He knew his client of the next night saw the angry bruises on his jaw, the weeping cut on his lip, the nasty welt on the side of his head, the smattering of bruises like possessive fingerprints across his chest. Her gaze lingered on them when Yuki took his shirt off, wincing slightly with the movement.
She said nothing.
He knew she wouldn't.
The others saw too, when he entered the dining room for dinner. They saw how he moved feebly, gritting his teeth against the pain. They exchanged glances. They said nothing. The woman who served Yuki his dinner saw. The bartender he demanded a large whiskey from saw.
No-one said anything. There was nothing to say.
It was just life.
But it was a life Yuki was having increasing difficulty living.
It was like, all of a sudden, he felt too much... far too much.
Whereas previously he had been numb he now felt everything in an overwhelmingly blast.
Spikes of anxiety, fear, misery and guilt pierced him sporadically through the long days and nights.
Sometimes he couldn't breathe at the thought of Akito finding out he had left. There had been so many people in the park that day. So many people. The truth could very easily trickle back to Akito, and then...
He thought of his father's watch... his teddy, and his chest tightened with fear and dread.
One night he awoke from a vivid nightmare in which he slapped a young girl. Even in the dream he knew she was the daughter of the woman from the park. She ran from him and he chased her desperately. Only when he gave up, turning to leave her forever, did she stop and turn. Then her face melted into Tohru's, tears streaming down her flushed cheeks. He left her standing alone in the rain.
Yuki spun into consciousness, struggling for breath.
And he knew he had hurt them both.
He wandered the grounds in the early hours, angry and miserable. He hadn't wanted to tear the family apart. Hadn't wanted to have sex with that guy. He didn't even know who he was; just another anonymous client.
But he had done it. What mattered to Yuki, as he groped his way in the darkness, often stumbling and finding himself on the ground, but not really caring, was that a six year old didn't have her father.
He had never known his father, and now the loss of this girl's was on him. He absorbed this guilt and it fed in him like a giant parasite. He knew he would never be rid of that stain.
Each day he opened his eyes, almost wishing he hadn't, was another day he couldn't see Tohru.
And he knew that was selfish, and wrong. He knew there should never have been a Tohru in his life. He should never have met her. Should never have burdened her with his existence.
But he had. He felt guilty about it, but he had.
And he missed her. Damn he missed her.
Missing her was like a physical wound, so constantly raw yet enduring that it overshadowed all genuine physical injuries he carried.
The weeks trudged by, and Yuki sank ever deeper.
Little things were enough to set him off.
On one of the days he was at the Estate, Ayame had asked with an almost paternal-sounding concern about Yuki's injuries.
"Like you give a shit!" Yuki had heard himself snarl, as he shouldered roughly past his 'brother'.
A week later they were all gathered in the main lounge. It was early-afternoon and most had just woken up. Akito sometimes gathered them in the lounge when he wanted to talk to them all, usually about a change in procedure they needed to be made aware of.
They were tired, and tense. The atmosphere was prickly. Yuki sat by himself, in an armchair as near to a corner as he could. His eyes were glued to the bar, to the glistening bottles of bliss which awaited him the second the meeting was done. He felt rather than saw Haru watching him closely. This annoyed him. Haru was so frustrating sometimes, especially recently, about Yuki having a drink.
Yuki told himself he didn't need to drink. There wasn't a problem there. Haru was obviously wrong.
Another part of him said there was no way in Hell he wasn't having a drink as soon as he could. He thought of the comforting warmth it would bring as it kissed the back of his throat.
He ignored Haru. He could just piss off. Yuki decided he didn't give a damn what he said about it anyway.
He tore his gaze from the bar and looked around. Hiro and Kisa were sitting together. They looked anxious.
As did Ritsu, but he always looked nervous. He annoyed Yuki more than the others. He was old enough to leave the Estate, to work here only part-time. But he didn't. He was too nervous, preferring to stay here until he had fully paid off his debt to Akito. Safe within the boundaries of the Estate. Yuki glared at him across the coffee table. What sort of a person wouldn't leave if they had the chance? He knew he'd be long gone.
Sitting on the other side of Ritsu it was clear Kyo was becoming restless. He swung his legs and stretched his arms above his head. As Yuki watched he saw him too spare a dark look for Ritsu, and wondered if it was possible he and Kyo felt the same about something.
Perhaps he felt Yuki's gaze, for a second later Kyo looked up. His gaze became cold and bitter. Yuki didn't turn away, but held it evenly.
After a moment Kyo seemed to lose interest for he looked away with a smirk. He glanced around before sneering at Yuki. He reached out and selected a newspaper from the collection on the coffee table.
