I'm not the type to be picky about getting reviews, and I don't write to get reviewers. But it's incredibly frustrating when one gets a lot of reviews for the first chapter, and almost none for the second. Are people just not reading this anymore? Honestly, if I don't get enough feedback, I will take this down. This story is an experiment, and if no one's reading it, then there's really no reason for me to update this any further. Just saying.

"Come on," Marui said coaxingly once Akaya had stopped hurling things at the wall. "Tell me what happened. I won't laugh, promise."

Akaya gave him a look.

"Fine, I don't promise. But I'll try! It's only going hurt more if you bottle it up," Marui said with a tone that was just screaming I'm so awesome. "I should know—I'm a genius."

His friend scowled and flopped onto the couch. "Fine, you really want to know?"

Marui huffed. "You think?"

"Fine, I'll tell you. Okay, so…"

Akaya straightened his tie and tried to breathe deeply. He'd been on plenty of dates before—some in the same night. And he was certainly an expert at wooing women; his looks kind of guaranteed that for him. He'd go off into a showy speech about how he had spent his whole life as whatever he was posing to be, how his parents never loved him and he searched for comfort in the arms of many, and how they'd all broken his heart until he'd met whoever he was trying to woo. A smile, a wink, and a toss of his hair had been all it had taken to make a mass of girls swoon.

"It's going to be different with guys though," Marui had told him. The older reporter had offered to give him some tips on how to act gay before he'd left for his date, and Akaya had gratefully accepted them. "I mean, with girls you just kind of seduce them. But with guys, you have to be all deep and meaningful. They're into that stuff. Make sure you comment on how great he looks when you get there, and say something about how his tie matches his beautiful, vivid eyes.

"Then you pull out the chair for him—to kind of show that you're the guy in this relationship, and that you're someone he can depend on. Always ask him what he wants before you order for yourself. And pour the wine for him." At this point, Marui wagged his eyebrows. "If you're lucky, he might just get drunk, and you'll actually have a chance with him!

"Okay, so then, you make small talk. Let him talk—always let him talk, and pretend to relate to whatever he's saying. And if he asks you something, start talking about the dramatics of your childhood, like you were beat up as a child and your father was al alcoholic or something. And how you vowed never to love, but then you found him, and how you're drowning in the depths of his cerulean eyes—" Marui sighed dreamily.

Akaya had merely arched an eyebrow. "That's scary," he'd said.

But now, he was wishing he'd paid a bit more attention.

He hesitantly walked toward the restaurant. Yukimura had texted him an hour ago, asking that he show up at the address by eight in the evening. He glanced up at the building. It was one of those fancy French restaurants, where people ate snails, pretended to like it, then threw up in the bathroom when they thought no one was looking.

The man in front of the door gave a quick bow. "Do you have a reservation, sir?"

"Uh, yeah. I'm with Yukimura Seiichi. I think we've got a reservation for two."

Immediately, the door was opened for him and he was ushered inside. Akaya frowned and surveyed the restaurant. It was awfully large, and the tables were all decent lengths apart. It took him a while to find Yukimura, and when he did, he realized that the table was in the very back. Next to the little table of roses and candles, and that weird wine holding thing. It looked completely romantic, even a bit suggestive. Yukimura sat there, fiddling with his tie and staring serenely at the candles. The fire illuminated his brilliant blue eyes, and at that moment, Akaya decided that the effeminate tennis player looked like an angel.

He wondered if he could make a quick getaway.

"You showed up!" Yukimura suddenly exclaimed, delighted.

Guess not.

Akaya smiled, though the smile came out looking much more like a grimace. He made his way to the table (which was in the very back!) and put his hands in his pockets in a meager attempt to look cool.

"Sure did," he answered weakly, and stood there, awkwardly. He cleared his throat. If he was going to do this, then he was going to be the dominant one in the relationship. So what if he was a year younger? Yukimura looked like a girl and he didn't. That was enough evidence for him. "So, uh..." He played with his tie as seductively as he could. "..." And that was when he realized he had absolutely no idea what he was supposed to say.

"Oh! Please excuse my horrible manners," the blunette said politely, and pulled out a chair for him. Akaya mentally smacked himself on the forehead. Way to be a man, Akaya. Way to be a man.

So he sat down like the woman he was going to have to act like for the rest of the date.

God, this was hell.

Akaya cleared his throat, and Yukimura smiled intently at him. And just as the reporter was about to go into a fancy speech about Yukimura's beautiful eyes, Yukimura said, "My, your eyes are a brilliant green. Like Colombian emeralds. I could stare into them forever." His voice was smooth, no discomfort in them at all. "They remind me of the meadow I wandered into as a child." He chuckled, and added, "It was a rather romantic setting."

Akaya blanched.

This guy was stealing all of his lines.

All of them.

And while Akaya wasn't looking forward to acting gay, he also hated sitting there like an idiot and staring into Yukimura's eyes (which actually were very daunting). "I—I, uh…"

Yukimura smiled sweetly. "I can't believe I was so lucky as to get a date with you. You're endearing, adorable. Goodness, I wish I could find the words to describe you—you could put a rose to shame, Aka-chan."

Oh, God.

Did he just…?

He didn't.

He did!

"Excuse me," Akaya huffed, "but what did you call me?"

"Adorable," he chuckled. "You know… as in, cute? You're so cute, Aka-chan."

"That's what I thought you called me." Akaya took a deep breath and answered stiffly, "Thank you. Your eyes are… uh… That is, they're…"

Yukimura chuckled. "Oh, you don't need to respond, darling. I'm content just staring those emerald jewels." And the tennis player just stared at him, as if waiting for a response.

