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.
!DON'T DRINK WHILE UNDERAGE. Actually, DON'T DRINK AT ALL!
Chapter Six: You Never Know.
Keigo knew this wasn't right. Hell, even a five year old would have told him that this was wrong and bad, a lesson left from what his mother or father had told the child not too long ago, probably. And yet, yet, he was sitting here in this worn-out bar and staring at his glass of some kind of nameless alcohol, a drink he ordered not even looking.
Yes, he missed Ryoma; yes, he was the one that messed up their relationship; yes, he was a goddamn bastard, but… The sight of some other man talking and touching his ex made him tremble in anger. Anger, that was so hard to control, that flowed through his whole body, blinding him with rage and want to tear the two apart from each other.
"Fuck." It was a low growl that left his mouth and he drowned the drink right after, twisting his face in clear disgust. This is why he never got drunk; the pointlessness of it all was disgusting.
Someone sat beside him. Keigo didn't really care, he didn't know anyone that liked to visit places like this one (and yet, he was here himself), so he just ordered a refill of whatever he had before. The bitter taste still lingered in his mouth, his throat burning from the aftertaste.
"Never thought I would see you here of all people. Atobe." The same one that had sat besides Keigo laughed a teasing laugh and drank his ordered gin and tonic. "Stress?"
Keigo glanced at his right; figures. "Oshitari." He acknowledged and swirled his drink. "What I do and where I do that is none of your problem." He debated with himself whether to drink or not. Maybe a bit later. "And I thought the same about you."
"Oh, Atobe. I'm not you and you are not me. The whole world is free for me, but for you… Limited choices, I would say." Oshitari pushed up the fake glasses he was still wearing, even at his age. "But I do like to come here at some point. It's relaxing."
"Relaxing?" Keigo straightened up on his bar stool, "I fail to see how this place is relaxing. Sorry about that." He glanced down at his glass again.
Oshitari chuckled his usual laugh, "How mean." He then pushed his empty glass around the surface of the table. "But you know, you really must be feeling down, if you ended up here, of all places." He looks at Keigo wryly. "Let me guess, Echizen?"
"It never ceases to amaze me how much you know, you know that?" Keigo glared, finally drowning his second, or maybe fourth, glass and slamming it down, back on the bar table. "It's just me being too optimistic and naïve. Nothing else."
"Atobe, for the whole time that I have known you, I can assure you that you are in no way naive. A bit of an idiot and an ass, sure, but certainly not naïve, far from it actually, if I may say so. Just because Echizen hates your guts…" Oshitari suddenly got silent, as if thinking over something. "Well, the thing is… You should have seen this."
Keigo snorts. "Yeah, thanks for that. But he really does hate me, doesn't he." It wasn't a question. More like a statement of truth. "But he's happily sleeping with whoever he wants to while I'm trying to get drunk for once." He forces a laugh out and considers ordering another glass of whatever he had been drinking until now.
"Is he?" Oshitari has the modesty to sound pleasantly surprised.
Keigo decides to order another glass, to hell with work and worries. "Kiriko would be a potential partner for one, and who knows what he has been doing until now in U.S. He is quite good-looking for a man."
"And has a nice backside, don't forget that." Oshitari ads and does a mock salute to Keigo before taking a small sip of his new re-fill. He got a glare in return. "Just saying."
"Shut it." Keigo mumbled and sighed right after that. "What the hell am I to do? I mean, I fucking need that man." He hisses out as if that is some curse. But really, it's not and both of them know it. "Damn."
"Well said." Oshitari pats Keigo on the back, empties his own gin and tonic and gets up to leave. "You should remember that when talking to Echizen next time. And while we are talking about Echizen again, though we were from the start, he isn't the type to whore himself out, you are. We both know that, Atobe." He gives the rich man one last smirk of his own and walks out of the smoke filled bar.
Keigo stares at the door even after Oshitari is long gone. "Damn asshole, thinks he knows everything because... This is stupid." He makes a face, drinks the glass dry once again, slams down a sum of money on the table next to the glass and leaves too.
He didn't need a hangover added to his problems.
Ryoma isn't surprised to find out that the photographer for his today's shoot was some man he had never heard of (not to mention that he was bad at what he was dong, obviously). Though, what surprised him was the presence of another model, even if he was told that he would be the only one today.
"Ah, Echizen. You must be quite surprised, no?" the man in front of him tilted his head on the left a bit and did a strange Fuji-smile imitation.
Ryoma blinked and sat on the chair, facing the mirror in front of him. "Depends."
"You're still as talkative as you were I see." Yukimura laughed, not at all fazed by the sudden meeting.
"I wonder." Ryoma relaxed in his chair and allowed the make-up artists to do their job. "So why are you here anyway? I thought this was a singles shoot." He yawned and then glanced at Yukimura.
There was a chuckle and then Yukimura spoke: "it is, we just have the same location. Syuu didn't want anyone else taking photos of me. I bet you know how that is." He smiled a mysterious smile and accepted the glass of water given to him.
"I wonder." Ryoma eyed the model next to him, waiting for something more that that, but then averted his eyes away from the man and looked at his own reflection.
It was awkward to sit together now, one not really wanting to talk and the other not knowing how to answer. Only the make-up artists that worked on them made some small talks between themselves, asking about the best shades and eyeliners and powders and whatever else they needed at that moment. Only the two models quietly sat in front of the big mirror and refused to look away from their own faces.
The dressing room door opened and Yukimura turned his head to look at the intruder. But when his eyes met with the photographer that was also his boyfriend, a smile so loving bloomed on his face that Ryoma had to turn his head away from the mirror, he had long ago given up on these loving smiles, meant for your lover.
Fuji smiled too and leaned down for a small kiss on the lips. "Ready?" he asked his lover.
