Author's Note: So… originally this chapter had a lot more that happened in it, but if we had posted it in one chapter the length would have just been obscene. So we chopped it in half. Don't worry—nothing was taken out. It was just made into two chapters. :) More to come soon!
Chapter 11
Embarrassment, Ritsuka thought, would always be the plush apartment of Soubi Agatsuma. Inside these walls he had met Natsuo and Youji, taken up the offer of rent-boy, and lost his virginity to a man who went through sex like he went through cigarettes. Now, in the late hours of a Thursday night, the moon full and silver outside the bedroom window, Ritsuka slipped out of bed, holding a silken peach sheet around himself like a cape. His toes had barely touched the Persian fibers of the carpet when Soubi hummed thoughtfully.
"Ritsuka, do put on that one-piece again."
Ritsuka closed his eyes and inhaled silently. With his back to Soubi, he had a moment to internalize the exasperation he felt. The one-piece was none other than that ridiculous bejeweled, peacock thong Soubi had given him as a "gift" weeks ago.
Without turning around to face Soubi, Ritsuka let the peach sheet fall soundlessly to the floor. Soubi had seen him wearing nothing at all more times than Ritsuka cared to admit at this point. What was modesty, really, in the end?
The thong was hanging off the corner of one of Soubi's nightstands and Ritsuka grabbed at it. Soubi had an almost obscene interest in the thing. Scratch that, it WAS obscene, which Ritsuka supposed was kind of the point. He yanked it on in quick bursts of frustrated energy.
"There. Satisfied?" he demanded, turning around to look Soubi in the face.
Soubi's eyes narrowed, lips curling up at the edges like the Grinch. "Not yet, but something tells me I will be later."
Ritsuka rolled his eyes.
"I'm feeling up for tea just now, though, Ritsuka." Soubi continued. "There is a pot in the kitchen and some Earl Grey in the cupboard in the corner." The command in his words was very clear.
Barely suppressing the urge to make a mock-bow, Ritsuka pivoted and left the room, beads of bright gold, hot blue, and acid green bouncing against his hips in tasseled strings.
The flat screen in the living room was on but muted, the picture showing a news broadcast that Ritsuka had no interest in. He located the remote and clicked it off. There wasn't any hope of returning here for a nice, non-physical evening of law-drama shows. Soubi seemed to be obsessed with them, especially the lawyers. Ritsuka had a particular interest in them as well, since it was directly related to Seimei's career.
It had been ten days since Ritsuka had seen him on that narrow road, ice-cream dripping down his wrist. Soubi had packed a small suitcase for Ritsuka that day, and it was waiting by the foot of the stairs when they had gotten back to The House. He had been momentarily alarmed, thinking he was finally being tossed back into the street. In reality, Soubi had wanted him back at the apartment for a while.
"Light duties," he had said dismissively when Ritsuka had pressed him for answers.
As it turned out, "light duties" consisted mainly of organizing the study and the library room and keeping Soubi in steady supply of sex. Ritsuka couldn't say he was particularly put off by this; sex with Soubi had become somewhat of a necessary routing in his life. Brush teeth, eat breakfast, make the bed, have sex. What difference did it make, really? He had to do it if he wanted to stay and at least Soubi kept himself clean and was relatively handsome.
Little did he know, however, that Ritsuka had basically mastered the far too few tips that Kano had shown him, and when he closed his eyes he could almost believe it was Seimei's teeth grazing along his shoulder or breathing hard against the sensitive nape of his neck.
Almost being the operative word there. Soubi didn't have Seimei's polite, disarming voice or his particular haunting good looks or his exquisite touch. It was just that Ritsuka's imagination was above-average.
Soubi's kettle was like the rest of his apartment: stylish and almost utterly devoid of personal touch. It was made of gleaming stainless steel, with a brushed nickel handle. Ritsuka busied himself filling it with water and setting it to boil. Better to do something productive than to dwell on what (or rather, who) he didn't have right now.
His time apart from Soubi was far too short. Even before the kettle whistled he was striding into the kitchen and lowering himself into a chair at the table. A green silk robe hung loosely from his shoulders, glasses perched delicately on the bridge of his nose.
Ritsuka could see what Kio found attractive in him. He thought whatever physical blessings Soubi possessed were utterly wasted, though. Increasingly Ritsuka found himself annoyed by Soubi's general personhood, and angered by specific details of his behavior – namely, that he treated Ritsuka like an indentured servant.
"I'm sure that tea is more than steeped by now, Ritsuka," Soubi murmured. He gestured to the kettle, to which Ritsuka had added an ample amount of tea leaves.
Biting back irritation, Ritsuka turned off the gas burner and brought the kettle to the table, a burgundy oven mitt wrapped around the handle. Silently, he filled the two teacups that had already been set out before Soubi had whisked him off into the depths of the bedroom.
Soubi reached for the sugar jar. "Will you take it sweet tonight?"
"Sure," he answered, returning to sit across from Soubi once the kettle was back on the cooling stove.
Not wanting to push his luck, Ritsuka hadn't asked about his probation since arriving at the apartment last week, and Soubi hadn't volunteered any updates. Ritsuka would watch his expression for any signs that he was about to loosen his unnaturally firm grasp, but there was nothing to be learned in the face that was always so carefully neutral. Ritsuka had stopped looking days ago as the hours endlessly unfurled.
So it was surprising when Soubi cleared his throat and asked, almost too gently, "Ritsuka, how would you feel about taking on a client within the next few days?"
Cup raised half to his lips, Ritsuka paused in momentary confusion. "I'm off probation?"
"Not quite." Soubi squeezed the juice of a thinly-sliced lemon wedge into his teacup. Ritsuka waited patiently for him to go on. "I'm not yet comfortable allowing you the freedom of the Street, but I've spoken to a good client of mine about you and he's very interested in your services. This would be a special order in which a car would be arranged to pick you up and you would be brought back to my residence." He paused to take a sip. "I daresay you will find him more than agreeable company."
Ritsuka didn't know what to make of this. On the one hand, he was eager to get out of this cage Soubi called a "residence." On the other hand, Ritsuka didn't find the idea of servicing another client particularly appealing. And who knew what Soubi's idea of 'agreeable company' really was?
