A/N: Ok, maybe a chapter every week is too much, lol. But hope you enjoy this. Thanks for reading and reviewing, as always! You people rock.
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IX.
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Takumi studies at the amber liquid in the glass that Igarashi sets before him, the exact same colour as Misaki's eyes. The other boy sprawls on the leather chair across him, swigging directly from the bottle. "Don't you want your drink, President Usui?" he asks, quirking a brow.
"We are underage," Takumi states, lacing his fingers together. The smell of old leather and books hangs heavy in the air, but he is too tense to be excited about it.
"Pardon me?" Igarashi stares at him blankly for two seconds before bursting out laughing. Takumi weathers his mirth, mentally counting to a hundred to keep from throttling him. "Good heavens, you're serious. Have you really never had a drink before?" Takumi glares back, then lifts his glass and proceeds to pour the drink out into the flower vase.
"Damn it, man, have some respect," Igarashi exclaims, gripping his wrist. "That Glenmoragie's older than you." He snatches the glass away from Takumi, knocking back the remaining whiskey. Then, he refills the glass, pushing it towards Takumi. "Drink."
"No," Takumi shoots back. He has seen his father lose control too many times. There is no way he is touching this stuff.
"You'll need it, I promise you," the blond boy mutters, draining the glass again. He slams the glass on the table, his eyes brighter now. "Okay, that's better. What did you want to talk about?"
Takumi tries not to let his impatience show in his voice. "Who is Lady Genji?"
The corner of Igarashi's mouth lifts. "You really are adorable, you know that?"
Annoyed, Takumi rises to his feet, but Igarashi grabs his arm, laughing. "Okay, okay, calm down. It's Misa. Her real name is Misaki Genji. Her father is Ryutaro Genji, and her mother was Kotomi Ayuzawa."
"Wait, Ryutaro Genji- isn't he the head of Parliament?" The blood drains out of his face. He is truly out of his league here, among these people. "And his wife was the Lady Ayuzawa, I remember reading about her in the news when she died so young, the last of a noble line. I mean, I knew her last name was Ayuzawa, but I didn't think it was The Ayuzawa clan."
"Not quite the last," Igarashi sighs, refilling the glass yet again. "They had an arranged marriage too, just like we do. By the way, President Usui-" He pauses, his face sobering. "Takumi. We are moving your stuff to a different room. There must be no besmirching of Misa's reputation, do you understand?"
"I'm not the one people should be worried about," he mutters, crossing his arms. "Why am I even here?"
"To answer your first question, no. No, you can't go home yet. There will be a party in two days. The Genjis will be there, and so shall my parents. In fact, a lot of my schoolmates will be there, and I have taken the liberty of inviting the rest of your coworkers. Nobody from your school, of course. I understand that you are trying to hide that part of your reputation," Igarashi sips the whiskey, leaning back. "We are going to announce our wedding date at the party. She will not be going back to Seika High after spring break. Instead, she will be transferring to Miyabigaoka, to finish out the remainder of high school."
Takumi knows this was coming. It had been two short days since he first kissed her, and really, Igarashi has every right to her. Still, it feels like someone had sucker punched him.
Wait. Does this mean that Takumi likes her? He forces himself to nod. "I understand."
"Do you, really?" Igarashi studies him over the rim of the glass. He is red-cheeked, now, probably more than halfway drunk.
"So why wait till then? Why keep me here?" Takumi gazes out the window at the sea, the waves echoing the turmoil in his head.
"Because Misaki has never asked for anything." Igarashi sips, then leans his head back on the black leather, eyeing at the chandelier. "Not once in her life. She's a goddamned lady, and to her useless father, she's only as good as who she marries, because she was born without a penis." He waves the glass, chuckling mirthlessly, slurring his words now."So she's marrying me, right? Her dad sends her to live with us, to learn how to be a proper wife from the Igarashi household. Don't know why he thinks that we know anything about that. He knows my mom." He pauses to drain the whiskey, setting it down on the table with the exaggerated care of a drunk person. "But she got attached to that woman."
"What woman?" Takumi asks. He is having trouble following Igarashi's rambling.
