Chapter –10: All That Glitters

It'd been nearly a year, now.

But Fai and Yuui barely noticed the passing. For the entire past year, they were too busy trying to forget the fact that they'd never see their family again. Too busy trying to instill in their minds that they had a new family, and no amount of crying or hitting or throwing—or attempts to run away—were going to change that. And they were too busy trying to figure out how to speak this new language in this country and adjusting to their newly appointed jobs as Kyle's newsboys.

The job, the housing, the food was all more or less pleasant—passive. It wasn't extremely elegant or the like, but it was always more towards good rather than bad. Even the company was lovely, in Fai's eyes. They had friends, Yuui and he did. New friends. Interesting friends…odd friends.

They met Seishiro Sakurazuka. As the oldest at seventeen, he was something of the head newsboy, aside from Ashura, who was the second eldest at fifteen. The other boys, some nameless to the twins and some not, were scattered throughout the ages of fourteen and six. It was quite a sly balance of ages—just before they were legal adults and just after they were old enough to be without mothers.

Seishiro was odd—all black hair and calculating eyes. One of the oddest. Or perhaps, just the oddest. But he seemed to love Fai and Yuui. And mostly just Yuui. In the way that he always reserved extra sweets for Fai's brother, Fai would say that even though Seishiro definitely didn't hate him, the oldest newsboy at least definitely favored Yuui above Fai. For one reason or another.

And then there was Subaru—just a year older than the twins. Subaru Sumeragi. Otherwise known as utterly Seishiro's property. Subaru seemed the best fit for Seishiro—Fai and Yuui learned long since their time here that boys should love boys, and not girls, because girls would only cause trouble in more ways than one—ways that no one seemed to care to explain to them. Subaru was pretty and pale—just like Seishiro in the regard of thick, black hair—with the prettiest green eyes. Bright, like the jewels Fai had once watched his mother put around her white throat.

Fai's choice of complete adoration, however, would have to be Kamui. Kamui Shirou was just a little thing of eight years old—only three years younger than Fai himself—and the most precious little thing. His lips were fuller, and his hair was darker and softer, and his eyes more brilliant than even the youngest boys present. Kyle didn't allow the boys to begin delivering anywhere out of the blocks surrounding their building until they reached the age of nine, meaning Kamui was just doing short distances—a few buildings left, and few right.

But of course, none of them were anything close to Ashura. Ashura Ou. Four years older than Fai, and with eyes that glittered like stars. Ashura was trying to learn the language, too—as Kamui, Subaru, and Seishiro were all already fluent. No one could understand Yuui and Fai's difficulty in a new country except for Ashura. And only Ashura came from a neighboring country to Fai and Yuui's own home. Their old language and customs and food and everything…they were all similar.

And while Ashura seemed to like Yuui fine, Fai knew that Ashura liked him best—liked him especially.

It'd taken half a year of proof relayed again and again in Fai's mind to assure to himself that Ashura did like him. Half a year of Ashura offering to accompany him on his deliveries; half a year of Ashura tugging at Fai's hair and smiling; half a year of Ashura sneaking into his bed in the middle of the night with nicked sweets from the kitchens; half a year of Ashura offering to carry the bag of newspapers for him; half a year of Ashura looking at him with those eyes that glitter like stars—stars that Fai hadn't seen since he and Yuui had left their own country; because with the city lights, there wasn't any dark for stars.

Seeing Ashura's eyes glitter every time Fai returned from a delivery round made Fai's heart thud the same way it always did when he watched the stars—when he still had his family. He'd even told Ashura once.

He'd told him while they hid under Fai's bedcovers.

And all Ashura had said, looking at Fai's eyes and then the window above the headboard, with a sad smile was, "Maman told me once…that all that glitters is not gold."

Fai had glanced up at the night sky beyond the oval window. "What does that have to do with the stars? Stars aren't made of gold. Mamma always told Yuui and I are they are made of fairy dust."

"But stars glitter, do they not? That is what you always say. And gold is precious. In both our countries. And in this one, too. So perhaps…since stars glitter and they are not made of gold…maybe stars are more precious. But the more precious something is, and the more people want it, the more it hurts to lose it. Maybe holding gold above stars is better."

Fai had grown accustomed to the city lights in place of the stars he missed so much. And sometimes, this time, he believed that he could learn to love them just as he loved the stars. Before they'd left the country, their father had told him to always love their home country, but to find new things in this new, free country to love just as much. "But things hurt for a reason. The more something hurts, the more it feels good when it is right."

Ashura had tugged at a lock of his hair—the way he'd done only seconds after their first meeting, when he'd first told Fai in broken speech that the twins' fair hair was like gold—and continued smiling that sad smile. "Things hurt more than they are right."