In the end, what choice did Ritsuka have? It was either service this client or refuse. If he refused, Soubi would either keep him in the apartment for more "light duties" or would extend his probation; or both. And none of those options sounded like good ones. If Ritsuka agreed to do the job, maybe Soubi would be appeased with his good behavior and shorten the probation, or end it all together. Ritsuka might even be wise to feign affection for this new client – throw off Soubi's suspicion that he was attached to Seimei.
But on second thought, it was no good. Soubi would spot Ritsuka's dishonesty. He was good at reading others. It was how he'd gotten Ritsuka into this line of work in the first place, and how he'd known that Ritsuka was enamored with Seimei in more than a profession capacity. And even if he didn't, Ritsuka didn't trust himself to be capable of keeping up the act for very long. Seimei consumed him, day and night. Acting wouldn't hide that. Ritsuka thought he should be scared of Seimei having such a hold on him, and so quickly too, but he wasn't. He honestly, truly, wasn't afraid. Worried that it wouldn't work out? Sure. Worried that Seimei would never feel the same? Definitely. Worried that Soubi would keep him separated from Seimei indefinitely? Yeah. But he wasn't afraid of what his heart held for Seimei Aoyagi.
"You seem to be deep in thought. Do tell." Soubi said mildly, interrupting Ritsuka's musings.
Rather than acquiesce to this request, Ritsuka replied, "I'll see this client of yours. When did you tell him I was coming?"
"Such presumption that my client is male," tsked Soubi. "It's not unheard of for the fairer sex to call for my House's services, you know."
Ritsuka blanched.
Soubi chuckled. "Well, any uncertainty I might have had about your orientation has been firmly laid to rest. Worry not: this particular one is very surely of the masculine persuasion. And he is expecting you soon. Valentine's day, to be exact."
"He can't be much of a charmer if he has to buy a date for Valentine's day," Ritsuka mused. "Or much of a looker. Please tell me he showers on a regular basis."
"You must forgive me for my lack of foresight on your behalf. When you were first being introduced to clients, I should have been more selective to help ease you into the process. You're more high-strung than the rest of the boys; your luck on having been taken in by Aoyagi very first client and then the counter-luck of being forced into the company of Mr. Takahashi has skewed your view of the business. For that I deeply apologize." He patted Ritsuka's arm. "It's no wonder you've developed a certain fondness for Aoyagi considering the only other client you have to compare him to. But I assure you that he is not the only dashing client I have. Most are quite pleasant. You can ask any of the boys."
Ritsuka wasn't sure exactly where Soubi was going with this. He was apologizing for Mr. Taco Grease Takahashi, and actually sympathizing with him on his feelings for Seimei? He didn't trust it and decided to remain quiet. Eventually Soubi would have to get to the point and then Ritsuka would decide whether or not it was worth having a tantrum about.
Soubi finished mixing the lemon and sugar into his tea and tapped the spoon against the ledge to remove the remaining droplets. "I knew you'd be concerned about trying out another client, which is another reason for your probation. It allows me to better monitor and tailor to your situation. I want you to see just have pleasant new clients can be. So please look over his profile."
He pulled a manila folder out of his robe and slid it across the table toward Ritsuka, who stared down at it with a mixture of confusion and reluctance. Soubi didn't seem to understand that Ritsuka wasn't interested in other clients because he had a personal investment in Seimei. Because Seimei was his beautiful stranger, his gallant knight, his hero when he had been down and out on his luck and all his hope had vanished. Ritsuka liked everything about Seimei, but a profile of anyone—even Seimei himself—couldn't compare to the feeling Ritsuka carried inside of him. Nothing about Seimei could be manufactured or reproduced in someone else.
Still, he flipped open the file and began scanning the contents:
The first thing that caught Ritsuka's eye was a photograph paper-clipped to the top left corner. The man shown in it looked a bit like Seimei, Ritsuka was startled to discover. His hair was black like Seimei's, but shorter, and lacking the hint of curls. His eyes were clear and rounded, cheekbones high. He even had a relaxed smile. He was handsome all in all.
Ritsuka didn't care. He scanned the rest of the profile.
Tokino Fujiwara….single, 27 years old…an orthodontist practicing locally…blah, blah, blah
Ritsuka sighed. Soubi didn't get it. He thought he could distract Ritsuka from Seimei just by showing him the profile of some relatively handsome and successful random guy?
Then something else in the profile caught Ritsuka's attention. This 'Tokino Fujiwara' lived only one block away from Seimei! Did Soubi miss that? Did he perhaps think Ritsuka wouldn't notice?
Maybe Soubi just assumed that even if Ritsuka DID notice, that he wouldn't have the guts to use the information. If so, Soubi had BADLY underestimated him.
Careful to leave his expression of bored neutrality in place, Ritsuka shut the folder with another sigh.
"So. Valentine's day with someone who sticks his hands in other people's mouths for a living. I can hardly wait," he said sarcastically.
Soubi's smile seemed to freeze in place. "I'm afraid you aren't too favorably impressed, and yet the finicky sir failed to hide his pleasant surprise at Mr. Fujiwara's photograph. He's quite handsome, wouldn't you agree?"
"He's handsome," Ritsuka said offhandedly, and took a sip of lukewarm tea. It had cooled fast; Soubi liked to keep the apartment slightly chilled. "I just find it hard to muster up any sort of excitement over someone I haven't even met. He might be smelly."
"You're certainly obsessed with odors."
"You must never have met Mr. Taco Grease Takahashi in person or that would be your most pressing concern when adding newbies to your super special list."
Soubi looked momentarily stunned by this blatant insult to his client, then burst out laughing. Ritsuka started at the unexpected sound. "Yet another thing I believe you will adore about Mr. Fujiwara! His sense of humor is very much intact. I assure you that you'll find his personal hygiene up to par."
Ritsuka snorted. "If you say so."
Soubi picked up his teacup and drained the last of it, setting it down with a satisfied clink. "I do say so," he said. "I really do."
Soubi kept up most of the conversation after that, chatting idly about plans for the day and improvements he was going to make to the House (something about installing new recessed hall lights, Ritsuka wasn't really paying very close attention). He seemed to be in an entirely better mood than he had been in quite a while, at least since discovering that Seimei had chosen Ritsuka twice in a row. But it was hard to read Soubi on the best of days. Ritsuka wondered if it were possible that everything he did was some sort of elaborate act. Sometimes he got the feeling that the only person who knew what was really going on inside that head of his was Soubi himself – or maybe Kio.