"Doesn't matter who." Igarashi brushes off his question with a wave of his hand. "But then, the day before we enter high school, she says, no, she wants to go to Seika. She wants to live alone, by herself, to cook and clean and do whatever it is poor people do. She has never asked for anything, and her dad thinks it'll be good for her. Then… radio silence. So I follow her one day. And she dresses in that tacky little uniform...,"
"Hey," Takumi objects, scowling. He does not know why Igarashi is telling him all this.
"You do have to admit, your school uniform is pretty terrible," the blond boy interjects, aiming a finger at him. "Whoever picked it should be shot."
"Continue," Takumi urges.
"Right, right. So yeah, she walks to school. Walks," Igarashi repeats, bewildered. "I mean, who does that, right?"
"Everyone else in the world." Takumi mutters, praying for patience.
"And then she waits right outside the gates, and then you come in, and her face lights up. It fucking glows, and you don't even see it." Igarashi drops the empty glass on the table, slouching against the couch. "You barely look her way. And then her eyes follow you as you walk inside. This was two years ago."
Takumi stares at the surface of the table, unsettled, his chest tight. Part of him wants to run to the girl in the other room, to hold her tight and never let go. The other part of him wants to run fast and far away.
"I have never seen her like this," Igarashi repeats, tipping his head back again. "About anything else. And I know her as well as I know myself."
Needing to do something, Takumi rises, walking to the window. The sea beckons. It is almost sunset. "So what do you want me to do?"
"I want you to break her heart."
"No," he shoots back immediately, his fingers digging into the window sill. Hasn't Misaki been hurt enough?
"Do you honestly think you can protect her, President?" Igarashi sighs. "I thought you more of a realist than that. I mean, it's not like you love her, right? Unless you do… You did kiss her."
"And what about you?" Takumi snarls. "You claim to love her but you sleep around. What of that?"
"Are you a virgin, President?" the other boy mocks, rising unsteadily. Takumi watches his approach in the window glass, wary.
"That's not the point. You keep talking about loving her and protecting her. Aren't she and I just toys to you? And protect her from what? Her father?"
"So you are a virgin. Ah, well, you should be rid of it soon enough, you're a healthy teenage boy in a mostly female school," Igarashi announces, throwing an arm around his shoulder. "I can help you with the other kind of virginity, if you know what I mean."
"You're… joking, right?" Takumi glares at him, feeling his cheeks heat up. He is definitely out of his depth here.
"She isn't, either, if that helps. But that is to be expected. We are to be married, after all. There is no thwarting the collective will of our families. Hey, if I knew for sure you could take care of her in a manner that she is used to, and protect her from the consequences and wrath of her family, I would be okay with you running off into the sunset with her," the other boy states, gazing out to sea as well. "But you are just a teenage boy, president or not. And sooner, rather than later, I will be married to her. But you will always be a ghost in our marriage, unless you end it now before anything can start."
He turns to Takumi, his eyes sad. "Love is more complicated than you think. And Misaki's very sheltered in more ways than you can imagine. She is aware of my… activities. She has known about my tastes from the beginning. It does not matter to her. I need you to break her heart, President, so I can make her happy. You have two days."
The door opens, and the man from last night stands in the doorway. Takumi turns away from Igarashi's arm, pushing his way out the door. The man smirks slightly as he brushes past him. "I hear you are a butler too," the valet murmurs.
Takumi doesn't answer, walking faster. He doesn't know where he is going, or what to do. All he knows is he needs to get outside, needs to breathe, away from these people and all their games.
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He finds himself standing outside the door of his old room (does it count as his old room if he had it for less than a day?) The door opens, and a maid comes out, arms full of linens. "Good day, sir," she chirps, bobbing a curtsy. "I can show you to your new room, if you wish. We have moved your things."
What things, he thinks hysterically. The clothes on his back and the wallet inside the room are the only things he brought. Even the shoes on his feet aren't his. Panic and frustration well up in his gut, and he can feel the urge to yell at the maid, unfair as it may be. He sucks in a deep breath, trying to calm down.
"I can take him." Takumi opens his eyes to see Mrs. Igarashi standing there, her eyes speculative. "It's on my way."
