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Chapter Two: Fill My Heart With Song
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Granted Kurama was not much of a barfly but he had never heard of The Carnation House and he wouldn't have guessed from the street that there was a nightclub with regular live entertainment at the bottom of a few stairs behind a bookshop. The club was too big and too ritzy to be called a hole in the wall. Strangely enough, all the lights throughout the club were green, as green as the sunlight filtered through young leaves. It took some time for Kurama's eyes to adjust and find the lighting appealing. On stage to the far right, there was a jazz pianist playing.
Most of the staff seemed to know Kurosaki and greeted him as he and Kurama made their way to a secluded booth. As they passed by, the bartender asked Kurosaki if he wanted his usual. Kurosaki thanked him but declined the offer and ordered a whiskey highball instead. Kurama made it two.
They sat about a person's width between one another in the middle of a large, round booth. Having disrobed his suit jacket and rolled up his dress shirt sleeves, Kurosaki sat leaning back with his arm resting on top of the booth and idly rubbed and tapped his fingers against the booth's plush leather in time to the music. Kurama sat a bit more straight with one leg crossed over the other. He was also fully aware that he was a scoot away from opening up the opportunity for Kurosaki to wrap his arm around his shoulders. If he was interested to, that was.
I can't be entirely certain that he is attracted to me, and presumption could be tragic. Asking me to join him to drink after our meeting could entirely just be good business, Kurama told himself as he picked up his drink and looked over at Kurosaki, humming to the lively tune. Kurosaki was a sharply-dressed man, regardless of how much of his suit he was wearing.
In the green light, Kurosaki's suit and eyes were just as black as his long, abundant hair, which was neatly pulled into a high ponytail. Kurama and Kurosaki had talked some but now they were mostly sipping on their drinks and listening to the pianist play. As odd as it sounded, it still felt like they were holding a conversation.
Despite it being the whole reason his stepfather had assigned him to this task, Kurama knew he had done and said little toward persuading Kurosaki to a partnership tonight. And what was just as much cause for concern, a part of Kurama wanted to flirt with him out of his own desire and not to charm him into striking a deal with his stepfather. This was a business matter, not a matter of the heart. Kurama had to keep his emotions out of this. If he could face his imminent death and the end of the world with a calm mind, he could focus on the deal and convince Kurosaki into partnering with his stepfather.
"You've heard a lot about what we can undertake and provide for you but I'm curious to hear more about what your company has accomplished in the last few years?" Kurama said, reaching for his drink. If he eased into this casually and carefully, Kurama was bound to make up for his ineffective floundering half the night. And given how much alcohol was probably swimming in his system by now, there was a good chance Kurosaki's lips were going to let a little useful information slip.
Kurama set his glass back down without taking a sip when he realized that Kurosaki was singing.
As the jazz pianist played "Fly Me to the Moon", Kurosaki softly sang along. Though he seemed oblivious to everyone around him, including Kurama, it felt like he was only singing to Kurama, as his voice was only loud enough for Kurama to hear. Kurama had to admit Kurosaki had unusually sober pronunciation and pitch for someone with several glasses of wine and whiskey in their belly. On top of that, Kurosaki's voice was rich and velvety and, at times and on certain words, he purred. A quiver rolled down Kurama's back, as Kurosaki gazed over at him and grinned as he sang, 'In other words, baby, kiss me'.
His face was warm and so was his neck. Kurama hoped the heat was from too much drink—this was his third, maybe fourth whiskey highball. Facts were facts but the heart was able to trick the mind into believing anything was true and right now Kurama wanted to believe that Kuronue lived again and that he was sitting beside him serenading him.
He wanted to but, of course, he wasn't supposed to. It wasn't like he was going to bring Kuronue back by wishing Kurosaki was him. People either were who they were or they weren't and Kurosaki was not Kuronue. Kurama had to remember that. Somehow, he had to learn.
"Bravo," Kurama said politely but with little feeling when Kurosaki finished singing.
"Do you sing?" Kurosaki asked.
"A little," Kurama replied. "Among friends at karaoke."
Kurosaki scooted over and put his arm around Kurama's shoulders. "I think we've gotten pretty friendly tonight," he said, leaning Kurama toward him and into a light hug. "Please? Just a little. I won't tell."
"Unfortunately, I don't know the lyrics of many jazz songs."
"Sing what I just sang," Kurosaki said. "I'll help you along if you already forgotten."