The plans Soubi had made for Ritsuka's peacock thong made themselves known quite clearly soon after that, when Soubi requested that Ritsuka bend himself over the kitchen table. Ritsuka endured the encounter with a surprising amount of detachment. So much, in fact, that he was pleased with himself for learning Kano's method of thinking of intimacy like a job and nothing more. But after that thought, Ritsuka felt ashamed of himself, and faintly nauseous.
"I'll be leaving early in the morning," were Soubi's parting words as he disengaged himself, barely having given himself a chance to catch his breath. "Pleasant dreams."
Ritsuka watched him retreat back into the confines of the master suite without a word more. When the door clicked shut, Ritsuka sagged against the table with a sigh. Probation was exhausting. He couldn't understand why so many of the boys spoke of it like it were some rejuvenating vacation. Although, it was possible that Soubi was making extra allowances for himself where Ritsuka was concerned. Kio had said that Soubi was particularly fond of him, although Ritsuka just didn't see it.
After a bath-which had become habitual for him after "entertaining"-Ritsuka dressed himself in comfortable cotton pajama pants and a faded T-shirt with Domo on the front. He wasn't sure exactly where it had come from, but he had found it in the suitcase Soubi had packed and liked it better than his peacock getup.
Then Ritsuka ventured into the "guest bedroom" (or "library" or "drawing room" or "study"…whichever word Soubi happened to be calling it at any given time). The room was dimly lit and empty of any human company, which were the only two things Ritsuka cared about in a room right now. Those, and the special something hidden in one of the bookcases.
Ritsuka had to pull a nearby ottoman over to reach it. He stood on tiptoe, balancing precariously. The special something was hidden on the topmost shelf – because Ritsuka had assumed the highest shelf would be the last place someone would think to look for it. He wasn't very tall, after all, and not much of a climber.
But he was resourceful (hence the ottoman) and at last he reached it: a heavy, thick book bound in old leather. The title on the cover was printed in gold leaf: The Tale of Genji.
It was a classic work of Japanese literature that Ritsuka had read excerpts of for his studies, and he remembered liking it, but he never did get around to reading it in its entirety. When he had first noticed the book as he was organizing, it had given him a pang somewhere in his heart. It brought back a flood of memories from his life before the streets, and he missed his mother. She was crazy and things were intolerable, but somehow a piece of him missed the only semblance of a family he had ever known.
Pulling out the book now, he wasn't thinking about his mother. He was thinking again about Seimei, because the special something he had hidden away inside this book that felt like a piece of his youth was a piece of Seimei.
Untying the straps that bound it closed, he turned it over and opened the back cover. Inside was the rose, red as the day Seimei had given it to him. He had hidden it in his lapels when Soubi had announced their impending temporary leave of absence from The House, and he had stuck it in the book to be pressed and preserved. He wanted to keep it forever. No matter what happened, no matter who or what he lost, no matter if he couldn't keep the rose with him, he needed to know that it went on. That it was a bright, tangible reminder of Seimei's kindness which would always be a constant, always be hidden away here, safe and beloved.
Slowly, he brought the book to his face and breathed in the dried petals. The perfume was now faint, but it was there. An image of Seimei burned against his closed eyelids.
"Oh, Seimei…" he whispered. "I miss you."
Soubi stayed true to his word and was out of the apartment before Ritsuka woke up. There was a note on the kitchen table written in his thin, precise pen strokes stating that Kio would be by later to pick Ritsuka up and return him to the house. Ritsuka took this news with relief instead of anger at being dismissed so impersonally. He was growing sick of Soubi's constant presence during his time at the apartment. Kio would be a nice change.
Kio came for him about midday, seeming pleasant enough. But as he was helping Ritsuka pack his things into a bag, Ritsuka caught sight of a pained expression flit across his face more than once. It was like a wince, but slower, like the pain was a constant, instead of a surprising and momentary thing.
"Kio…what's wrong?" asked Ritsuka.
Kio looked up to meet his eyes. He smiled sadly. "Nothing new. I'll be fine. Really."
Ritsuka didn't know what to say to that, but he felt like it would be wrong to just let Kio suffer. What if there was something he could do for him?
"…it's Soubi, isn't it?" he eventually managed. Inside, he already knew the answer.
"Let's go, Ritsuka. The car's waiting." was all Kio said in reply.
He had taken off fast and was practically marching forward. Ritsuka had to jog to keep up.
"Why don't you just tell him to stop?"
Kio laughed brusquely. "Good one, Ritsuka. As if I have that kind of authority." He jammed the key into the trunk and opened it for Ritsuka to toss his suitcase into. Ritsuka did, not speaking again until they were both buckled into the car and en route to Soubi's House. The heater poured warm air on them.
"Maybe you don't have that kind of authority, but it doesn't mean you don't have that kind of power."
Kio cast him a sidelong glance. "What are you getting at?"
Encouraged by the positive response, Ritsuka continued, albeit a bit nervously. Afterall, he had just spent ten days sleeping with the man Kio was in love with; the same man that Ritsuka was now attempting to give romantic advice about, which Ritsuka knew he was less than qualified for. But he still felt compelled to try. It was Valentine's day. No one should be heartbroken on Valentine's day.
"Soubi lets you live with him for free. You've already said yourself that you take on clients sometimes as favors or whatever. I think maybe even you do it out of spite or revenge." A guilty look passed over Kio's face; Ritsuka pressed on. "Not only that, the first time I ever met you was the first time I've ever seen Soubi do anything tenderly. He reassured you that he would make it up to you, my presence. He even said that he spends more nights with you than anyone else. I'm not saying that excuses what he's doing or how he's making you feel. I'm only saying that obviously he has feelings for you beyond what he feels for any rent boy like me. Maybe he's just too callous to realize what it's doing to you. Maybe you need to spell it out for him."
Kio was quiet for a few deliberating moments. Rain had begun beading softly on the windows. When they began to fog up, Kio turned the air vents toward them.
"He knows how I feel about him," he finally said, very softly. "I don't make it a secret."
Ritsuka's heart ached in sympathy. He imagined how it would feel to tell Seimei how he felt, only to have Seimei continue seeing other boys-doing more than "see" them, in fact. The very thought was enough to make Ritsuka shudder.
"What did he say when you told him?" Ritsuka asked, trying to speak the words gently.
