A super masochistic pervert
Another mask to hide his face behind. Another name he was called. Yashiro, the super masochistic pervert the public toilets of the executive staff the lustful cat sex addict and little slut. Doumeki know it wastn't just that. It would be too easy, way too easy. He had learnt to see behind this wall of glass, tearing them apart. All he ever wanted was to have a chance to show it to the Boss.
Ah, the Boss. Quite a problem. All this time, all that Doumeki has ever loved was loudly, funny and pinky girls. Now, the only thing he could think about was this horrible sexy monster, with his sharp blond hair and dark eyes, and this unforgettable demoniac smile always catching Doumeki's eyes.
He tried. He tried to push him away in his dreams, he tried not to bite his lips when thinking about the Boss. He tried avoiding always staying like a statue, too apprehensive for his Boss' reactions. And though he did that, efforts never paid once. It was still there. It.
This ridiculous feeling, deep inside his chest, growing and growing, getting more painful everyday, amlost choking him at night. Sometimes, he had the impression it was like an open wound : cured at night, and re-opened again when the Boss's eyes crossed his. And Doumeki always had to bear the innocent pain in his stomach, like a middle school girl getting excited, bright eyes, when seing the « cute boy » she was dreaming of. In a certain way, he was that school girl, always waiting for dawn to come, hoping for this day to be the one. But it never came. It, like the occasion of facing reality, the real fear – telling him. How he was feeling, how deep it was digging in him, how cruel it was.
Doumeki didn't want it, after all.
During the day, he was faceless. Unemotional. And when the Boss was away, or just looking somewhere else – which was way too rare – he was taking a deep breath, praying whatever God to keep him alive until the end of the day. He was feeling like… he was kind of losing himself. Yes, he was someone else. He was not just Doumeki anymore he was not the Policemen, nor the Yakuza new boy. Today, he was the Boss's bodyguard, the Boss's friend, the Boss's invisible guardian angel. He was Yashiro's secret – and the Boss was Doumeki's. They always had this kind of yes-but-no friendship, just like a cat and a mouse, always cutting their feud with a short moment of respite, a truce. And then again, it was starting again.
He would have liked to have a choice, for sure. But now that it was too late, he just had to deal with it.
Yashiro was waiting on the sidewalk, looking at the speeding cars passing by. Doumeki know it was him, without even checking. This back. It was the Boss's, he swore. What should he do, then ? Going back to the office, swallowing his own shame, or leaving anyway ? Maybe he just didn't want any of these options. Maybe he just wanted to make one, two, three steps and graze this thin silhouette. If only the Boss could notice him. If only.
« Boss ? » he asked carefully.
No move. He was still.
Doumeki, ill-at-ease, once thought of getting back to the office. But when he was about to turn back, something just kind of moved, catching his tired eyes. He lifted his eyes the Boss was gazing at him, with this « no-emotion » look.
He had to fight this toxic attraction. He had to. He had no other choice – telling him his feelings equaled being rejected, and worst, ignored. The yakuza didn't want to take the risk, it was too dangerous to try.
« Hey, didn't you have a question ? You're annoying. »
There it was. These painful words again. Yashiro couldn't help himself, for sure. Maybe the Boss didn't espacially want to be this cruel with his subordinate, maybe it was just the way he was. But Doumeki swore it was something else, like an habit, or a mask he was wearing from the start, unable to take it off. Dark, gloomy, even a bit scary at some point. This was Yashiro, the Boss, the sex addict, the phlegmatic man with his expensive suits. Always standing there, waiting for someone to revile. But Doumeki should be used to it – and he wasn't.
« I – I just don't like the idea of leaving you alone here.
- Relax, brat, it's just a filthy pavement. What do you think ? Nobody's gonna shoot me or anything. Come on. »
He frowned and Doumeki felt like his heart was wrenching by itself. The boss approached and he stopped, too close to his bodyguard to let him breathe correctly. Indeed, he was holding his breath – too stressed out to show his weakness to the Boss.
But when the Boss put his delicate fingers on Doumeki's cheek, his heart definitely burst. This time was different. It was no blow-job, no harsh word, just a sweet touch he couldn't afford – and it was too bitter to know the Boss was just playing around. Once he'd let it go, Yashiro would never show up again. Thus he remaind motionless and looked down, unable to face the playful gleam in the Boss's eyes.