Quietly laughing with embarrassment, Kurama lightly shook his head no. "You don't want to hear me sing."
"But I do," Kurosaki cheerfully insisted and still Kurama shook his head no. "Well, now your persistent refusal makes me want to hear you sing even more."
Kuronue always was a stubborn bastard, Kurama thought and then mentally cursed as he realized his mistake.
"Are you that bad?" Kurosaki asked.
Despite knowing that he should say yes on the off-chance that saying yes was going to shut him up, Kurama went ahead and said, "No."
"Well then," Kurosaki said and then snapped his fingers to the beat of a countdown. "A one, a two, a one, two, three, four—"
"Fly me to the moon and let me play among the stars..."
Kurama had chosen to give in and still he was surprised to find himself singing. Much as he wanted to blame it on the booze, he knew that wasn't it. Kurosaki was still holding him and Kurama lay practically pressed against his chest. His mind was occupied with conjuring memories of enthusiastic embraces not felt in centuries and Kurama wanted to sing.
"You are all I long for, all I worship and adore..." Kurama was beside himself with a bubbly feeling he could not explain. His smile practically beamed as he sang, "In other words, please be true..."
Kurosaki hadn't taken his eyes off him. Kurama had his rapt attention and it was making him giggly with embarrassment. His heart was pounding. If his stepfather had asked him how he projected this night was going to go, he never foresaw him and Kurosaki singing Sinatra to one another.
"In other words, I—" Kurama was not going to sing the final words. And even if he had wanted to, Kurama was laughing too much in disbelief to get the words out.
"No, don't stop," Kurosaki encouraged, as he shook Kurama's shoulder and swayed the two of them from side to side in excitement. "You were so good. I can't believe you didn't want me to hear that."
"Consider it a gift," Kurama said. "No returns. No encores."
Kurosaki's shoulders shook with suppressed laughter as Kurama sat up straight. "Oh, how I am fortunate," he said, matching Kurama's mild sarcasm.
Though Kurosaki wasn't holding Kurama anymore and he had drawn his arm away, neither one of them had moved away from the other.
"Call me crazy, but I think we were supposed to meet," Kurosaki said, as he picked ice cubes out of his glass and ate them.
Kurama stopped himself from saying anything or from giving Kurosaki a strange look, but he did wrinkle his nose as he thought about how oblivious and unknowingly on the mark Kurosaki was. Even if he wasn't Kuronue reincarnated, the chances that they would meet and that Kurosaki would be a fellow that looked just like Kuronue were so improbably low that even fate itself would find this unlikely.
"Spare me if you're about to tell me this night was 'written in the stars'," Kurama said, with a groan edging into his voice toward the end.
"No, not like that," Kurosaki said, waving his hand no. A drip from a melting ice cube trickled down his hand. "Astrology is a load of crock." He popped the ice cube into his mouth and crunched down.
"So claims the Aquarius," Kurama said, with a smirk.
"Hell if I know if I'm an Aquarius," Kurosaki said, with a snort. "It's just a pickup."
A pickup? Kurama thought, raising an eyebrow. "And here all my answers were truthful." Mostly.
"What can I say?" Kurosaki said, grinning as he shrugged his shoulders once. "I wanted you to like me."
"I already did," Kurama said.
Not even half a second later, Kurama realized what he had said. He looked over and saw Kurosaki staring back at him with his eyebrows raised. Kurama hadn't meant to say what he had said—it had just sort of slipped out. Not that he didn't mean what he had said because he did but it was that he had just not meant to say it out loud—as he confused himself, Kurama told himself to shut up.
"Just overlook that," Kurama said and looked away, as he reached for his drink. Never had he wanted a server to come to a table more just to break up the silence.
It was a short breath-length before Kurama felt Kurosaki finally move again. As Kurama turned his head to apologize, or at least move the conversation along, the corner of his mouth brushed against Kurosaki's lips. The unexpected touch astonished Kurama and he gasped. Knowing that he had surprised him, Kurosaki pulled away.
"I can't stop hearing you say you liked me," Kurosaki said, a rasp edging its way into his voice. Unable to decide where his gaze wanted to settle, Kurosaki's eyes flitted between Kurama's eyes and mouth. He then leaned in again slowly, giving Kurama ample time to push him away. Kurama didn't.
It was one soft touch, then another. Kurama stole his arms around Kurosaki's neck and buried his hands into his inky black hair. The inside of Kurosaki's mouth was chill from the ice but the chill quickly gave way to warmth. Kurosaki tasted of whiskey, sharp and searing.