Great. Just great. He bows stiffly, trailing after her. "I hear you go to school with our Misaki," Mrs. Igarashi comments, turning down the hallway. "Thank you for taking such good care of her. She's a quiet child, very sweet. My Tora adores her. They will be happy together, don't you think?" A hint of steel runs through her words, and Takumi simply nods.
More unspoken threats. Takumi sighs. "I'm sure they will be."
She glances sharply at him, a look that reminds him of her son. "Our relationship is not the best, but he is still my son. I want the best for him."
Is this what mothers do? A pang of envy flares in his chest. Well, his own mother ran off, so there was no way he would know. "He is lucky to have you, Mrs. Igarashi."
She stops in front of a door. "Enjoy your visit with us, young man. Let me know if there is anything I can do to make your stay better."
He is already closing the door before her sentence ends. It may be a bit rude, Takumi knows, but he has had his fill of Igarashis. Sure enough, his wallet sits neatly on the foot of the bed, though there is no sign of his flipflops. They must have thrown the footwear away, thinking they were garbage. It irritates Takumi further. They'd been perfectly broken in.
Kicking off the shoes, he pads to the bathroom, eager for a shower. The sight of black marble and gleaming gold fixtures brings him to a halt. "It looks like a mausoleum," he mutters aloud, his voice echoing. Then, he sees the massive bathtub, next to a window overlooking the sea. It's definitely time for a bath, he decides, checking the closet doors to make sure he has clothes to change into. Igarashi has it well-stocked with preppy polos and slacks. Even the underwear is stacked neatly, looking brand-new. He doesn't want to know how much these things cost.
Sighing, he turns on the taps. The day melts into night and he watches it from the window, pacing the cold tile floor. Begrudgingly he has to admit that this is the most luxurious thing he has done and it feels amazing. He soaks in the water, neck-deep, until his fingertips wrinkle, until the water cools. Rich people do live different lives.
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When he is done, he selects some clothes, closing his eyes as he dons them so he doesn't see the brand names. A knock on his door distracts him. "Who is it?" Takumi calls out, folding the cuffs at his elbows.
A strange woman pokes her head in. "President Usui? Oh, great, your hair's still wet. I'm here to style your hair." He recognizes her as the woman who was naked in Igarashi's bed. Awkwardly, he shakes his head.
"I don't need it," Takumi responds, backing away.
"Ah, yes, you do," the woman winks an artificially green eye, snapping her fingers. Two assistants pop up behind her, carrying bags. "Have a seat." He can only watch with dread as scissors and a comb appear in her hands.
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An hour later, they finally set him free, leaving his room with as much fanfare as they entered it. It must be past nine, he figures, running a palm over his freshly-shorn hair. Takumi had been cutting his own hair for a while, and it was different when someone else cut it. What do people do here, anyway? He is wide awake because of his late start, but not at all hungry. The bath also did wonders for his mood.
His conscience pricks at him. He is accepting the same salary as the cafe, after all. He should at least do something to earn it. Takumi is not a freeloader, after all. He heads back to the library where he left Igarashi, to see if the other boy needs to talk to him.
Instead, he finds Misaki there, sitting on the leather armchair, her chin on her fist as Igarashi is sprawled across her, his butler/lover standing guard beside him. Her gaze crashes into his as he enters the room, and her face lights up, no matter how she tries to keep her expression blank.
"Good evening," he intones, bowing.
Igarashi's eyes are red, probably from the alcohol. "Hey, Takumi," he slurs, grinning slightly. Big jump to using his first name, Takumi notes, but he supposes that is the least of the things that should bother him in this situation. "Isn't he pretty, Misa? I had my stylist do his hair. Much better than the old yellow mop. Have a seat, President, somewhere. Would you like to sit on my lap?"
He ignores the innuendo and stands next to the coffee table. The other boy's eyes are riveted on the girl the entire time he speaks, and he sounds a lot drunker than he looks. Now he can see how badly Igarashi craves Misaki's attention. Even he has a vulnerability, Takumi notes. She does not respond.
"Well, what would you like to do now?" Takumi inquires. He supposes that if he is hired for his services as a butler, he might as well earn his keep.
"I should go home, Tora. I've been gone too long," Misaki interjects. Igarashi reaches for her hand, lacing his fingers through hers.
