Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, no real humans were used to make this story and the characters featured in this piece of work do not belong to me. Also, I do not make any profit from this.

Warning: possible grammar and spelling mistakes, as well as missing letters and/or words.

There will also be detailed sex scenes and possible violence, as well as bad language and slang words. This is/will be an mpreg (male pregnancy) story, so if this offends you please do not read it and turn back now.

Thank you for your understanding.

Main Pairing: Royal Pair.

Side Pairings: At the moment I still don't know, but as I write there will be some.

Chapter Three: When You Look At Me.

"So you really are leaving?" Ryoga asked; his can of beer hanging loosely in the air, barely held from falling by Ryoga's fingertips.

They were sitting in Ryoga's apartment, Ryoma had just told his brother about him going back to Japan, about modeling for Atobe's '13', about the secret plans of his boss, his own feelings, his fear of seeing all those people again, probably.

About everything that he had on his heart right now.

Ryoma smiled a bitter smile, a small little thing, and found his three-year-old son with his eyes, playing like a good kid that he was. "I have to, they asked especially for me." The look in his now half-lidded eyes changed to that of a feeling of pain, painted with sadness, "Besides, that old scheming man won't just accept my 'no', I have no other choice. Fuck." The last word was said so quietly that his older brother probably didn't hear the sound. Only saw the lips forming that one syllable.

"Are you sure you want to go alone? At least let me come with you. Someone will have to look after Shuya anyway." Ryoga sighed, knowing that now his little brother won't back down. His pride was the only thing still was there from the life he once had. "Mom and old man won't be much of a help. '13' is far from their place, you know that."

"I won't take Shuya with me." Ryoma mumbled, his head in his palms, his whole body looked tired and worn out from everything that he had gone through. It was a state he only dared to show to Ryoga.

Ryoga's eyes widened and the beer can fell out of his loose grasp, the liquid splashing on the wooden parquet and on the black leather chair. Though, the man didn't care at the moment. "What the hell? You want to say that you're just gonna leave him here, all alone? At some crazy, old woman's place?" the disbelief was so powerful and managed to make Ryoma flinch, his tired eyes fixing a glare at his brother.

"Are out of your drunken mind?" the anger was dripping from his words, "Do you really thing I'm going to do something as low as that? Moron. I was going to leave him with you, like I always do." He nodded with his head at Ryoga, voice no longer holding the anger and eyes closed once again. "Besides, the last thing he needs to see is his useless idiot of a father."

Ryoga relaxed visibly, a sigh escaped from his mouth and he sat back own in the chair, hand going through his short hair, messing them up even more. "I see. You are right about that."

Ryoma laughed to himself, shaking his head in disbelief, "How the hell I am even related to you?" he peered at his brother, bangs in front of his eyes.

"Shut up, you just didn't get much of our old man's genes. Lucky bastard." A friendly laugh bubbled from Ryoga's throat and he peered down on the puddle of the alcoholic drink next to his chair and let out a few colorful words and decided to clean up later.

They sat and talked a while longer, Shuya sitting in Ryoma's lap and fallen asleep somewhere in the middle of the conversation. When they had managed to make clear some of the important things regarding Ryoma's work and Shuya the younger of the two brothers left the apartment, his sleeping son held safely in his harms and headed home.

The streets were just as crowded as they were in the morning, maybe the bright neon lights made them look differently. As if this was a completely different world, so far from the reality of the everyday stress and troubles, full of fun and entertainment; starting from cheap bars to host and strip clubs. The nighttime life in New York was like a new world.

Known and yet, still so unexplored and fresh.

The noise of people laughing, talking and the seldom announcements through the speakers didn't exactly make Ryoma's mood better. He still wasn't so sure about the whole thing and the slight worry about his son didn't let him calm down.

Someone pulled his hand, the tugging snapping him out of the daydream he had gone into. Ryoma looked down on the sad looking boy, some of the light purple locks poking out from under the hat and falling in front of his eyes. A smile crawled on the parent's face as he crouched down. "What's the matter Shuya? Worried?"

"Daddy, you will come back right?" Shuya's small hand tightened its hold on the two of his father's right hand's fingers in his grasp. "Daddy won't leave me alone, right?"

Ryoma brushed the hair out of his son's face, the smile still playing on his lips. "Of course I won't. After daddy is done with work he'll come back, with lots of presents, ok? He won't leave you behind." He poked Shuya's nose, "Where did that come from anyway?"

The little boy looked down on the ground, his left foot kicking invisible things in front of himself as he mumbled under his nose: "Uncle said that the place where daddy is going is where mommy lives. And that mommy will take daddy away from me." He sniffed a bit and looked up again.

"Shuya." Ryoma hugged his son, "Don't listen to your idiot uncle. Mommy can't do that, since she doesn't like daddy and daddy doesn't like her anymore." He tightened his hug, the last memories of Keigo surfacing in front of his eyes.

He never did tell Shuya about the fact that his 'mommy' was actually a 'daddy'. And that he, himself, was the 'mommy' here. Little kids shouldn't know about things like this, is what Ryoma had said when Shuya was born. When the little one asked Ryoma just said that his mother is living somewhere else, far away from them and doesn't have the time to see the little kid.

This is for the best, was the only thought in Ryoma's head when the held the small baby close to himself, cradling it to sleep.

"Oi, hurry up, the check-in has started Ryoma." Ryoga's voice boomed over the crowd, the impatience clear and vivid. "If you miss the flight I won't be blamed for it this time." The annoying smile of some unknown victory almost sparkled on his face.