"I can make the hurt leave," Fai had whispered. He put his fingers on Ashura's sadly smiling lips. "Smile happier. Like this." His blue eyes closed up into the brightest smile he knew how.

And Ashura had just remained still—looking sadder than ever. Sad and scared. Two things Fai had never seen him.

That'd been the first time Fai had seen such expressions on Ashura's face. The second and only other time was now. Now, when Ashura had one hand at the base of Fai's spine, as they watched Seishiro lead Yuui away to a prepared room down the south wing.

"Why can't Yuui stay with us?" Fai glanced up at Ashura, his eyes furrowing as he stroked the silk of Ashura's bed robe. "Didn't you already bathe? You'll catch cold if you don't put clothes on." He smiled unsurely, "Seishiro didn't have any clothes either…"

Fai's head bobbed as he felt the weight of Ashura's hand come down. "Come on. Let's go to my room. You haven't ever been there, right?"

Ashura's room was far larger than the one Fai and Yuui shared. The one Fai and Yuui shared was much like the rooms the other boys used—much like a room in any boarding house. Slightly cramped, wooden, rickety furniture, and a creaking bed with yellowed sheets.

This room was at least thrice that size—a wardrobe and vanity cornered to one side, a bed pushed in another, and a full-length mirror hung on the wall beside the door. The chairs and tables were all clean and white—as if someone dusted them and made them every day. There were clothes lying here and there—trademarks that a fifteen-year-old did indeed occupy the room—and Ashura's Gatsby and delivery bag hung on one of the pegs nailed into the wall.

Fai stood to the side of the door, unsure of what he should be doing, as he watched Ashura lock them in. "Over there," Ashura said, turning to him and nodding toward a small door next to the vanity, "if you go through, there is a bath already prepared. You should take it."

The eleven-year-old bit his lip. "Why…do I need to…? I already bathed yesterday. We're only supposed to bathe twice a week, remember?"

A little crease appeared between Ashura's eyebrows. He stepped to Fai and placed one hand against the boy's cheek. Fai's heart thumped. Once. Twice. He swallowed as he felt Ashura's thumb brush over the line of his cheekbone. "It will help," Ashura said softly—sadly. "Hurry now. While the water is still warm. I'll wash you."

Naked.

That was the first thing in Fai's mind. Ashura was about to see him naked. "Have you…" Fai grasped at something to bring this thought to bay. "Have you bathed?"

Ashura gave a tiny smile. He curled his fingers gently against Fai's cheek and brought his face into the dark, shoulder-length hair. So close, that when Fai blinked, he could feel his eyelashes bump against Ashura's throat. "Do you think I have? Breathe, and say."

But at this proximity, it was rather hard for Fai to remember how to.

It was more than obvious that Ashura had bathed. Fai could smell the soap wafting from him by just standing feet away—but with his own nose to Ashura's hair and throat, the scent wasn't just pleasantly floating. It was absolutely rendering Fai's entire body lifeless. A sensory overload. Fai's hands were limp at his sides. He suddenly wanted to get away from Ashura—he himself, after all, was still covered in city grime from the day's deliveries. He hadn't even had had time to change when Ashura and Seishiro had appeared after dinner, more or less dragging him and Yuui away without another word.

Fai backed a step and smiling hesitantly. "I'll…I'll bathe now."

Ashura returned the smile infinitesimally. "Yes."

It wasn't until after Fai had dried himself with the towel in the bathing chamber, and gotten out of the tub that he'd realized he didn't have a change of clothes. And that it was rather brisk, despite the fact that it was only the very beginning of autumn. He wrapped the towel around himself, and shook the droplets out of his bangs and eyes as much as he could.

He found Ashura sitting on the bed, back facing Fai. "Ashura," he called quietly. "My clothes are in my room. I haven't brought any. Should I—"

Ashura turned his head—face wiped clean of smiles and expression. "You'll not need clothes for tonight. I'll have your clothes for the morn." He stood up and began walking to Fai, and Fai—for a reason he himself couldn't explain—began to back away. The sash that held Ashura's robe closed was beginning to fall. Fai's eyes followed the line of skin that fell from the older boy's throat.

"Lie with me," Ashura said, catching Fai's wrist. "Come. Come here." Fai flickered his gaze to Ashura's eyes and his eyebrows shot up, his eyes shot wide. Ashura's jaw was set stonily—his entire face expressionless, save for the tiniest glitter in his eyes, reflecting the dim lighting in the room.