"I'm not going to let you go home to that bastard," he growls, pressing a kiss to the bruise on the inside of Misaki's wrist. A new, possessive rage burns through Takumi, making him clench his jaw. The valet meets his gaze over Igarashi's head, a warning in his eyes.
She flinches. "It'll be okay. You know my dad's temper is short-lived." Hearing the words from her lips is unnerving. Takumi hates that she sounds uncertain, as if she was trying to convince herself that it was true. "President, thank you for bringing me here, but my dad will be worried."
"This will be your home soon enough," Igarashi pronounces, circling her wrist with his thumb and forefinger. "You don't have to go back. I'll keep you safe here. I even brought your President here."
Takumi narrows his eyes. Is that the real reason for Igarashi's abduction? Is he then just a carrot for Igarashi to dangle in front of Misaki? The look on her face is gentle as she presses a kiss on Igarashi's forehead. "It's okay, Tora. Don't sulk. I'll be back for the party. Thanks for coming, President Usui, and please do not worry. I'm going to be fine."
Ah, yes. The legendary composure of Seika's Queen is back. She rises, her head bowed to him. "Have you eaten yet?" Takumi blurts out, catching her off guard. If Igarashi is this concerned about her going back, it must be serious.
Igarashi sits up, his face hopeful. "No, she hasn't. She's just had the IV drip, right?"
"I- ah," she begins, but the valet nods.
"Yes, Lady Genji has not eaten anything today," he announces in his accented Japanese. She glares at him, almost playfully. Takumi wonders if she knows about their relationship.
"I'll cook your omurice," he offers, seeing her waver.
"You'll what?" Igarashi gasps. "Wait, you can actually cook?"
"I'll cook one for you too," Takumi sighs. "Let's go to the kitchen." He sees the first genuine smile cross Misaki's face.
"What's an omurice?" Igarashi asks, rising to his feet unsteadily. The valet catches his arm before he can tip over. Misaki laughs. Takumi ignores the rush of warmth that spreads through him at the sound.
"You'll have to take me there, I still don't know the way," he admits, shoving his hands in his pockets.
If anyone had asked Takumi a week ago if he would be eating omurice with a tycoon's son and the Queen of Seika, he would have laughed at them. And yet, here he was, serving food to them at a small wooden kitchen table, while the uniformed kitchen staff watched from the sidelines with fearful eyes.
"I did not know we had furniture like this," Igarashi admits, running his hand on the scratched linoleum surface. "Better not let Cecilia know that this exists in the house, else she'd set the whole place on fire."
"You have to be nicer to your mother," Misaki scolds, scooping a spoonful of rice and egg. "You're lucky to have one." She makes a happy sound when she takes a bite.
Igarashi pouts like a little boy. "Moms are a pain in the butt, right, Takumi?"
"I wouldn't know, my mom ran off when I was little," Takumi admits, shoveling some food in his mouth. Silence greets his announcement.
Misaki averts her gaze, and Igarashi stares at him in astonishment. "What did you do?"
"What do you mean?" Misaki snaps. "It's rude of you to say that."
"Hey, he must have done something to drive her away. Did you do something? Or was it your father?" Igarashi asks matter-of-factly, spooning more egg into his mouth.
"Tora," Misaki hisses. "This is none of our business."
What the hell, Takumi thinks. He may as well tell them the truth. "It was my dad."
"Pardon?" Igarashi props his chin on his fist, setting his full attention on Takumi.
"My mother was a nurse, and she was popular at the exclusive hospital that she worked at. She was always being pursued by the patients who wouldn't believe she was married. It drove my father nuts, since he didn't approve of her working after she had us." Takumi pauses to drink some water. "My dad ended up drinking a lot, thanks to his work. One night he caught her getting embraced by a patient when he picked her up. He lost control and beat her. When we woke up the next day she was gone. Did that answer your question?"
He looks up to find Misaki's eyes filling with tears. Uncomfortable, he stands up. "Does anyone want seconds?"
"For half-cooked egg?" Igarashi drawls, scooping the last of his food into his mouth. "Well, it isn't terrible. I don't know if I want more."