Kio sighed. "I don't want to talk about it, Ritsuka. Really, I appreciate what you're trying to do but it's just not a problem that can be fixed."
Kio turned away, staring out the window at the rain.
Then he murmured, almost too softly for Ritsuka to hear, "Better to feel nothing at all than to deal with… this."
Later, Ritsuka reflected that he didn't think Kio really meant it. But he let it go after that, knowing by the look on Kio's face that the subject truly was closed and if he pursued it further Kio might actually start screaming at him. The whole thing was depressing. His mood had pretty much deteriorated from glum to downright mopey by the time they had reached The House, and he ignored the other boys welcoming him back. Natsuo and Youji were thankfully nowhere to be found. Ritsuka didn't feel up to talking to anyone, and he certainly didn't feel up to Youji's infuriating taunts and come-ons.
Ritsuka took his suitcase up to his room, declining help from Kio, who looked about as wretched as a dog who'd been found in a storm drain, his green hair limp and dripping across his forehead. Maybe it would have been kinder to let him help, Ritsuka thought, after Kio had disappeared into Soubi's office with a soft click of the door. It would keep him occupied for at least a little while longer. Then again, maybe all Kio wanted to do was find Soubi and scream himself hoarse. Ritsuka was pretty sure that's what he'd want to do if he were in that situation.
He came up short when he opened the door to his shared bedroom and found his bed had been invaded by a package in screaming red, dotted with white hearts and silver handcuffs and wrapped in a large pink bow. It was the epitome of Valentines gift stereotype extraordinaire.
Ritsuka approached the bed warily, half expecting someone (Youji) to jump out from under it and yell "surprise!" before attempting to do unspeakable things to his person. But when he got there, nobody shouted or grabbed him or appeared at all. It was just Ritsuka and his bizarre (bordering on kinky) Valentine's Day present.
A miraculous thought occurred to Ritsuka. Could this have been sent by Seimei? Was SEIMEI his secret admirer? Ritsuka suddenly found himself grinning, feeling giddy. He HAD received a rose from Seimei already. Maybe he'd decided to up the ante now, and found some way to sneak in a gift, today of all days. It was possible. Ritsuka knew Youji or Natsuo or any of the other boys would be perfectly willing to do a favor for Seimei Aoyagi. That thought brought with it the bitter tang of jealousy and fear, because not all favors were platonic, but Ritsuka pushed it back with sheer force of will. If this gift was from Seimei, nothing could be allowed to dampen his happiness over receiving it.
Ritsuka reached forward and took the package. Carefully, he pulled off the wrapping.
Inside was a bear. A plain brown stuffed teddy bear, roughly the size of large house cat. It had black buttons for eyes, and its mouth was stitched on. A small box of chocolates fell from its chubby paws. Ritsuka instinctively grabbed at it as it tumbled downward. He caught it before it could hit the mattress and break open. With the box out of the way, a patchwork heart was visible on the bear's chest. It said "Hot stuff!" and the edges looked as if they were on fire. There was also a pair of plastic handcuffs locked around one paw, the other cuff dangling uselessly. It was a creative touch to an otherwise very standard gift and, if Ritsuka cared to admit it, mildly amusing.
But his heart was quickly sinking. This didn't seem like something Seimei would send. It was too crude, too Youji. At the same time it was too sweet, as odd as that seemed considering the overall theme of the bear. No, this seemed like a familiar and unique sort of perverse mixed with charming. This seemed like...
"Kano," Ritsuka said, thinking the name just as he read it on the gift tag pinned to the bear's ear.
With a heavy sigh, Ritsuka slumped down onto the bed. He let himself fall backward on it, laying completely supine and letting the mattress hold every ounce of his weight. Right now, he didn't feel like he had the strength to hold any of it himself. Not Seimei, then. Kano.
His hopes had been so high that the gift was going to be from Seimei. Ritsuka only rarely let himself get his hopes raised in the first place. When you grew up with an abusive mother and an absent father, you pretty much assumed things were going to end badly, or at least end in mediocrity. You didn't hope for things, or let your hopes grow – and certainly not to the point that they didn't even feel like hopes anymore, and they felt like expectations.
Ritsuka sighed again. This was what he deserved for presuming Seimei would even think about getting him a present. There was no reason Ritsuka should have given himself that much credit. He shoved the bear away, feeling guilty about it, because it wasn't the bear's fault he was an idiot, but still, the bear reminded of him of the fact that Seimei HADN'T been the one to send it (or send anything else) and Ritsuka didn't want that reminder right now.
He still felt too raw from his long stay with Soubi, and a little irritated with Kano. He was confused now, not knowing if Kano had feelings for him or just wanted a boy toy around in case he got bored. But how can he with what he has to do for a living? Didn't anyone around here get sexually exhausted? Was there something in the drinking water?
But no, Kano couldn't have any feelings developing beyond that. Ritsuka had seen the way he had looked at that man. Ristu, was his name? Scarily close to his own. Maybe that was why Kano was so hung out on him. He could scream out the name and nothing would be weird about it because it was essentially the same name only shortened.
Frustrated, he decided there was nothing for it but to ask. It would be too cruel to just toss the gift and pretend it never existed. It was a cute bear anyway, and he loved chocolates. Hoping somehow this talk would end smoothly and without any blushing from either party, Ritsuka slid off the bed, taking the bear with him.
He checked Kano's room first, then the TV room and the game room, but couldn't seem to find the boy anywhere. He thought about asking someone, but he didn't want more rumors spread about his non-existent love life. Better to simply keep searching; it wasn't like he had anything better to waste his afternoon on.
Eventually he found Natsuo and Youji lurking in a corner, so involved with each other they didn't even notice they had company. Ritsuka was momentarily shocked—-Natuso seemed to be the one pinning Youji against the wall, which wasn't anything Ritsuka had ever been privy to before. Not only had he trapped Youji against the wall, he also appeared to be snacking on his neck like a starving spider. Youji was moaning, which was a little unnerving since it wasn't immediately obvious if he was enjoying being a victim or if he had too much blood loss to form coherent sentences.
Ritsuka shook it off. Natuso wasn't a spider and intellectually he knew that Youji was simply in some sort of mind-fogging sexual spell at the moment. Good, because he really just needed to know where Kano was and be done with it.
"Hey," Ritsuka snapped.