"Un." Yukimura nodded and got up, "It was nice talking to you Echizen. Good luck on your shoot." He changed his smile to a friendly one.
Ryoma turned his eyes on the two lover birds again, mentally frowning, and gave a small nod in return. "Thank you, you too Yukimura-san. Hello Fuji." He didn't get up.
"Hello Echizen." Fuji's hand wrapped around Yukimura's waist and pulled him a bit closer than necessary, "I looked over the pictures yesterday evening. I wonder why they didn't give you as their first choice, Hughes was good, but nothing compared to what you can show on the pictures." There was some weird undertone to Fuji's voice.
Ryoma crossed his legs, "I was at a job when they came to look over our models. That's the reason why I wasn't included in the list from the beginning." He messed up his hair a little and got up too. "I guess I have to go too. I still haven't seen the clothes." He didn't bid them farewell and just left.
"He's grown cold and no longer trusts people, it seems." Yukimura whispered and led Fuji out of the dressing room. "I liked the old Echizen better. The snarky brat that couldn't be brought down no matter what. That is what I wanted to see, not the emptiness in his eyes." He threw his lover a look that couldn't be deciphered.
"He's hurting." Fuji answered back, "He is still so very hurt, it is painful to watch." He stopped at the small table where his camera was lying quietly.
Yukimura allowed their hands to release each other. "I see something else, something that is not hurt. But, that is not for me to judge." He took his pose, one leg on the old-looking chair, arm resting on it and used as a support for his weight.
"We see what we want to see. Like that, ne?" Fuji made sure his camera is in order and placed it in front of his eyes. "His eyes reflect what we wish to see. Because they are empty."
"If you say so." Yukimura did a fake smile for the sake of the photo.
Keigo leaned against the cool stone wall of the building that they used for some of their shoots. The sky was a depressing grey color now, small drops of water falling down on the ground now and then, yet it still couldn't be called rain.
He watched the people walking by, all dressed in dark tones and ignoring the world around them. Yet, his eyes didn't see anything, because the things happening around him were meaningless for the rich man. He only needed, wanted, to meet Ryoma, the model that was working in the building behind his back at this very moment.
Keigo lost track of time, so when there was the murmur of people talking coming from the building, accompanied by the clicking of lock and laughs, he felt as if just awoken from some kind of dream, a state of daydream.
Keigo watched the people exiting, in hopes of spotting the man he so wanted to see right now. Women, men, make-up artists, stylists, crew workers continued to leave the building one after another, but the model was still nowhere to be seen for Keigo's eyes. But then, the mop of black, with the undertone of dark green, hair went past Keigo, everything turning into a blur that very moment. In pure instinct did Keigo reach out and grab the hand of the owner of that unique hair color.
It was as if time had stopped, for both of them, when those honey-colored eyes slowly turned to glare at whoever was halting him in his way. They widened for a split second, before turning icy cold when Keigo's reflection could be seen in that endless gold.
"What do you want?" the words were sharp, cold and spoke of irritation and anger.
Keigo wanted to cringe, but didn't. Right now there were more important things to do and say. "I want to talk to you, now."
Ryoga was washing the dishes after their dinner. He was humming some unnamed song to himself, all other worries pushed out of his head for the time being. His right foot was hitting a beat for the same song, quiet tap, tap, tap sounds filling the small kitchen, if it could be called like that.
From time to time he glanced over his shoulder at the little boy, obediently playing with his toys, and then back at the dishes, still dirty and soaking in the warm, soapy water that was filling the sink. Ryoma once again began to hum the same song, the clinking of dishes joining in.
"Ne, uncle Ryoga." The small voice asked. "Can I ask you about daddy?" Shuya turned around, so that he was now facing Ryoga's back. A toy robot held between his little fingers.
"Hmm?" Ryoga hummed, but his hands didn't stop moving.
Shuya hesitated a bit, raising his toy robot up, above his head and then asked: "Daddy won't follow mommy, right? Daddy will be ok, right?" he blinked once, twice and then lowered the toy.
"Of course he will be ok, isn't he strong. You said that yourself, stupid brat." Ryoga laughed and placed the last plate to dry. He dried his hands and then turned fully to face the little boy. "And your mommy is too blind to see what your dad is worth. She is nothing to be worried about. Ok, brat?" he ruffled the light purple hair on Shuya's head while walking past him.
The boy said nothing, his head hung low and eyes downcast, the toy robot still in his hands. Ryoga sighed, "It's only been five days kid, five days. No work has been this short for him, right? You took it better before."
"But… daddy was never somewhere where I can't…" Shuya made the robot's arms move, "Daddy was never this far." He whispered out the last words and left his toy on the ground. "I miss daddy."
"Ryoma only has you brat. Where else will he come back to, if it's not by your side? Huh?" he looked at the three-year-old, skeptical about the whole thing. Ryoga doubted the kid would understand; he was far too young for these kinds of talks. Even if he was Ryoma's son.
He noticed the kid swaying. "Hey, you sleepy? Go to bed if you are." Ryoga drank form his can of beer. "You hear me?" he got out of the chair he has been occupying for the last three minutes, or so, and went to Shuya.
"You ok?" he checked the kid's forehead with his hand. Those honey colored eyes, all foggy and half lidded, looked up at him when Ryoga's cool hand came in contact with Shuya's forehead.
"You're a bit too warm." Ryoga muttered and picked Shuya up, walking towards the small kitchen again, in search of a thermometer, "I hope you're not sick. The last time you had to spend some time in the hospital. Ryoma will be worried sick if that will happen again."
A/N: I feel so damn proud. There was some action that happened, the chapter is long and some cliffhangers were added to the whole thing. Could it get any better? Yeas it can. You telling me what you think about this whole thing.
10.03.2011.