Each day's paper was always available to the clients who used the lounge. Akito also liked for them to read through them; he felt the better informed they were regarding current events, the more stimulating they could be for the clients.
Kyo now shook the paper open in his hands.
"Hmm... lets see what's happening today in the news, shall we?" His voice, already intended to be loud, carried well in the silent room.
His smile was mischievous and wicked. Yuki could almost tell what was coming next.
"Yuki, why don't you read it for us? Let us know what's going on?"
He slid the paper across the table with slow deliberation, where it was met with Yuki's frosty glare. Kyo could barely suppress a chuckle.
In a strange way Yuki understood; these meetings were always anxious. Kyo had merely found a way to channel his nerves.
On the other hand Yuki was livid. He gazed down at the paper, but the words meant nothing to him. He clenched his fist, trying to calm his rising anger. Breathe. He felt the stillness and knew all eyes were on them.
"Does this really make you feel better?" he asked through clenched teeth.
"No", Kyo replied calmly, "But it doesn't make you feel better either, so that's enough."
"Yuki really can't read?" The whisper came from Kisa, her large innocent eyes confused as she consulted with Hiro.
Yuki felt himself blushing. It was fine. He didn't need to react. He was the perfect actor. He could do this...
And maybe he could have, but at that moment Kyo cocked an eyebrow at him, clearly enjoying his discomfort. And all self-restraint disintegrated.
The next thing he was aware of was being dragged off Kyo. Many hands were pulling him, roughly handling his body and causing his healing cuts to split open once more.
He was panting, the anger still coursed through him. The need to hit something... or someone.
He knew he had to leave before he did. He strode furiously through the lounge, away from the gaping faces.
"Ooh what's the matter?" Kyo trilled.
"Piss off Kyo," came Haru's snarled response.
Yuki almost smiled at this, as he let the door slam behind him.
.
After three weeks he was struggling. He clawed desperately through each day, chocking on an invisible noose.
He had almost emptied his drinks cabinet. He was unashamed to admit that he needed more. The clients however, hadn't been as generous lately. They gave him money still, but that was meaningless and worthless to Yuki.
He tried once to bribe Hiro and Kisa's tutor with his tips, in exchange for alcohol. The ugly, bespectacled man had glanced around nervously, hungrily licking his lips in nervous excitement before he refused.
"It's worth more than my job to do that. For you."The venom in his tone had been enough to send Yuki reeling to the bar, where he drank in solitude until the clients arrived.
Eating no longer seemed important to Yuki, and sleeping was often an impossibility his nightmares would not afford him.
One downcast afternoon Yuki was hunched over a bar-stool, smothering his feelings in whiskey. A noise disrupted his musings and he tensed, expecting afternoon clients and ready to grab a bottle and abscond to the garden.
He relaxed when the distinct figure of Kyo bounded through the door. He was dribbling a basketball with some skill, carefully weaving in between the clusters of sofas and coffee tables.
He didn't see Yuki immediately, but after a moment he turned his head suddenly to the bar.
"Hmph. Should have known I'd find you here." he said, as his eyes raked the bountiful bar.
Yuki ignored him, merely taking another satisfying sip of whiskey.
Kyo continued dribbling. He slid open one of the large sliding doors.
"Betcha I can get it in that big plant pot!" He grinned at the challenge. Yuki ignored him.
Kyo dribbled for a few strides before shooting through the open door. Yuki couldn't see the pot in question but he assumed Kyo had succeeded from the whoop of glee. Yuki noticed that Kyo glanced over when he shot, as though to make sure he was watching.
Kyo bounded outside to collect the ball and Yuki returned to his drink. It was childish.
Kyo burst into the room once more, continuing to dribble. This time he stood further back from the door.
"I can do it again!" he boasted, and Yuki saw clearly the child he had known at the Estate, just as abandoned as he was.
Kyo glanced at Yuki to check he was watching before tossing the ball confidently.
Unfortunately in hit the side of the door frame and ricocheted back into the room.
As though in slow motion Yuki and Kyo watched the ball tumble gracefully through the air. Until it made contact with something.
That something was a large antique vase.
Which fell to the floor and shattered into pieces.
Both stared at the broken body of the vase, scattered on the floor. Yuki had forgotten his drink.
The low murmur of voices made them move.
Yuki slid quickly from the chair, as though to be in a better defensible position. Kyo disappeared into the garden, his face pale with fear.
A moment later the door swung open.
Akito entered first.
Following were several clients, a member of staff to serve at the bar, and Kisa, who waitressed for the afternoon clients.
Yuki was frozen where he stood.
Akito's sharp eyes went immediately to the broken vase. Yuki saw how his nostrils flared in anger. He hid it well, turning and smiling to his clients.
