" the bartender asked Yuki. Her eyes glittered with subtle interest and Yuki imagined she recognized his face from book jacket covers. There was a look of sensual cruelty in her eyes, a devil-may-care attitude that Yuki would have found desirable in a woman for a one-night-stand. She seemed to be the type who was used to getting what and whom she wanted, but was humbled next to Yuki's air of celebrity. She was too reserved to ask for an autograph, but feasted her eyes on her handsome patrons.
"Double whiskey on the rocks," Yuki said simply.
"Nothing younger than forty years," Tohma added.
"Of course, sirs," the bartender said, flicking her eyes across Yuki again appreciatively. "Will you be paying now or shall I open up a tab?" She addressed Tohma, but her eyes never left the novelist.
"A tab, please," Tohma said.
The bartender fixed their drinks and set them onto cocktail napkins emblazoned with the Far Oasis logo. Yuki was pleased to note she'd been very generous with the liquor. As soon as she set the heavy-bottomed glass down, he immediately picked it up and took a deep swallow. Over the lips and past the gums
Tohma smiled softly to himself and shook his head with pale lashes lowered. He lifted his martini glass in his fingertips and took a dainty sip.
They made mindless small talk for a while. Recent politics, their careers. Yuki sucked down his drink and ordered a second. Tohma's martini was still half full when Yuki had polished off his second double.
Their conversation shifted to books they'd been reading lately. Tohma had just finished Osamu Dazai's 'No Longer Human' and mentioned that Yuki reminded him of the novel's protagonist.
Yuki understood the comparison—a frustrated artist, emotionally stunted to the point of dispassion, sexually abused at a young age, and turned to substance abuse and meaningless sex to bury his troubles. In the end, the main character was even driven to the same illness as Yuki, vomiting blood from stress. Yuki supposed Tohma mentioned it as a cautionary tale—the path of destruction that would befall a man like Yuki without the outside intervention of a concerned mentor. Yuki was skeptical, however. He always thought the character was shamelessly unrepentant, never seeking or intending to correct himself.
Still, it was refreshing to discuss literature with a fellow aficionado. Although Yuki was reluctant to admit it, Tohma was a fascinating conversationalist—a quick wit and similar tastes and observations. Yuki realized they'd never really discussed literature together like this before. Not since he was young and saw the world through eyes veiled with innocence.
Yuki could never talk to Shuichi about things like this, could he? The kid didn't like to read novels and even if Yuki asked him to, wouldn't subtext and allegory go right over his head? Shuichi was a brilliant musician and a passionate lover, but Yuki was resigned to never fully share the literary realm with him.
Tohma probably figured upstaging Shuichi intellectually would win him into Yuki's favor, proving himself a better partner. Yuki set his jaw. If that was what Tohma thought, he was wrong. Yuki had to confess he enjoyed their conversation, but common interest alone did not make him a good romantic partner. Similar interests could make him a good friend, but this blackmail bullshit grated that option into the ground as well.
"Shindou is very excited about the upcoming show," Tohma commented, seeming to change the conversation.
"Oh?"
Tohma nodded slightly. "I want you to know," he began carefully, "That I am extending him every courtesy, treating him more than fairly as long as you keep meeting with me as we agreed."
Yuki nodded. Lately Shuichi buzzed with excitement every night he came back from the studio. Bad Luck was soaring and Shuichi with it. He spent many nights out late practicing and attending publicity events, but the time he spent with Yuki was paradise.
Even as he kept his cool demeanor, how could Yuki help but feel his own spirits shiver and soar while so close to Shuichi's energy? Lately, Yuki often raised his napkin to his lips to hide a smile when they ate dinner together. When they made love, Shuichi burned with fiery abandon that drew Yuki in and ignited in him a long-dormant flame.
Though Shuichi was an incomplete person when his music was taken away, he became superhuman when he was glutted on fame, finally allowed to stretch his wings and burst through the sky into the music industry. Shuichi's exhilaration lifted him. Their elevated happiness almost made it worth the cost of Tohma's backing. "Almost" because Yuki knew things could only get worse.
Tohma waited until the bartender moved to the other end of the bar and began serving other customers before he spoke again.
"You ask too little of life, Eiri-san," he commented lightly.
"What?"
"Why did you roll your eyes when I gave specific instruction for how I wanted my drink served?" Tohma asked. There was no accusation in his voice, just curiosity.
"I didn't—" Yuki began, but Tohma raised a hand to silence him.