Natsuo pulled back with a frown, looking extremely unenthusiastic about being interrupted.
"Ritsuka," he said, not unkindly, but with absolutely no warmth at all. "You're home. I'm glad. Now go away."
"I won't," Ritsuka said. "Shouldn't you two be saving some energy for The Street?"
Natsuo laughed.
Youji was still clinging to his shirt, looking dazed and ridiculously soppy. "We're not working tonight," he put in. "Now please let me go back to being properly seduced."
"Normally I'd ask you to join," said Natsuo. "But it's Valentine's day and Soubi gave us the entire day off so we can actually spend a little one-on-one time. Check back in tomorrow if you're so hard up for it."
Ritsuka let out a huff that sounded amazingly like a steam engine. "I don't want in on your… I wouldn't… whatever! Just tell me where I can find Kano."
"He's in the prep bathroom, I think," Natsuo said carelessly, already turning back to Youji, who was tilting his head back and exposing his neck like it was a sacrificial offering. "And if he's not there, I don't know and neither does Youji."
"Yeah," Youji agreed, eloquently.
It was a clear dismissal.
Ritsuka didn't even bother replying to that. He left the two lovebirds alone to their make-out session (soon to be more than making out, judging by the moans Youji was still making) and headed for the stairs. What was it about those two that made THEM deserving of finding their true loves?
Well, thought Ritsuka gloomily, finding his love wasn't really the problem. It was actually being with him that seemed to be the crux of the matter.
But still…Youji and Natsuo were young, rash, promiscuous, and impolite (to be fair, Natsuo was generally very tactful…it was Youji who couldn't use manners to save his own life). Why did they deserve to be with the person they both wanted when Ritsuka didn't? Was Ritsuka cursed? Was he unworthy?
Maybe it wasn't Ritsuka's fault at all…maybe his mother's abuse had left him so scarred that other people could sense it, and it made them unwilling to do anything more than physical with him.
In any case he was going to get to the bottom of it, at least where Kano was concerned.
It turned out Natsuo's suggestion had been right; Ritsuka found Kano lurking in the prep bathroom by the floor-to-ceiling mirrored wall. He was staring at himself, but he didn't seem to be primping or anything overtly self-admiring. He seemed to be checking his eyes for wrinkles or bags and he looked worried. Ritsuka stopped short, suddenly wondering if this may have been a bad time. He'd never seen Kano look concerned over anything before and it made him feel slightly awkward.
Before he could turn to go, he saw Kano's gaze shift from himself to the reflection of the teddy bear hanging limply in Ritsuka's grasp. His eyes then traveled up to Ritsuka's face and he broke into a grin. "You got my Valentine."
Ritsuka nodded. "Yeah, I... thank you. I love chocolates."
Kano turned to face him. "And teddy bears? I thought it might be a bit much. You aren't a girl, after all. Even if you look amazing in micro shorts and five inch platform boots."
Ritsuka felt himself blush to the roots of his hair. He'd never taken compliments well. Those made him feel awkward too, especially now that he was dressing like a Victoria's secret model on a nightly basis. "I've never really had bears before. But this one is, well, it's pretty unique."
Kano smiled. "You know how I like to be an individual."
"Yeah…" Ritsuka said hesitantly. "But….honestly, I don't get it. Why would you give ME a valentine?"
Kano looked puzzled. "Why not?"
Ritsuka sighed. Clearly Kano was going to make him spell this out, and Ritsuka didn't know if he could.
"Kano…" he began. "I SAW the way you looked at that guy. The one who was with Seimei that day when we got roses."
Kano's face was smoothly, carefully blank.
Ritsuka made a frustrated huffing sound in the back of his throat. "You know who I'm talking about Kano, don't play dumb."
Without saying anything, Kano turned back to the mirror.
"Look, I'm just asking….I don't understand why you're over here sending me valentines when you obviously –"
"Ritsuka, you don't get it. Really." Kano said. He sounded calm but something in Ritsuka didn't believe that he was.
For as long as he could remember, he had a gift for reading people. He could sense when someone was trustworthy, when they weren't, how much to protect his heart and how much to care. He could also sense moods and feelings the way one could sense approaching rain by the scent on the air. There was a deep sadness in Kano, so overwhelmingly honest it seemed to encompass the entire salon-sized bathroom.
Slowly, Ritsuka closed in on Kano until he was standing just behind his right shoulder. He looked at the other boy's reflection. His eyes were closed.
Ritsuka touched his arm gently. "I'd like to understand. Will you tell me?"
Kano's eyes opened and he exhaled, long and slow. He stared at the bottom edge of the mirror, where it connected to the bathroom floor, like he was debating the pros and cons of answering and of staying silent.
"It was a long time ago," he finally said. "Back when I was a model. God, it sounds ridiculous to even say the words out a loud. 'When I was a model.' There's no way anybody can say those words without sounding like a completely conceited ass."
Ritsuka laughed a little, thinking it would help Kano feel more relaxed. "But you WERE a model."
Kano nodded. "It wasn't a bad gig. Put on some clothes, strike a few poses, make five grand. Anyway…I met a lot a people every single day. You have to talk to the designers and the agents and the photographers and the makeup artists and the editors and the set designers and God knows who else. One day, I met Ritsu."
If Ritsuka hadn't already been convinced that something a lot more complicated had transpired between the man and Kano than mere acquaintanceship, he would have had all the confirmation he needed simply from the inflection and implication in Kano's tone when he said the name. It was as if those two syllables were more precious than gemstones and took everything in him to say aloud, diminishing every ounce of energy he had. His breathing had become quicker and more shallow. He moved to a lilac ottoman a short distance away next to the entrance way to the showers and sunk onto the cushion. Ritsuka sat beside him and waited for him to continue. With a slightly quavering breath, he did.
"I still don't even know exactly what his title was, or if he had an official one at all. He knew my clothing coordinator, Nagisa Sagan. She wasn't a particularly pleasant woman, but she's highly respected in the fashion world. So I always kept quiet and let her do as she pleased. Most people did. She would stand around nagging at the seamstress for hours while I was being fitted and my clothes pinned to the correct size. It was during one such occasion that Ritsu came in. Just walked right in like he owned the dressing room and gave Nagisa an envelope she had been screeching about for a half hour. I'm not sure what it was; it wasn't important. But he looked up at me then. Our eyes connected and I just-" he cut off here and seemed to shudder. "I can't even explain what it was like. It was as if... like we were..."