"Why don't you get set up with a game of cards? I'll be over shortly." He smiled indulgently at the three clients and nodded at Kisa and the bartender.
Then he turned his attention back to the vase.
"What happened?" he asked, and every syllable was inflected with such a pressure that it came out taut, leaving no room for compromise, demanding an explanation.
For a moment Yuki didn't move. He could almost sense Kyo lurking just outside the door, beyond his vision.
It would be so easy to rat on him. And there was no reason not to.
For some strange reason, Yuki didn't.
"It was me." The words were out of his mouth before he could understand or stop them.
He lowered his head in the face of Akito's anger. "It was an accident, I'm sorry."
There was silence for a moment.
"You seem to be having a lot of accidents lately, my dear." Akito's voice was low and quiet, careful not to let it travel to where the clients were sitting.
"You've been despondent for weeks, going around with that sulky face on." His cold gaze examined Yuki's body and he withered under it. He didn't know what despondent meant but he could hear the restrained anger and exasperation in Akito's voice.
"I don't have time to deal with this right now," Akito continued. He glanced behind Yuki at the glass still sitting on the bar. He smiled slightly.
"No more using the bar during the day. I'll post someone to watch it to ensure you don't get a single drop. The only drinks you'll get from now on will be ones clients buy you in the evenings. That'll snap you out of this, if you have to be charming once more. Now clean this up!"
He strode away to join his clients and left Yuki rooted to the spot.
Was Akito... was he cutting him off? Yuki had come to rely on the bar during the day. Surely Akito wouldn't actually enforce this ridiculous punishment...?
He tidied up carefully, his mind busy. Then he wandered into the garden.
Evening was drawing in, the shadows elongating around him. Kyo was waiting.
"Yuki?" The call was unsure. Yuki turned to its source and found Kyo sitting cross-legged, hidden round a corner.
Yuki walked over, moving his tired legs slowly one after the other... one after the other.
He stopped when he reached him. Kyo seemed to be struggling but after a moment he cleared his throat.
"Thank you."
Yuki nodded. He wasn't sure why he had taken the blame. He only knew that Akito would have punished Kyo far worse than him. Maybe it was a good thing he had done...? He wasn't sure.
He sat down heavily next to Kyo, all the energy suddenly draining from him.
After a long moment Kyo spoke. "Sorry... for the other day... with the paper..."
Yuki shook his head. He was almost too tired to care. "It's alright" he muttered.
He thought for a moment, then added, "Sorry for... jumping at you... or whatever."
Kyo chucked and nodded."It's alright."
He gazed into the gathering darkness.
"I think I've lost my basketball, if it's in there with Akito."
"I lost my shell."
Kyo nodded as though he understood, and Yuki thought maybe he did, better than most anyway.
"Come on, we need to get some dinner."
"I need a drink," Yuki replied. It was hard to tell through the darkness but Yuki thought he saw Kyo raise his eyebrows.
"Well, I can't help you there. Sorry."
Kyo left in the direction of the small dining room. Yuki stayed where he was, until he could see flies dancing around the outside lights.
Their moment of camaraderie was over. It had been unexpected, and brief. Bonds didn't last in this business.
.
Yuki managed a week without the bar before he began to struggle.
It took five days until his drinks cabinet was empty. Then the difficulty began. When his throat burned with thirst he went immediately to the main lounge. He let himself in, but upon turning to the bar he saw that Akito was as good as his word. A member of staff was standing stiffly, diligently by the bar.
Yuki groaned. What was this nonsense? He just needed one drink.
He tried sweet-talking the man, tried bribing him and propositioning him. Nothing worked. He remained impassive, and Yuki suspected he was acting on strict orders.
With a snarl Yuki left the lounge. He would sleep. Then in the evening he would be bought all the drinks he wanted from clients. He had that to look forward to. Sleep was not easy coming. Yuki was restless, with a thirst that could only be subsided one way.
The next day was much the same. He awoke with a pounding head and a raging thirst. He went straight to the bar, marching directly to the guard. Once more nothing worked. He left but returned several hours later, agitated and twitchy.
He tried to distract the guard to steal something, but it didn't work. He tried to fight him, but the guard was stronger, more capable and quickly called for back-up.
Yuki was manhandled outside where he remained on the ground where he had been discarded.
Another night passed. Another session with a client Yuki didn't want to remember, made all the more painful by the absence of his usual blissful numbness. Another nightmare haunted his sleep and he twisted awake with a scream on his lips.
It was too much.
He would have to beg.
He met Haru on the bench in the garden in the late afternoon.
As soon as Haru saw him he shook his head.
"Man, you look like shit."
