summary: Chances like this don't come by often in Yukio's life and when it does, he makes sure to hold on tight. After all, finding someone like this only happens once in a lifetime.
a/n: this is the first part of the alternate version of "Once Upon a Time". the beginning is basically the same with a bit of editing for transitioning purposes, so enjoy. warnings and disclaimer on previous chapter still applies.
Once in a Lifetime
As the sweaty bodies of the crowd pressed against him, Yukio once again thought to himself that club scenes just weren't his thing. Each time he felt the feeling of skin against his own, he had to suppress the urge to pull out his guns; however, that didn't stop him from tightening his grip around his precious babies. Who knew what kind of sickos lurked in these rat-infested houses they call nightclubs? Already, he had had seven different people grope him. In public. They were lucky there weren't a lot of lights in here and he didn't catch their faces, or else he'd have blown their hands off.
But really, he had no one to blame but himself for trusting that indecent woman. What did he think was going to happen when she forced those damnable contacts on him, stole his normal clothing while he was in the shower, and left him with only a scanty leather ensemble in his entire closet? That they were going for dinner at a respectable restaurant? For God's sake, he was practically naked in the scraps of fabrics people dare call clothes. The only person in the club who was revealing more skin than him was Shura herself, and possibly some other people like him looking to get laid.
Gah, what was he thinking? Yukio ran a hand through his mussed hair and rubbed his temples. He didn't need to get laid! The stifling heat combined with the salty scent of sweat made his head spin, and once again, he cursed his luck for ever having crossed paths with Kirigakure Shura.
Yukio sighed at his general misfortune before slowly manoeuvring through the densely packed bodies and making his way to the bar. He really needed a drink.
Not long after he settled down by the bar with a bottle of beer, Yukio felt the prickling feeling on the back of his neck that usually signalled the unwelcome gaze of a stranger. A discreet glance around showed a mysterious figure lurking on the outskirts of the dance floor. Yukio turned back to his drink, determined not to let some creeper ruin his already crappy night.
A few minutes passed, and still he could feel the unpleasant sensation of the stranger's stare. Taking one final swig of his beer before setting it down, he left the bar and headed back to the dance floor, hoping to lose the voyeur. However, no matter where he went, those eyes followed him, tracking his every move.
Yukio finally relocated to a new table on the other side of the club with a new beer in hand, but he could see the stranger making his way towards him. The strobe lights flickered over the man's profile, giving Yukio brief glances of his stalker as he melted into the crowd. His predatory gaze and confident prowl gave Yukio the distinct feeling of being hunted as prey.
Yukio scowled and sipped his beer. Some people just couldn't take a hint. His left hand slowly inched towards his gun as he continued to nurse his beer unassumingly, seizing up the stranger from the corner of his eyes. He could feel his heart rate picking up at the possibility of danger.
A sudden warm hand ghosted along the exposed back of his neck, and another grasped the arm reaching for the weapon with intent, causing Yukio to stiffen and drop his beer. Fuck, the creep was fast; he didn't even get a good look at the guy.
"Hey there, hot stuff," a dark voice purred seductively. "What's your name?"
Yukio shivered involuntarily as the voice rolled over his ears like velvet, smooth and sinful. For a moment, he froze with indecision, like a mouse cornered by the cat. Then, quick as a flash, he flipped around and pinned the stranger face-first against the bar, gripping the guy's hands on the small of his back to restrain him.
"I'm sorry, but my brother taught me not to talk to strangers," he replied, keeping his voice steady despite the frantic beating in his chest. He could feel the heat radiating off the man below him. Unwillingly, his eyes travelled up and down the man's body, appraising the muscles blatantly displayed in a tight shirt and black leather pants, and God, that firm ass – his stalker pinned below him chuckled. Yukio blushed as he caught himself checking the man out. He snapped out of his thoughts and slowly loosened his grip on the other man's wrists.