"Like you had found what you had been looking for," Ritsuka supplied.
Kano nodded eagerly, and his expression seemed to brighten. "Yes! Only I didn't know I had been looking for anything! Or especially anyone."
Ritsuka knew the feeling- he knew he had been looking for SOMETHING, but he never knew it was SOMEONE until he had met Seimei. And when he had, it felt like coming home.
It was a feeling that still made Ritsuka want to weep out loud. In relief, in exhaustion, in joy. But now the edges of that feeling were singed with doubt. He had found what he had always needed to complete himself, only it wasn't his. Sympathetically, Ritsuka covered Kano's hand. Kano spread his fingers to let Ritsuka's slip through, the squeezed and held on tight.
"I thought I was going mad. I was worried Ritsu would think I had some sort of mental condition, staring at him the way I was. But he was staring back. I was used to it because by then I was well known—a celebrity of sorts. But then Nagisa asked him what he thought about the dress she was wearing, and without taking his eyes off of me, he told her it was alright." Kano looked up and shook his head. "He actually walked a circle around me, sizing me up, and said, 'But this… this is a masterpiece."
"So he was talking about both you and the outfit," Ritsuka mused. "That must mean he—"
Kano cut him off. "But Ritsuka that's just it. The seamstress had taken off my outfit to sew a hem. I was standing there in my underwear. He was calling ME a masterpiece. Oh, and Nagisa knew it." His fists clenched. "And she HATED me after that."
Ritsuka couldn't help but giggle at that, serious as Kano was being right now. It sounded as though this 'Nagisa' person had had her eye on Ritsu.
"What did she do?" he asked.
"Threw a random outfit on me and practically pushed Ritsu out the dressing room door. I remember he was wearing a suit at the time, a grey one, and his tie got jostled in all the commotion Nagisa was making trying to get him out of there. And I remember that I just…WISHED so hard that I could have straightened it for him. I don't know why such a small detail like that stands out to me. Even after all this time, it does."
Ritsuka nodded. Little things about Seimei stood out to him every time they met.
"Well…after that, Nagisa started sabotaging me. And I mean that with all seriousness. She would give me outfits from the bottom of barrel…arrange to have my shoots cancelled. Once, she even convinced one of the stylists to send out on the runway without any makeup or hairstyling. Slowly and surely she sabotaged my whole career."
"What a bitch." Ritsuka said, simply.
Kano nodded. "All of that I could have handled on my own. Yeah, it sucked but I could have come back from it. But she didn't stop there…she spread a rumor about me near the end, and THAT'S what ended it at all."
"What did she say about you?"
"The official story is that an anonymous source told the press that I was getting all my cover spots and runway finales by doing favors for the photographers and designers. But the truth that I know without a doubt, without proof, is that Nagisa told them that."
Ritsuka didn't know what to say. How could she DO that someone? Kano had a career…a real future ahead of him. And some heartless bitch was jealous enough to snatch it all away because Ritsu preferred Kano to her?
"But even through all of her sabotage..." Kano continued. "Ritsu still came by. A lot, actually. And he would just watch me be made up or dressed or whatever happened to be going on. We didn't really talk, but...I wanted to talk to him. And I kept having the crazy idea that he wanted to talk to me too."
Ritsuka thought that it sounded like Ritsu DID want to talk to Kano, and said so.
Kano shrugged. He turned back to the mirror with a peculiar expression, and talked more to it than to Ritsuka when he went on. "It's ancient history now. I'm here and...I'm sure Ritsu's content with whatever life he's made for himself. We aren't in the same world, even if we were before."
"But that's crazy!" Ritsuka burst out, startling Kano so badly that he jumped. "He obviously feels something. He remembers you after all this time. He gave you that rose. You're seriously going to sit there and tell me that after all that, you still have no hope?"
"There was no hope to begin with. That's what I'm saying. He's much older than I am, much more powerful. He's a somebody. And who am I? I'm a used-to-be. A child star who is no longer a child and no longer shines. What would he do with something like me?"
"Love you." Ritsuka's words were so fierce he could feel the power of them vibrate his own marrow. "He could love you. Isn't that worth more than pride?"
Kano looked astonished. "It has nothing to do with pride. It's honor. I'm not honorable. Even if he did feel the connection for me that I feel for him, once he found out what I was, he'd want nothing to do with me. I'm soiled goods."
He knew that Kano didn't mean to, but Ritsuka felt the conviction like a slap. Is that what they all were? Soiled goods? Is that how people of good standing, with honorable reputations and sparkling names, see them? Soiled goods?
Misreading his speechlessness and the sudden draining of blood in his face, Kano place a hand on Ritsuka's shoulder and the other under his chin. He tilted Ritsuka's face up. Kano was taller than he was, but not by too much. The inclination of his head was only slight, but Kano looking down at him from such a close proximity made him feel dwarfed.
"But you, Ritsuka," he whispered. "You can see me. You can see past all the damage and find what's good in here." He took his hand off Ritsuka's shoulder and placed it to his own heart, then pressed it to Ritsuka's chest. "And I can see you. Not soiled goods. I'm so into you, Ritsuka. We could be good together."
Ritsuka blinked and swallowed hard. He hadn't expected such an abrupt and unabashed confession. "My body," he started nervously, unsure where he was going with this at first. "I...you're interested in my services. The bear has handcuffs. I-"
Kano laughed, and for the first time since Ritsuka met him, it sounded forced. "Minor joke," He said. His hand was still pressed to Ritsuka's ribs. "I am interested in that. I won't lie. But it's not only that, I assure you."
"So what else is it?" Ritsuka demanded, starting to feel suddenly snappish. How could he go from talking about Ristu like he hung the moon to talking about Ritsuka like he was the sun?
"I want to protect you, take you out, hold you. I want you and I to be an us, like Natsuo and Youji. I want to come home and have someone to come home to. And I'd love it if that person were you."
Ritsuka backed away from Kano, suddenly needing space. "Okay, so you have a crush on me," he said. "That doesn't mean you're OVER Ritsu. I mean, Kano – "
"But I AM over him, Ritsuka. I've accepted it. We aren't meant to be."
Ritsuka nearly screamed in frustration. "How can you say that?! Didn't you see the way he looked at you, even after years of separation? Don't you get what it means?"