He stared.

And stared.

And stared.

And finally, Akaya blurted, "You look pretty!"

Wow. Totally smooth, Akaya. Totally smooth.

Akaya groaned inwardly and grabbed the wine.

Yukimura bubbled with laughter. "Why, thank you! But not as pretty as the… delightful gem sitting across from me." He licked his lips, and Akaya shivered at the look in his date's eyes.

The You-should-probably-change-the-conversation-before-I-molest-you look.

As if to complete the gesture, Yukimura leaned forward on the table and whispered into Akaya's neck, "It really is such an honor to be here with you."

Akaya convulsed.

On the inside.

Because even though he ought to have thrown manners out the window by now, he was still sane enough to know that throwing up on his date probably wouldn't help his cause.

With a grimace, Akaya dumped half the bottle into his flute and took a long sip. "Right. Well, tell me about yourself," he said, remembering Marui's words. "Have you always played tennis?"

"You see," Yukimura said cheerily, "I was abused as a child. My mother never loved me and my father was always trying to mold me into someone I knew I would never be. I constantly searched for love—and I found many people who promised me, though in the end, they always broke my heart. Tennis became the only solace I had, and I vowed never to love again—until I met you."

Well.

That sounded oddly familiar.

"That's tragic," Akaya answered slowly, and took another long drink of wine.

"It is," Yukimura said, averting his eyes and turning to the candles again.

Akaya had a feeling that Yukimura knew how the fire from the candles made him look godly.

He resented him for that.

"But now I have you," Yukimura said brightly. "So, why'd you decide to go to my tennis game that day?"

He coughed awkwardly and quickly drank more wine.

My glass looks funny when it's empty, he thought deliriously, and poured more. "I felt like it," he said in a slur. "You got a problem with that?"

Yukimura seemed startled. "Well, of course not. I'm honored you'd choose to watch my game."

"Damn straight," he grumbled, and tossed back another shot. Akaya wasn't the type to get drunk—in fact, he rarely drank at all. Most of the time, it was just for show (girls do love a guy who takes a refined sip of red wine now and again), but he almost never finished a whole bottle—or a glass, for that matter—in one night.

Then again, this was a… special occasion.

Yukimura seemed amused. "Should I order another bottle of wine?" he offered. "It's very good, indeed. I have my own set at home." He grinned. "You should visit, sometime, to check it out. I'm sure you'd find it very interesting." And he laughed that gentle, trickling laugh of his.

Akaya mumbled something incoherent.

"Excuse me? I'm sorry, I didn't catch that—I was too entranced by your amazing figure."

Oh, he so knew how uncomfortable Akaya was.

And he was so doing this on purpose.

…It was so working.

"You're mean," Akaya finally grumbled, grabbing the wine that the waiter had just set on the table and immediately pouring a glass. "You're like that kid in my class from seventh grade." A long chug. "He-he was mean. He used to hide my uniform in the locker rooms. And-and…" He poured more, and swallowed it all in one swig. "And I had a pet rabbit."

"You had a rabbit?" Yukimura asked, slightly confused but mostly amused.

"He was—he was such a good bunny," Akaya said dazedly. "Not a mean bunny. He was a good bunny."

"You're drunk," Yukimura realized.

"Am not!" Akaya glared at him, offended. "Listen! He-he had white fur, and red eyes and he was a loyal bunny… Really loyal. Like, really loyal."

"I'm sure he was," the blunette replied, smiling in that knowing way. "Perhaps I should escort you home now."

"You don't want to hear about the bunny?" Akaya screeched, pounding on the table. Then he collapsed onto the chair, mumbling sadly, "He was such a good bunny, such a good bunny…"

"I'll escort you home," Yukimura decided, and after placing a large check on the table, took Akaya's arm and led him out of the restaurant.

"You stole my shoes in third grade," he suddenly blurted. "You stole my shoes! Give me back my shoes!"

"What?"

"My shoes! I want my shoes! I want—I want my shoes!"

"But—"

"Shoe thief! You stupid, obnoxious, blue haired shoe thief—"

"If you'd just listen—"

"My bunny! My bunny was in my shoes, and you took—"

"Please, just—"

"I want my shoes," Akaya wept, collapsing on the sidewalk. "I want my shoes back." His rants collapsed into a round of sobs, and while Yukimura considered himself to be a very kind person, he couldn't help but burst in explosive laughter at the exchange.

"I'll walk you home," he said gently, trying to hold the giggles back, "and then we'll find your shoes, okay?"

"Okay," he sniffled, and Yukimura pulled him back up.

And he fell back down right after.

They'd barely made it past five steps when Akaya started to insist that he walk home by himself. Yukimura seemed to find the notion especially hilarious, considering Akaya couldn't really walk—or stand, for that matter.

But even in his drunken haze, Akaya knew that having Yukimura know his address would be a very bad thing indeed.

Thus began the walk home alone.

(It should probably be mentioned that he never touched a drop of alcohol after that incident.)

I know I said Yukimura's intentions would be revealed in this chapter, but I really can't include it in this chapter. The next one, promise! And now, the preview:

"Promise you won't hurt him," Sanada finally said, sounding strangely serene. "He puts up such a sadistic front—"

Akaya snapped, "You think?"

"—but he's a delicate person at heart. He's fragile. Protect him for me."

With a sigh of resignation, he agreed, "I will."

And just like that, Sanada's kind demeanor vanished. "Good. Because if you break his heart, I'll break your neck."

Akaya took that as a sign to run home.