"Lie…" Fai began to repeat, subconsciously. "With…" He realized that Ashura was leading him back toward the bed. His free hand clenched at the towel around his waist. "You want me to sleep with you?"

"Yes." Ashura guided Fai onto the bed. "Lie down."

"Sleep with no clothes…? I'll catch cold," Fai protested, frowning. He sat against one of the pillows. "Let me have my clothes. I'll return. I'll sleep with you, then."

Ashura placed his hand over the small, pale hand that held Fai's towel. He dug his fingers over the knuckles gently and tugged. "Off," Ashura murmured against Fai's cheek. "Take the towel off."

Fai had sensed something terribly wrong from the moment Seishiro had led Yuui off. That sense had grown with every moment he spent alone here with Ashura. He didn't know what could possibly happen to him, but his body urged to run—his heart hammered wildly, screaming at him to move, to do something but nothing. Run. Flee. Shout. Scream.

Fai bit his lip. He looked at Ashura's eyes. They glittered, but not like stars. They glittered with something else entirely. Something that frightened Fai—something deceitful and dangerous. "No. I don't want to."

Ashura's eyes begged Fai to take his words back. "Take it off," he said again—it sounded like a plea, almost. "Please."

Fai shook his head, terrified.

Ashura sighed. His eyes were pleading again—groveling and begging. "Please." Now his voice cracked. He touched Fai's bare shoulder. "Please, Fai. Take it off. You'll understand why. Please just take it off."

Fai didn't move. His breathing stopped.

Ashura's throat contracted, and Fai could see his teeth clench. His eyes pleaded on more time. Fai still did not move. The seconds between that action and reaction seemed to slow. Thicken. Stone. Freeze.

Everything else that followed couldn't have gone fast enough.

Ashura shoved Fai onto his stomach, yanked his sash from his robe, and whipped it around his wrist swiftly, using the end to wrap around Fai's wrists. He tied them to the headboard and knotted with all the skill of a sailor. Fai hadn't had time to gasp. Ashura's eyes didn't once meet his. They remained anywhere but.

The older boy slid Fai's towel off and threw it to the floor. Fai was frozen. He didn't know what was about to happen—he didn't know what was happening. He just knew that the terror had seized his body, and he was too terrified to move. As clichéd as it sounded, it was precisely like a nightmare. When terror took you, it took all of you relentlessly. You couldn't move. You couldn't process.

"Ashura," Fai breathed shallowly against the cloth of the pillow. His scalp was cold from his wet hair, and the sweat formed uncomfortably against the back of his neck. "Stop. Please stop?"

No response.

He felt a hand at his side. Another hand between his shoulder blades.

Both of them slid down his body simultaneously. One to his lower back, and the other to curve around to grab between his legs.

No

Fai struggled, kicking his legs. A heavy weight landed on them. He could feel Ashura straddling his thighs—trapping him fully against the bed. His face heated as he felt Ashura—a part of Ashura—move against his thighs. A private part. A part of him that no one had seen except Yuui and his mother. A private part that he had never seen except on Yuui. A part no one had ever touched. A part his mother told him to never let anyone else touch. Two private parts.

And Ashura's hand was wrapping around one, and the other hand was touching the other—fingers stroking, fingers probing. Fai couldn't think. He just felt something good and something strange. He couldn't think. He couldn't speak. Words simply fell, screaming, from his mouth. "Non facciamo che!"

This wasn't Ashura. This couldn't be. Ashura was soft and kind and quiet and touched Fai with small, hesitant touches. Not brutal grabs and snatches. He touched Fai's hair and called it gold, and smiled at Fai's eyes and lips and called them beautiful. This wasn't Ashura. It couldn't be.

Why was this happening—

Gasp

"Fa male!"

It hurt.

So. So. So. Much.

It really hurt.

There was something inside of him.

Ashura

He couldn't think. He just screamed. At least he was allowed to scream.

"Fermare! Si prega di smettere!"

Of course Ashura didn't listen. Ashura couldn't even understand. Fai was just screaming because he hurt so much. It hurt. The pain hurt—it throbbed through Fai's body. But not just the pain. It was Ashura—so it hurt.

But it felt good, too.

That hurt more. It scared Fai.

"Fa male." Fai's body lay limp on top of the sheets, as Ashura untied his wrists. His voice was barely more than a whisper—barely audible at all. "Fa male. Perche? Fa male. Tanto. Fermare. Prego." His words tumbled out tonelessly—he himself hardly hearing them. He couldn't hear. He could hear or see or feel or taste or smell. He was too tired. He hurt too much. "Ashura. Perche?"