"He just thought I could still be a good lay – it doesn't change the fact that I'm soiled goods to him and he's utterly, utterly not."
"Kano." Ritsuka said firmly, trying to calm himself down. "You're not even making sense. I get that you like me but I'm not meant for you. Ritsu is meant for you."
"No, he's not, Ritsuka." argued Kano, with infuriating certainty. "He's just a fairy tale."
"Has everything in you just shriveled up and DIED?!" yelled Ritsuka.
"Yes. But because of you, I feel life blossoming in me again."
"You're not feeling that because of me, you idiot! It's because you saw Ritsu again! You're feeling it because of him!"
And at that moment, the bathroom door swung upon and revealed Kio.
"Umm, is this a bad time?" he said.
Kano spoke in the same smooth, cool manner that was his norm, which Ritsuka found both admirable and annoying at the moment.
"As per usual, your timing is perfect, Kio. Ritsuka and I were just finishing up a most endearing conversation."
He started for the door, shooting Ritsuka a look over his shoulder, heavy with hidden meaning. "I get that you're still hung up on things, but I'll give you time to consider my offer." He paused in the doorway. "The doors are open to you. Sincerely."
Kio stared after him as he walked out, clearly nonplussed. "What in the—"
But Ritsuka shouted over him, hoping the words would follow Kano out. "I haven't given up! Maybe everyone else has given up but I haven't! I haven't!"
Now Kio was looking marginally more concerned. "Ritsuka, calm down."
"I'm fine!" Although his tone clearly implied otherwise, Kio paused half-way toward him. "I'm ready to be primed and polished for tonight. Let's get it over with."
Ritsuka went through Kio's usual Makeover Routine: shower, scrub, rinse, polish, lotion. And that was just for his skin. After that was hair maintenance, which consisted of a wash, conditioning, styling, and setting. Ritsuka sat under Kio's enormous professional-grade hair dryer dome while Kio busied himself with shaping and buffing his nails, then filing them down to blunt, smooth shapes. The end result looked nice and well-cared-for, but still vaguely masculine.
Ritsuka noticed while Kio worked that he was being unusually quiet. There were dark half-circles under his eyes, like eyeliner recently smudged. And the eyes themselves were pink and puffy.
Ritsuka knew that Kio had been crying. It didn't take much to guess why, and Ritsuka spared a moment to think again about what a perfectly dickish human being Soubi was. But Ritsuka had already pushed Kio too hard before when he mentioned Soubi, so he kept those thoughts to himself. If Kio didn't want to talk about it, Ritsuka wouldn't force him.
"So," Kio murmured. "What was that charming discussion between you and Kano about?"
Ritsuka didn't much feel like going into that topic either, but it was talk about Kano or sit in silence, and sitting in silence had been uncomfortable thus far.
Ritsuka wondered where to start. "Well," he chewed his lip, considering. "He sent me a valentine."
Kio glanced up from Ritsuka's toenails, having moved on to those after finishing his hands. An orangewood stick hung limply in his fingers. "DID he now?" Kio sounded intrigued.
"Yeah, and he thinks that me and him 'would be good together,'" Ritsuka muttered. He hoped his tone of voice would make it clear what his feelings on the matter were.
"I think so, too." Kio's tone was curt and very final. "He's handsome, don't you think?"
"Do you mind," Ritsuka started, his voice became more shrill on each word until he was positively screaming. "telling me why the hell everyone is always pointing out to me how good-looking people are as if that's the most important thing to me!?"
Kio looked about ready to slap him across the face. "Would you knock it off? People are going to think I'm raping you in here."
Ritsuka folded his arms and threw himself back against his chair, turning his face to the side. Kio uncapped a bottle of glittering red polish and began applying it to Ritsuka's toes.
"Look, all I'm saying is that you two are a very good match. You're the proper age for each other, similar background, same line of work, personalities are compatible. Not to mention, you seem to bring out the best in him. He's stronger around you, more energetic, more interested in things. He wants to take care of you, and let's face it Ritsuka, you're nothing if not a sad, wet little kitten or classic damsel in distress."
"I - you - what does that even - how-!" Ritsuka stuttered incoherently. "I am not a damsel in distress!" he finally managed to shout.
Kio nodded serenely. "A kitten, then. Whichever metaphor you choose, the point is, you need someone who will take care of you. And Kano is in a position to do that."
Ritsuka couldn't stop himself from muttering, "Seimei's in a better position to do that."
Kio's eyes narrowed, and for the first time, Ritsuka actually felt wary in his presence.
"Ritsuka, listen to me, and listen well, because I'm not saying this again. Seimei is NOT an option for you. The sooner you learn that, the better off you'll be. He's going to break your heart and he won't give a damn when he does. And if you don't realize that fact now, you'll spend your life pining after somebody who will never be to you what you wish they could be. No one knows that better than me."
Ritsuka's jaw set stubbornly. "There's no way you can know that about Seimei. Anyone can get their heart broken by anyone. I could get my heart broken by Kano just as easily. It's so ridiculous."
"It is not ridiculous, my determined little butterfly. I have literally seen Seimei Aoyagi crush a heart to pixie dust and feel nothing at all for it." Here Kio pointed the nail polish wand at him. "And you know what I've seen Kano do? I've seen him date a nervous, shy little boy named Ciel who Soubi scooped up off the street. I've seen him make this kid his priority. I've seen Kano comfort him and take on extra clients because Ciel just couldn't stomach it. I've seen Kano take his entire savings and give it to Ciel to get him out of here."
"I couldn't do that to someone!" Ritsuka protested, feeling horrified at the thought. "Date them and then take their life savings and run? Who do you think I am? Do I look like a slut to you?"
"No, but once I'm done with this polish, you'll at least look like a prostitute." Kio turned back to Ritsuka's toes. After a few seconds hesitation, he met Ritsuka's eyes and chuckled.
Ritsuka felt himself soften, just a bit. He sighed. "Kio, I know you're just trying to help me, and I appreciate that, but you're wrong. I know in my heart that you're wrong. And even if you aren't, can't you see that I can't just take it on your word? Can't you see that I have to try?"
"Drop him now, Ritsuka, or you'll end up just like me."
Ritsuka could do nothing but sit and stare. Kio's eyes were fierce and intent. He cleared his throat, but whether it was because of feeling awkward or feeling upset, Ritsuka couldn't tell.