"Well thanks." Yuki managed, but he couldn't muster any enthusiasm and his sarcasm was flat and strained.
They sat side by side in silence for a minute. Then Yuki decided there was no point putting it off; Haru's scorn would be the same either way.
"Haru, could you... I need... something to drink."
Haru looked as though he had expected as much. He shook his head, looking mildly disappointed.
"Haru please," Yuki continued when he didn't respond, "Akitos stopped me using the bar... I'm out. I'm dry Haru, and I can't- I can't do it!"
"You're a mess" was the first thing Haru said. And Yuki couldn't disagree.
He needed to persuade Haru though. The pounding in his head and the tremble in his hands told him he needed to convince Haru.
"Please. Haru..." Yuki kept using his friend's name, hopeful this would trigger a more sympathetic response."I didn't care about anything before... because I didn't feel it. I-I could deal with and ignore... most things. But now... Haru now it's like... like I felt something- just one thing- and now I feel everything. And I don't want it Haru. I really don't want it. Just some drink Haru- or some of those pills from before, they were good! Come on Haru, I know you can get them from that client of yours and I'll pay you- well, really well! I just need something."
He trailed off, trying to ignore the stutter in his voice. Haru's expression looked softer now.
"I told you not to go." he said, "It's going outside and meeting- was it Tohru? That's what's done this." He still sounded a bit angry.
"I was stupid Haru. I wish I'd never opened myself up. It's made me...weak. You know how good I was before. I just- just didn't feel it so it was fine. But now it's getting harder and harder. It's like," his words caught in his throat and he gulped shakily, "...like every time I have to take my clothes off... it's like the first time."
"You're becoming totally dependent on alcohol. It never used to be this bad... its's really not good."Haru looked concerned, angry, sad. Yuki could tell he was balanced on the edge of making a decision.
"Help me Haru... I'm dying."
Maybe it was the desperation in his tone, or the manic look in his face. It could have been the thinness of his body or the deep shadows under his eyes. Perhaps it was the tears threatening to spill forth from his eyes, or what he had just said.
Either way, Haru agreed.
"I'll get you alcohol, but no more drugs. Those things are nasty and you're not good to be around when you're using them."
Yuki was a little disappointed he wasn't getting drugs, but his body was humming in anticipation of the alcohol.
Haru did just as he said.
He got Yuki a drink from the bar immediately, which Yuki guzzled in seconds. With a disgusted expression Haru told him he had some drink, but he'd only give it to Yuki one bottle at a time.
"Drink it slowly," he instructed Yuki later that day, as he handed him a blessed bottle of vodka.
Yuki nodded fervently, already opening it.
"Thank you Haru," he said between gulps, "You've saved me."
"Hey hey slow down!" Haru scolded.
Yuki nodded and took a small sip this time. He felt a trickle weave its way down his chin. Whether it was vodka or tears he didn't know. He ignored it. He took another drink, feeling the comforting warmth flooding to all parts of his body. It pooled in his mind, cushioning everything, making all his thoughts come easier and less painfully.
"I just want to be numb."
.
A week later Yuki was... surviving. He was living, in the barest sense of the word. After his session with the client he would feel filthy and tainted. He drank himself into numbness or unconsciousness, whichever came first. He struggled awake from nightmares after every time he slept. It was like drowning... drowning again and again without a blessed end being allowed.
Akito told him he would be punished if he refused to eat so he allowed Haru and the others to force him to the dining room table and make him eat. He tasted none of it, but he did eat it.
One afternoon Yuki was sitting outside with a cup of wine. He was vaguely admiring the flowers in the garden. The wine made his thoughts softer and more cheerful, allowing him to become absorbed in the colours of the flowers.
Hiro approached him timidly.
"Erm Yuki? There's a client for you, in the main lounge."
Yuki groaned. The afternoon clients didn't come for sex, they merely congregated in the main lounge, gambling, chatting, drinking tea, having lunch, using the bar. Yuki's bar. It had been a while since his company was requested by the afternoon clients. He sighed. Holding a pleasant conversation with those rich bastards might be difficult today.
But he couldn't refuse.
He got to his feet, still holding the cup, and followed Hiro to the lounge.
He took one last gulp at the door before setting the cup down in the corridor. Then they entered.
Yuki looked around. Kisa was serving drinks to two elderly men who were sitting by the fire, newspapers spread open before them. Was this them?
He turned and scanned the lounge. A small figure was facing away from him, nervously perched on the edge of a leather couch. She turned as he stepped forwards into the room, and he felt as though the ground had given way beneath him.
It was Tohru.
Thank you for reading, and especially for reviewing. They're lovely to read and help me with writing this :)