The door opens, and another boy walks in. He is closer to their age, though he has the same bored look on his face. "Ah, here you are. Cecilia told me you were back. Lady Genji, good evening. And might this be the rumoured President of Seika?" he smirks, as he scans Takumi. "Wow, I didn't know you started taking on charity cases, Tora."
Misaki moves fast, so fast that Takumi barely sees it. In the next moment, the boy is on the floor, flat on his back, her heel on his chest. "Sorry," she says mildly, grinding the heel of her sandals on the white shirt. "I must have lost my balance."
"Damn it, you may be a Genji, but you're just a damn wo-" His curse is cut off by the sight of Misaki picking up a steak knife, and checking her teeth in the reflection.
"You were saying?" Igarashi yawns, stretching as he gets to his feet. "You better not let Mother hear you disparaging her gender, Kanade. She would have your balls in a vise." He squats beside the prone boy, tapping his cheek in a parody of affection. The kitchen staff suddenly busies themselves with doing random tasks, all of them averting their gazes.
Takumi surprises himself by grabbing Misaki's wrist. "You shouldn't be exerting yourself so much," he scolds. "You're still too pale." His suspicions are correct; she sways, off balance, and he catches her in his arms again. "You can barely stand, damn it."
"Misa," Tora calls, "Is he right? Are you okay?"
"Just a bit tired," she mutters, and now Takumi can hear annoyance in her voice. "I'm fine. I just need to go home." Misaki shoves at his chest until he lets her stand up.
"You aren't going anywhere," Takumi announces, scowling. "I'm taking her back to her room, Tora." Great, now he's on a first-name basis with Igarashi. He picks Misaki up easily, worried by how fragile she feels in his arms. Without waiting for an answer, he strides out the doors. "Stupid Ayuzawa, what are you doing, attacking that random person? You shouldn't ever use violence, unless it is the last resort."
After a few turns down unfamiliar corridors, Takumi comes to a full stop.
"You're lost, aren't you?" The amusement in Misaki's voice would usually irritate him, but she sounds so much like the Ayuzawa from school, that it is comforting. "Let me down, your arms must be killing you. I'm pretty heavy, President. I can walk."
"No," he replies, holding her tighter. "Just tell me how to get back."
She directs him, a little more subdued now, and after a few minutes, he is depositing her on the bed. When he turns to leave, she grabs his sleeve. "Don't go yet."
"What is it?" he asks, sitting down at her bedside.
"Why do you take care of me?" she asked, her eyes gleaming gold in the lamplight.
"It's my job as Student Council President. You're a student," he blusters. "Why do they call you Lady Genji?"
Her eyes go dim. "It's an old, hereditary title. A little out-of date, no longer relevant, but it was important to the Igarashis to add some pedigree to their new money, so here we are."
"Here we are," he echoes, his gaze drawn to her lips. Pink and plump, and now Takumi knows how soft they are, what she tastes like. She reaches up with her fingers, hovering over his own mouth.
"I'm not really a lady," Misaki whispers.
"I know," he replies, holding his breath as she traces his lips lightly.
"Your new haircut looks nice," she adds, her fingers going to his hair. "I like it." He closes his eyes, fighting the urge to purr. Now she traces his ears lightly, sending chills down his spine. "Did Tora's stylist do it? She's a genius."
He doesn't have the heart to tell her that he caught Igarashi in bed with the hairdresser, but his discomfort must have appeared on his face, because she sighs, "Don't worry, President. I know about Tora's… activities."
"Then why are you still…" Takumi stops, his eyes going to the bruise on her cheek. "Is it that bad at home, that you will marry a cheater just to get out?"
"Tora is my best friend," she says, her eyes shuttering. "And he is more damaged than I am, so don't judge him. As for me… you're right. I should stop flirting with you, President."
"You are announcing your wedding date in two days," Takumi agrees, rising to his feet, desperate to get away from this situation now. "And I should go."
"You should," she nods, averting her gaze.
He walks to the door, closing it behind him. Misaki- no, Ayuzawa is off-limits, now and forever. He would do well to remember that, he tells himself. It may be too late for him not to fall for her, but he can stay away. That much, he can do.
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A/N II: OMG. Is this the end for our star-crossed couple? What is going to happen tomorrow?