He capped the nail polish and tossed it back into his basket of assorted colors, mumbling something that sounded a lot like insults regarding fantastical ideas about love. Ritsuka didn't comment, deciding it just wasn't worth assuming position as mini-Soubi and upsetting Kio further.
"Instead of all this wishy-washy nonsense, why don't you tell me what started all this about Kano asking you out?"
Holding out one hand to allow the application of clear nail color sealant, Ritsuka squeezed the other between his knees. Kio promptly swatted at him, screeching about how it takes a solid ten minutes for polish to be truly dry enough to be touched.
After mumbling a half-hearted apology in which Ritsuka wasn't even sure made sense, he said, "Kano gave me a valentine. That bear over there was part of it." He pointed, and Kio's gaze followed the trail.
"Uh huh," said Kio. There was something suspiciously like glee lighting up behind his big, sad eyes.
"What?" Ritsuka asked. Dread was clenching up his stomach. "Please don't tell me you're happy for me because if you do—"
"And why shouldn't I be?" Kio dipped the nail brush into the sealant and pulled up Ritsuka's other hand. "I think you and Kano are a perfect match."
Ritsuka sighed. What part of "perfect match" involved dating someone you weren't actually attracted to, whilst pining over someone you WERE attracted to?
"Think about it," Kio went on. "You're both in the same line of work - "
Ritsuka snorted derisively.
"- you're similar ages, you're both living under the same roof, you're already friends...it's a match made in heaven."
"Kio." said Ritsuka sternly. "You really don't get it. It wouldn't work out. I don't want Kano, and he doesn't even want me. He's in love with somebody else, or at least close to it, but he refuses to just admit it, and instead he's going on about me and him getting together just to distract himself from the guy, and honestly I feel like he's being a damn coward about the entire thing."
"And he probably thinks you're being a damn dreamer about your little fantasies and it's either pissing him off or turning him on." Kio took a deep breath. "Or both, if you're lucky. Hate-sex. It's absolutely criminal."
Kio said the word criminal like sugar addicts said chocolate. Ritsuka tried to close his mind off from the disgusting image of Kio and Soubi having rough and sweaty—
He shook his head wildly.
"Ritsuka, don't mess up your hair," Kio snapped.
"I'm off to have hooker-sex with some random creep; my hair is going to look like a tumble weed in two hours anyway. What's it matter?"
For a long moment, Kio stared at his face. Ritsuka kept his eyes cast downward. Tears were beading along his lower eyelashes. He sniffled, not meaning to, but unable to help it. He still didn't like the idea of sleeping around, even if it was all for his livelihood.
Gently, Kio nudged his chin up. He lent a tiny smile. It was barely there, but it was friendly and compassionate.
"Hey. Ritsuka. You know what I think? I think you look up to me, and I think you see me watching Soubi. You see plainly what my feelings are, and you see how no matter what I don't let go."
"You don't," Ritsuka whispered, very seriously. "You don't give up and that's how I know it's real."
Ritsuka didn't think it was possible for a smile to look more like a frown than Kio's did at that moment. His heartbreak was miles long, leagues deep, and years long. And it seemed to Ritsuka that every night of loneliness and longing was etched into the very soul of him, visible only through his eyes.
Terror momentarily seized Ritsuka's throat, and he almost choked. Was this really his future? Was he really going to be fixing up rent-boys for hire in another ten years, just waiting for Seimei to show even the slightest hint of returning his feelings? Would he seriously be bedraggled and puffy-eyed on Valentine's day while Seimei bought a hooker to keep as a two week love-slave?
Kio took his hands, full of solemnity, almost like he was making Ritsuka a promise.
"Real or not, it's time I stopped feeding it. Soubi's not treating me well, and Seimei will do the same to you, mark my words. It's time to make a clean break. For you...and for myself."
Ritsuka had no idea what to say. Kio was standing up for himself, which was good, but he was doing it at the cost of crushing Ritsuka's dearest hopes and dreams, which was not.
Kio nodded anyway, as if Ritsuka had voiced his complete agreement with the idea. "A clean break. Once and for all."
Then, out of nowhere, Madonna's "Like a Virgin" blared from a corner of the bathroom.
"Is that...is THAT...your ringtone?" Ritsuka asked, half amused and half horrified.
"Only when Soubi calls or texts." Kio replied dryly. "I'm not picking that thing up, though. I don't care what he wants."
Ritsuka hesitated, then said, "Well, do you mind if I get it?"
"Do whatever floats your boat."
Ritsuka got up and retrieved Kio's cell phone, seeing that it wasn't a call but a text. He tapped the OPEN button on-screen and saw the following words:
I want to see you...meet me for dinner? Chez Paris. Eight o'clock. I want to make things up to you, doll.
His eyebrow arched. "Um," he held the phone up, as if Kio could actually read it from that distance. "I think you're going to care what he says this time."
"Nope," said Kio, almost comical in the infantile way he turned his head to the side and scrunched up his nose.
"You're really going to want to see this," Ritsuka said, with a humorless half-laugh. He was staring at the text again. When Kio didn't say anything, he figured it was his duty—in the name of true love—to deliver the message anyway.
"I want to see you," he read aloud. "meet me for dinner?"
Kio's arms dropped from a particularly ridged cross. He turned his head to face Ritsuka again.
"… Chez Paris," Ritsuka went on.
"Chez Paris!?" Kio repeated, the words much more high-pitched than Ritsuka's had been. "That's the first place he ever took me to!"
"Eight o'clock."
"But that only gives me two hours!"
"I want to make things up to you, doll."
"Doll!" Kio wailed. His eyes were still puffy, but he was definitely looking far more cheery than he had only seconds ago, and he sounded like a school-girl. "I need something to wear! And my hair is an absolute nest!"
He suddenly focused on Ritsuka. "Get out." He pointed toward the door. "You look absolutely delicious and I need this beautification cavern all to myself to primp until I'm yummy enough to eat off of. Now scram."
He crossed to Ritsuka in three strides and yanked his cell away.
"Hey," Ritsuka snapped as Kio flapped around him, chasing him toward the hallway. "What about making a clean-break!?"
Kio slammed the door in his face.
A/N: If you noticed the absence of you-know-who, don't worry. He'll be showing up soon!
To be continued….!