As the man straightened up to his full height, towering slightly over him, Yukio averted his eyes in mortification. After that embarrassing display in his lapse of control, Yukio couldn't bring himself to meet the man's gaze. He settled for staring at the guy's hands. Smooth creamy hands with long, tapered fingers and – "Gah! Yukio, get a hold of yourself!" He admonished himself silently.
The stranger turned around to face Yukio and rubbed his wrists gently. "You've got quite a tight grip there. I like that in a guy," he grinned teasingly.
Yukio snorted and turned back to his drink, face alight in a hot blush he hoped wasn't as visible as it felt. "Glad to know. Now leave."
Something flashed across the other man's eyes, and, out of the corner of his eyes, Yukio spied the man flashing him a boyish grin. "Playing hard to get, are we? I just love a challenge. So, care to tell me your name so I know what to scream later?"
"No."
The stranger pouted. "Can I at least get a kiss then?"
Yukio gave him a look of amusement. "No."
"Too bad." Yukio felt a hand grasp his chin and the soft press of lips against his, and his own eyes widened. A lavish sweep of the tongue prompted him to open his mouth, and the taste of burnt cinnamon assaulted his taste buds. A moan jerked out of his throat at the exploring muscle currently mapping out his mouth, brushing over teeth and gums and leaving an addictive taste that he could only describe as pure adrenaline.
Much too soon, the stranger broke the kiss and licked his lips, staring at Yukio expectantly. "Well?"
Yukio felt the breath rush out of his lungs. He could hear his heart pounding viciously, as if trying to keep pace to the bass and drums of the music. He hesitated for a moment; then, "You can call me Yukio."
"And you can just call me," the stranger winked lasciviously and patted Yukio's ass before sauntering away, blending into the crowd of dancing people.
Confused at the cryptic comment and still slightly dazed at the unexpected kiss, it took Yukio a while to process the stranger's words. By the time he regained his normal cognitive functions, the man was already gone.
"Wait!" Yukio cursed his own inattention. "Wait!" He charged into the mass of people on the dance floor, ignoring the protests of the other patrons, but try as he might, he lost sight of the stranger with the wicked tongue and crude words that sparked something in his blood. There was a sinking feeling in his gut, the feeling of letting go of something he had never fully grasped. "Wait…" He could feel the sharp edge of frustration like a blade against his throat. "Who are you?"
No one answered.
Amidst the sea of bodies, Yukio had never felt more alone.
Yukio was pissed out of his mind and stumbling over his feet as he finally stepped onto the porch of the house he shared with his family and Shura. He shoved an equally drunk Shura off his shoulders as soon as the chance presented itself, fumbling at his own pockets to find the keys to their house and ignoring the stream of slurred complaints from the other woman. After a disconcerting period of trying to pick the lock with a small twig after failing to locate his keys, the door swung open and caused Yukio to fall forward in an undignified heap. Shura giggled from her sprawled position on the ground, making no move to get up or help either herself or Yukio.
"I must say, little brother, I have never seen you this drunk in my life," an amused voice said somewhere above Yukio's head. "It is actually rather alarming."
Yukio gave him the finger without lifting his head, content to rub his cheek on the wonderfully cool wooden floors of the foyer.
The voice tsked. "Now now now, don't fall asleep here. What will the neighbours think?"
Two strong hands under his armpits hoisted him from the floor, the violent movements causing the world to spin dizzyingly. A huge jolt ran through his body, causing flashes of blue to flicker across his vision. For a fleeting moment, he became concerned that the world just exploded before his very eyes. He wondered for a second why it was so hard to breathe until a hand pushed his head to the side and allowed him to take in a lungful of air. "Wha happen?" he mumbled.
A rumbling laugh met his ears. Oh. The voice have dropped him onto his bed. Bastard.