It was not his first kiss but it had been centuries since Kurama had kissed someone with such longing and passion. Time and fate had called for Kurama to hold tightly onto his emotions, and at times to lock them away entirely, but Kurosaki's fire had burned his tethers. Kurama was awash with emotions he had long since buried and forgotten and his body drank in the unfamiliar sensations like rainwater to a parched plant. The soft, slow tings and trills of the jazz pianist playing was mere background to the drum of his heartbeat.
And then Kurosaki's phone started vibrating on the table. Without looking at the number or who was calling him, Kurosaki hit ignore, but just as soon as he set his phone back down, it started vibrating again. After the third ignore in a row, Kurosaki didn't even bother with it and locked lips with Kurama again.
Kurama arched his back in response as Kurosaki slid a hand, his grip firm, across and up along Kurama's side. Granted they were at a secluded table and the nightclub was otherwise entertained elsewhere, but the thought that they should be a little more discreet did cross Kurama's mind. Perhaps it was wiser to relocate somewhere more private before either one of them started moaning over the piano music.
"Your place, or mine?" Kurama whispered close to Kurosaki's ear and then touched his cheek to Kurosaki's jaw as he slid his lips back to his mouth.
"Depends," Kurosaki answered in between kisses. "How far?"
"Be at least forty-five minutes by subway for me."
"I can have a car here in twenty. We can keep going along the way," Kurosaki's said, his voice rumbling with excitement.
There was just one little matter disturbing and delaying them—Kurosaki's phone was still vibrating.
Fed up, Kurosaki finally picked up his phone and answered his call. "What?" he growled, his scowl was a deep slash mark across his face. "...Yeah, I know."
Kuronue breathed a giant sigh of frustration. "Look, we'll pick this up in the morning. Right now, I'm—Yeah? Fuck."
Kurama couldn't hear who Kurosaki was talking to or what they were talking about, but if Kurosaki's sudden irritation was any indication, who and whatever they were discussing had just killed their plans for the rest of the night. All possibility of them leaving the nightclub together tongue in tongue was gone when Kurosaki said that he was on his way.
"Sorry, gotta run," Kurosaki said reluctantly, his eyes lingering on Kurama, as he scooted out of the booth and Kurama followed his lead.
Kurama was disappointed in the turn of events but he was also relieved that things hadn't panned out in the direction they were going. Sleeping with Kurosaki would have been a big mistake and Kurama would have been an idiot for going through with it. His stepfather was counting on him to get a yes. He was supposed to just flirt with Kurosaki a little, if even that. The goal was to persuade him, not spark a romance.
"Tonight was… Believe me, it's just the start," Kurosaki said, standing in front of the table, as he slipped his suit jacket back on. "Call me. I'm free after three tomorrow."
"I don't have your number," Kurama said. He was only getting Kurosaki's number for business, not for personal reasons. From here on out, all his meetings with Kurosaki were going to be conducted professionally.
"Check your contacts." Kurosaki's smile was far too smug for Kurama's liking.
Eying Kurosaki skeptically, Kurama picked up his gold-trimmed, rose-colored phone off the table and scrolled through his contacts. At first nothing out of the ordinary struck him until he noticed a new number simply listed as 'K'.
"How did…?" Kurama said, legitimately wanting to know how the hell Kurosaki had done that. "My phone was locked." Kurama had only briefly left the booth to use the restroom once but there was no way Kurosaki could have guessed his passcode—his real age.
Kurosaki just grinned in response as he turned to leave.
To Kurama's surprise, a car was waiting for Kurosaki outside the nightclub. He had hoped that he was going to get to talk to Kurosaki for a few more minutes.
"You gonna get home all right?" Kurosaki said as he stepped one foot into his ride. "I'll wait with you until a cab comes."
Kurama assured him that he was going to be fine.
"You better be," Kurosaki said and winked from his rolled-down window. "It's quite rare to find an interesting and attractive accountant. You're certainly the first I've met."
Kurama smiled politely in return.
"Oh, one other thing," Kurosaki said. "Your boss? He can't know about any of our 'one-on-one' meetings, okay?"
"I understand," Kurama said.
Kurosaki flashed him one last devilish grin as a goodbye and then gave his driver the signal to head on out. Kurama waited until his car was out of sight and then made his way toward the nearest subway entrance.