Fai lifted his head. But Ashura was across the room. Bent over the vanity. Fai swallowed, and collapsed back. He couldn't hold his head up for more than a moment, before the room began to spin, and he felt the urge to vomit. He tried to ignore the throbbing and the warm liquid dripping on the inside of his thighs and huddled between his stomach and the damp sheets. He tried to think—to translate. "Why?" he finally managed hoarsely, as Ashura walked back, in his hands a large bowl, and a bucket. He set it on the nightstand.

Ashura still had not looked at him. Not once through everything. Not once since before the bath. The older boy sat at the edge of the bed, and picked up the fallen towel. He drenched it in the water within the large bowl. "This might sting," he murmured, fingers lightly gracing the curve of Fai's back. Fai's muscles strung up. "Relax. It's over. Relax."

Fai couldn't. "Si prega di non," he said, his voice breaking. He felt warmth pool into a film over his eyes. "Please. Ashura. Please don't." He buried his face in the pillow. He didn't want Ashura anymore. He didn't want to look. It hurt so much. He didn't even know what this was.

Ashura twisted around and bent, his face close to Fai's. Fai felt fingers prying his chin from the pillow. "Fai. Shh. Look. Turn. Please? Everything that hurt? I am not going to do anymore. None. I'm trying to make it better. Please turn. Just look. You can look. Open your eyes. You can cry. You'll stay here. You'll be safe. I'm safe."

Fai gritted his teeth, and moved his head, opening his stinging, damp eyes. He'd rather be blind if Ashura was going to look the way he did only minutes ago.

The dark glittering eyes were back. The dark stars. Beautiful. And sad. So devastatingly sad. "Je suis désolé." Ashura smiled—a thousand kinds of pain in one smile. "See? I can still speak mine, too." He touched Fai's hair. "L'or et de beau." Ashura stroked his cheek. "Now please, relax. Breathe in and out. If you need to vomit, I brought a bucket."

Fai breathed in.

Ashura's hand carefully slid down to that private part.

Fai breathed out.

The warm, wet towel dipped in to the hurt.

Fai gasped and closed his eyes.

"I know," Ashura murmured. "I know. And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Fai repeated the question that still remained without an answer, "Why?"

"Because you are a newsboy—we all are," Ashura said, his voice soothing and low. His hand stroked Fai's cheek again, before returning to that spot between Fai's legs, cleaning and drying. "Kyle's newsboys aren't supposed to only deliver newspapers. They deliver much else. They deliver what I have just taken and done with you. As soon as they are old enough. Seishiro is doing the same with Yuui."

Fai gripped Ashura's wrist in mid-movement. "Yuui?"

Ashura simply raised his wrist and brought Fai's white knuckles to his lips. "There is no such thing as a simple life in the city. Immigrants are disposable. No one wants us. But us—some of us—are beautiful. The beautiful ones are used. While we're beautiful and young and small, we're wanted. Wanted. So we deliver. We live better."

Fai felt the warmth in his lower body fade—even though the pain remained. Ashura straightened up from the bed and knelt on the floor, his hand on Fai's upper arm. His lips wrought themselves into another smile so pained it hurt Fai to look at it. "Sleep on your stomach. The wound will heal. It will heal in two weeks. After that, you will deliver. Not only newspapers—but yourself. I tied you, I used no oil. Your customers will. The first time should always be the worst—in that way, you're already braced for anything else. Every time after this will feel like bliss."

Fai opened his mouth to speak, but his eyes were already fighting to close. "Ashura…wait…"

The older boy touched Fai's lips. "Sleep."

"Will you…?" Fai's hand gripped the blanket.

Ashura was at the vanity—about to off the lantern. He turned his head and his face fell into an expressionless smile, his eyes glittering like a lullaby. "The stars will stay with you. Goodnight, Fai."

A/N: ...........Well. Yeah. And if any of you say that Ashura's a bastard, I'm going to drop-kick you. Kyle made him and Seishiro do this. Ashura isn't a bastard! *sniffle* He's a psycho, God! Seishiro's the bastard. But then again, we already knew that. All of the "newsboys" go through this. It's like a twisted initiation rite. Ashura and Seishiro are usually the ones doing it, since they're the eldest, but occasionally, someone else will have the honors. Or dishonors. Either one. Usually, if a younger newsboy who just comes of the age has made an older close friend, Kyle has that friend do the first time. It's to teach them that you can't trust anyone. And that falling in love with anyone--especially the customer--will prove to ruin everything. The "age" is eleven, because boys start puberty at ten--so I know for a fact that a year after puberty starts (maybe even THE year puberty starts)--kids can orgasm.

I used Google Translator for the translations, so if you can speak the language, don't blowtorch me. (I'll give you a cupcake...)