Ryoma took Shuya but the hand and both started to walk towards perfectly lined up small check-in desks with a smiling girl behind each of them. He gave one last hug to his son and said the last words to Ryoga, making him promise one more time to look after Shuya and the left them, walking towards a smiling blonde.

Ryoga watched his little brother's back, Shuya next to him, "Your dad will come back, don't worry." He ruffled the kid's hair, removing the hat before, and snickered, "Since he's the strongest man I know." The pride in his voice could not be mistaken for anything else.

"I know." The three-year-old said and looked up at his uncle, "Daddy is the best." The complete and unquestionable and unshakable trust of the little boy towards his father was something to be admired. Ne didn't doubt that Ryoma would come back.

Ryoga smirked: "You're right. You're right brat."

He watched as a plain, not the one Ryoma was supposed to be in, flew up in the sky and disappeared in the white clouds, swallowed by the blue and white, only the smoke left behind it. The sight reflected in his eyes and Ryoga couldn't help but feel that something will go not the way it has been planned to go.

The café, located in '13''s building, was the only place where the workers, and the owner, could enjoy a relaxing cup of coffee and a warm meal during the hectic workday. In this small café, which was unusually empty for this time of the day, one cold find the owner of '13' himself, Atobe Keigo, chatting with a frail looking man in his twenties.

The man's arm was resting on an expensive looking camera, his tool of work. The photographer had light-brown hair, cut so that the strands reached only his chin, eyes closed and a warm smile decorating his face. The black coat he was wearing covered whatever he had under, giving the man a mysterious air around him.

"So, Fuji, that is what happened in the past days while you were gone." Keigo sipped his latte, "Will you do it? Or I should organize someone else to take over this shoot?" the blue-eyed man didn't look at Fuji anymore. His eyes were scanning the profile of the model once again.

Fuji, on the other hand, looked thoughtful and his answer showed that he still hasn't made the decision. "I'm not sure that what you are doing is the right thing Atobe. Things will only get worse, and that's also if he still remembers." His finger poked the picture glued on the white sheet of paper. "Besides, he probably has a new life by now."

Keigo looked at Fuji, face unreadable, hands still holding the white cup of latte. "He doesn't."

"And how the hell do you know that?" Fuji frowned, "It's not like he would stay single for so look; not with those looks." He gestured at the paper in the middle of the round table. "He's a model for Christ's sake. And you know models well Atobe. We both do." He didn't smile anymore, a small line of blue glinting through the bangs.

Keigo turned the page around, so that Fuji could read it and pushed closer to the photographer using the tips of his fingers. "Look at him. He hasn't changed; the look in his eyes is still the same. That much I know about him Fuji. He isn't your average model."

Fuji didn't even try to listen, he pushed the profile back at Keigo, leaning over the table and whispering in a low voice: "Still the same? Atobe, after that his personality did a one-hundred-eighty. There no such thing as 'still the same', you know that. You were there when a part of him died before you killed the other half." He pulled back and crossed his legs. "But, I'm ok with working with him. On Seduction I mean." He was once again the picture of calmness, not willing to speak about the matter with Ryoma.

"Thank you Fuji. I'm sure you will be pleased with his work." Keigo smirked, the latte gone.

It seemed like the photographer rolled his eyes, but you never know, and stood up, signaling the end of this meeting, "I will go through his shoots and find out what to expect." He said, voice even. "But Atobe, I'll say this just one more time." He gave his employer one final look, "Nothing good will come out of this, even if Echizen in a top class model. You won't gain his trust in some dirty way like you have planned to do." He gave a curt nod and walked out of the room, leaving the model's profile and Keigo almost alone in the cozy café.

The usually so quiet workplace of one Fuji Syuusuke was now taken over by the sounds of romantic music, talking about love, pain, sadness, loneliness and everything else that could be entwined in those cheesy lyrics that the photographer hated so much.

His computer screen was the only light source in the room, his eyes carefully examining each picture that had the model, who will be under his charge soon, searching for any detail that would count as a mistake on the models part. But he found none. The expression, look, pose, everything was so perfect and yet natural at the same time.

"Almost like a God, meant just for the camera." Fuji whispered quietly. The surprise in his voice was hard to notice, but still there. "Maybe this is fate?"

There was a knock before his lover, Yukimura Seiichi, another model, walked inside. He was holding a plate of food and a steaming cup of tea, his face told that 'no' wasn't considered as an answer. He placed the things in front of his lover, thus not letting him continue his work and sat down next to Fuji.

His eyes landed on the screen and widened a bit. "He's a model?"

"Seems so." Fuji sighed and a piece of meat disappeared in his mouth, together with come potatoes, "He's going to be a part of Seduction. I don't get what Atobe is thinking. That idiot." Annoyance sipped through his words.

Yukimura chuckled and brushed the strands of hair out of Fuji's eyes. "Atobe is Atobe." He simply said, as a small laugh broke out from his mouth, "Nothing will change that." He poked Fuji's nose. "Glasses don't suit you much."

"Thank you." Fuji laughed too.

Yukimura's eyes returned to the computer screen. "So I'm to work with him?" a sigh, "I wonder how that will work out. It's no secret what happened." It sounded like he had remembered some unwanted memories. Something that he had tried so hard not to remember.

"Personal problems are not to be a part of work Seii, you know that." Fuji drank his tea, savoring the minty taste on his tongue, "He looks professional, so nothing will happen. Don't worry."

He was given a kiss before the model left the room; once again darkness swallowed Fuji, his face ghostly white in the light coming from the computer screen. He once again magnified Ryoma's face and frowned. "His eyes," his fingers touched the screen,"They really are almost dead."

A/N: A bit late, I know. But I simply didn't make it in time. :D