Yukio mumbled curses into his duvet. With a great effort, he lifted his head and squinted suspiciously in the general direction of the voice. He didn't know what exactly he was expecting, and wasn't sure what to make of the person standing at the edge of his bed. He frowned at the person, unsure of what the person was doing in his room. After a while, his head began to hurt as he tried but failed to figure out who this person was and his purpose here.
The voice laughed again. "Just go to sleep, Yukio. Blame Shura in the morning."
The effort to keep his head up was too much for Yukio. He slumped down into the covers and nuzzled his pillow before falling into a deep sleep.
If he ever had a passing thought about the amount of pain caused by a thousand bullet wounds to the brain at simultaneous impact, Yukio could multiply that by infinity and still not come close to how he was feeling the moment he regained consciousness. His mouth felt full with cotton and his head was doing a passable imitation of the music at the dance club last night - that is to say, horrible, loud, and completely infuriating. In addition, his eyes were positively burning from leaving the contacts in the entire night.
Yukio tried to sit up, but gave that up as a lost cause as his sparks danced across his vision. His stomach flipped uncomfortable inside his body, threatening to push up all its contents back up his esophagus and out his mouth. With a big effort, Yukio swallowed and pushed back the bile in his mouth. He tried to twist out of his sheets and ended up teetering precariously on the edge of the bed. The world began to spin at a dizzying speed and a brief thought crossed Yukio's mind that gravity doesn't work like this before his body hit the ground.
The jarring pain registered for only a moment before Yukio blacked out from the pain.
When Yukio came to, it was to the cooling sensation of porcelain under his cheek. He moaned once, pitifully, before hurling the contents of his stomach into the toilet. Over the sound of his own ragged breathing, Yukio dimly registered his brother's mocking laughter. He shifted his head to the side and glared at the man at the doorway through slitted eyes.
"Shut up, Mephisto," Yukio grunted while flipping him the finger.
His brother ignored him, bending over and clutching his stomach as he wheezed between his chuckles.
Yukio glared, though the effect seemed lost on his brother. "You're still laughing. I must be doing something wrong."
Finally, Mephisto straightened and sauntered over to perch on the toilet, right beside Yukio's head. "You should be thanking me for bringing you here so that you didn't do this," he gestured towards the vomit with distaste, "all over your bed."
Mephisto took the grunt Yukio let out as the apology it wasn't and patted his little brother patronizingly on the head. Yukio gritted his teeth over the new wave of nausea that sent and promptly heaved into the toilet. Mephisto sighed, as if amused at his sibling's pain. "Painkillers in the cabinet little brother. Ciao!" He said with a jaunty wave and a bounce in his step as he left the bathroom.
Yukio mustered enough strength to glare hatefully at the retreating back. Of course, Mephisto wouldn't actually bring him the painkillers that were in the cabinet above the bathroom sink, no, that would just be too nice of him wouldn't it? When his stomach settled down to an uneasy but gentle shaking, Yukio flushed the toilet and stumbled to the sink. He rinsed out the disgusting feeling in his mouth and brushed his teeth. When his taste buds no longer tasted crap, he opened the medicine cabinet behind the mirror and shook two Advils from their bottle, swallowing them dry. Feeling much more alive, Yukio carefully took out the contacts still in his eyes and placed them in their cases in the back of the cabinet to never be used again.
Everything was a blur now without even his contacts, but Yukio managed to make it back to his room and shuffled underneath his blankets. Closing his eyes, he could vaguely make out Shura's grumbling curses two doors over. Yukio smiled vindictively and cradled the warm feeling as he drifted off into sleep.
p.s.: this is the poem (and i use the term 'poem' loosely) i wrote that inspired everything, even though it has no relation to the story now. just something I wanted to show you guys.
the false truths you feed me spill down my throat, thick sweet cloying like novocain, numbing the memory of blue like the sea
until the first sight of it steals my breath away
luring me into its secret depths when I have no memory of its beauty and danger
unaware of the possibility of drowning
until blue clogs my throat my blood my life
and your lies linger on my lips like poison