"There's nothing wrong with being specific about what you want," Tohma said. He lifted his martini glass to his lips for a delicate sip. The look on his face showed he savored its taste. "I asked for just what I wanted, and I got it. I'll leave a hefty tip in appreciation to the bartender. So where's the harm in it?"
Yuki drew his eyebrows together darkly. A sense of foreboding told him this conversation was going to take an ugly turn. "I just have simple tastes."
Tohma shook his head. "And is that why nothing pleases you?" he asked. "Come now, I'm sure we both know you're not a man of simple tastes. And yet, you always seem to settle for inadequate things that don't satisfy you. Why is that?"
Yuki scowled. He'd been right to see this coming. "Cut the crap."
Tohma nodded his understanding. "Yes, I'm referring to Shindou," he said.
Yuki bristled. "And what gives you the authority to decide who is 'inadequate' for me? You think your tastes are the only right ones? Give me a break."
Tohma smiled to himself, that goddamn self-confident look he wore so well. "I look at Shindou, and in him I see the face of every devoted fan who ever loved you," he said. "He's desperately in love with you, but you know that. Dozens of people have loved you as fanatically as he does and you can recognize that obsession in an instant. He would do anything for you."
"And there's something wrong with that?" Yuki demanded.
"It's not a lack of devotion;" Tohma said, "It's the lack of anything else that worries me. He's no different from any other devoted fan who is more obsessed with your image than the man beneath. The needs he fulfills in you could be just as easily met by one of your devoted readers or that ex-fiancé of yours."
"That's a pretty crude statement," Yuki said darkly. "You already assume all my fans are alike."
Tohma shook his head. "It's not that they're alike, but more that they're not different enough."
"What the hell do you know about it?"
"Did I hear correctly from Mika that Shindou actually wore a dress to your father's temple when you were to be married to Ayaka?" Tohma asked innocently.
Yuki frowned. If anything, that would set Shuichi apart. "Yeah. So?"
"That's exactly what I'm talking about," Tohma said. "If you want him to be a woman, he'll become a woman for you. If you told him to be more studious, I'm sure he's start reading. If you told him to fall to his knees on a public street corner and bark like a dog, I'm sure he'd do that, too."
Yuki scowled. Partly because he knew it was true. He knew Shuichi would do damn near anything to please him and stay together with him, but that just proved his devotion; it was no mark of shame. "Even if that's true, so what?"
A hint of frustration crossed Tohma's face. "That's not the way it should work," he said. "Shindou is malleable, like clay. He'll take any shape you want him to, anything to please you. Many of your other fans would do the same, even change their very personality to better suit your mood that day. But that's not love, Eiri. That's not finding a partner; that's just a doll that will parrot back the words you want to hear."
"You're wrong. There's more to it than that." Yuki's fingernails dug into his palms, his knuckles white with clenched anger.
"Is there? I won't even ask what else you have in common with Shindou because I'm afraid to watch you stumble for an answer."
"Shut up." Fists shaking slightly now.
"He will happily mold into whatever you want him to be, but any fan can do that. Love isn't about finding a partner of clay—"
"Shut the fuck up!"
"—It's about finding someone who actually understands you, who clicks with you from the start because their own personality meshes well with yours. Someone who is willing to stand up to you rather than blindly conform to you. Someone who sees the man beneath the exterior. I don't see any of that in him."
"You're wrong." Yuki said the words and believed them.
He burned with fury inside, but he did not argue or try to explain himself. Tohma wouldn't listen to reason anyway; he was already convinced he was right. Even if Yuki gave iron-clad proof that Shuichi was different, that the two of them were naturally compatible, Tohma would simply deflect every argument and argue further.
Besides that, Yuki found he couldn't quite think of any good points to dispute at the moment. It wasn't that Tohma was right; it was just that Yuki was too damn angry to think clearly. Somehow, hearing Tohma insult Shuichi made Yuki more enraged than if Tohma had been insulting him.
"There is one other thing," Tohma said carefully, "That convinces me your current relationship does not fit you."
"And what's that?" Yuki snapped.
Tohma considered his next words in silence for a moment, his fingers steepled and pressed to his lips. "I don't believe you're on the right side of control if you understand my meaning."
Yuki blinked. Tohma sighed. "I'm loathe to mention his name," Tohma said, "But the only comparison I can draw is to the one man I know you loved." Yuki was stunned to hear Tohma bring up Kitazawa of all people to prove a point. It was no secret that Tohma loathed Kitazawa more than the devil himself.
"Your feelings for him were not like your feelings for Shindou. Quite the reverse really," Tohma said.
Yuki narrowed his eyes. "You mean who's doing the screwing and who's getting screwed?"
Tohma closed his eyes. "If you want to put it crudely." He took a drink from his martini.
"That's ridiculous!" Yuki said, struggling to keep his voice low. A faint blush of anger and embarrassment rose to his cheeks.
"Is it?" Tohma asked calmly.
"I was just a stupid kid. What did I know?" Yuki snarled. His feelings for Kitazawa all those years ago were a result of temporary inexperience, not a natural inclination towards submission.
"You were a smart boy," Tohma said. "I think you knew quite a lot. Including what you wanted. I saw the real you then--a brilliant and gentle person who wanted to be loved fully. It was only after what your tutor did to you that you changed. He interrupted your natural growth and what you've been doing since is running away and protecting yourself, not once taking what you truly want from love."
Yuki's angry blush darkened. "That's the biggest load of crap I ever heard." An image rose in his mind of lying on his back on white cotton sheets with arms outstretched and Kitazawa settling above him… Yuki angrily shook the thought from his mind. What a load of crap!
Tohma said nothing. Yuki finally broke the silence for him. "So that's what this is all about, then?"
"At the heart of things," Tohma said, "I suppose it is."
Yuki made a sound of disgust in the back of his throat.
"That is why I tell you the truth when I say I don't care if you don't end up with me," Tohma said, "But I can't stand idly by and watch you languish with a lover like Shindou. The sort of love that he can offer is not the kind that would ever satisfy you. Nor will you find what you're looking for up the skirts of the countless women you've bedded. You already know what you want. It's only the fault of circumstance, of what that man did to you, that you're too afraid to claim it."
Yuki was struck with a dark epiphany. "That's what this is about," he said.
Tohma nodded.
All of it. The forced dates, the crawling seduction in the hotel. Tohma was convinced that Yuki wanted to be a submissive, receiving partner in his relationships but was too scarred by Kitazawa to pursue it. Tohma genuinely believed that he was helping Yuki break through some emotional inner barrier by forcing him into a submissive role.
Tohma thought Yuki would never find love in women, Shuichi, or any passive lover, and he was so convinced of this fact that he would go to any lengths to prove it. Suddenly, Tohma's words about wanting to 'cure' Yuki 'by any means necessary' floated to the surface of Yuki's mind like a bobbing corpse.
"This is never going to be over…" Yuki said. He looked at Tohma with the wide eyes of a field mouse staring at a swooping owl. "You're never going to leave me alone until—!"
Tohma cocked his head, pretending not to understand. He understood all right. He understood and now Yuki did too, that Tohma would never be content until he saw Yuki play the part of the sexual submissive, returned again to the wide-eyed helpless boy from before Kitazawa's betrayal. There was no doubt in Yuki's mind that Tohma intended to be the one to do it.
It was madness! Worse than simple desire, Tohma in all his egomania had sincerely convinced himself that this was what Yuki wanted. He truly thought he was helping, inducing an emotional breakthrough by forced submission. Worse still, Yuki knew better than to believe Tohma's words that he didn't care whether or not Yuki ended up with him. Yuki knew that Tohma was not the type to suffer rejection lightly; he would not be content with seeing Yuki underneath him once. He was convinced he was the ideal partner for the future as well.
The situation was sick. Yuki felt sick. His body, even his face, felt suddenly numb and bloodless. He couldn't stay. He stood and staggered back from the bar. His bar stool clattered to the ground and every head in the lounge suddenly turned to face him.
Yuki's cheeks burned with rage and humiliation, flaring hotter under the scrutiny of all those eyes. He didn't dare lift his gaze to look at Tohma. He was sickened by the very thought of what he might find there.
Struggling to look composed, Yuki walked out of the lounge, moving more briskly once he was out the doors and Tohma let him go without slipping in the final word.
Yuki mashed his thumb against the arrow pointing down to call the elevator and allowed himself to breathe hard and shaky once he was alone inside. On the ground floor at last, he rushed outside and sucked in breaths of cooling night air.
It was impossible. Yuki's mind would not close around what Tohma expected of him. Instead, he thought only of the singer waiting for him at home and how he would get there. He would call a cab. As simple as that…
He took a few steps toward the street, when he heard a familiar voice call out his given name in a foreign accent. "Eiri Uesugi?"
Yuki turned to see the dark, smiling eyes of a face from his past he had not seen in nearly a decade. "Nikolai…"
