Here Akihito was, in this palatial living room in the house of his new 'boyfriend' who just so happened to be the leader of the Russian Bratva, sitting with his parents in what should be a casual setting. Fucking nope.

This was worse than being locked up in the cells with thugs for a night, worse than facing the stare of a fed up cop who really couldn't be bothered asking this punk kid the same questions because his answer was always the same-wrong one, worse than jumping off rooftops away from peeved yakuza and scraping his knuckles down the steel piping and being unable to hold a spray can for the next week.

This was like being sat down in a real life damn interrogation, it shouldn't feel like this, but it was his own indecision that put the weight on himself.

All he could think to do right now was lie, lie down to his fucking bones and through the skin of his teeth just as deception ran in his blood. Because here was this proud family, open and honest, loving and content to be who they were in the eyes of society, and then there was his family; who weren't any of those things.

Spilling his guts to Mikhail had been painless, easy even, only because Misha had this coaxing quality about him that made Akihito utterly powerless and careless of that fact, Misha was this unexplainable comfort, like the security of pulling your blankets up around your shoulders at night, the soothing addictiveness of the feeling of a pencil in your fingers and the rhythmic scratching sounds it makes against paper, or; in his teenage days that lulling whisper of a spray can venting all his frustrations at a brick wall.

Mikhail was this person you could sit in silence with and be at ease, someone you could get excited in front of and express your most colorful desires to, someone you could talk to about everything and nothing, so of course he'd ended up telling Mikhail about his not so normal upbringing that was completely normal to Akihito, cos it was the only thing he'd ever known.

Mikhail was the person Akihito could actually explain himself to, all apart from that one extra little thing. If he couldn't tell Mikhail the truth about his parents yet, then he certainly couldn't tell his parents.

Even though they were nice and genuinely interested in him as a human being; they were a completely different stroke of brush, because he couldn't shake the feeling of expectation, most of the time Akihito really couldn't give two fucks about what people thought of him, but holy fucking shit how he wanted the two people sitting in front of him right now to actually like him.

The unfamiliarity he found in that feeling was new, a pressure his friends complained about when they met their significant other's parents, and something he'd shrugged off until now because he'd thought it'd been stupid.

He should be honest, he should just fucking throw it all to that St Petersburg wind that swept his life into disarray from the moment it'd sent that napkin tumbling off the coffee table, he should tell the truth now, but it was so much easier to lie than to explain things to other people. It was easier to lie than embarrass himself, because the scariest part about people finding out you grew up in a home where truth was the real victim; was the label that came with it. He was Takaba Akihito; a university graduate with his whole career ahead of him, not the son of a crook or a by-product of their felonies.

Beside him, Mikhail waited with an unreadable face, his jaw set in a way that Akihito fucking revered for it's sure edge and strong will. Gold lashes that were too pretty for any human twinkled in the St Petersburg sun beaming through the window, it would do no good to ruin this moment by complicating it more than it already was, because Akihito could feel something like contentedness unveiling itself to him, and he fucking craved it, so if that meant lying a little more then so be it. He'd never considered himself a good person, anyway, at least that he had in common with Mikhail.

The only problem was he wasn't the most convincing liar, pity he didn't inherit that specific trait, so he decided keeping it simple would do. The whole less is more approach or whatever.

With a nervous scratch of his head to cover his pause that felt like an eternity in his head, but really had only lasted as long as it'd taken for Mikhail's mom to put her coffee cup down; Akihito bit the proverbial bullet and got it over and done with. "Aha, yeah, I guess you could say I'm not as intellectual as my parents. My father is a district attorney in Tokyo, and my old lady runs her own emergency clinic in the city too."

Before he'd even finished, there was already a hand mussing his hair to appease the situation some more, hard enough to rattle his brain, and gentle enough that the reassurance from the brush of Mikhail's fingertips had goose bumps shivering down his spine and a smile splitting his cheeks, and fuck, the amount Akihito liked the Russian at that moment was actually terrifying. Feelings were scary!

"This guy is way too dumb to do anything like that." Mikhail chided with a wink in his direction, before flicking Akihito's nose with a poke of his tongue.

"Oi, shut up!" and of course Misha knew how to press his buttons more, take him so off track down a path of the Russian's making that Akihito would happily follow. "I do what I want." Akihito finished with arms stubbornly folded against his chest, baring his tattooed arms on full display in the sun's light.

Aline simply chuckled at their exchange, and Akihito realized he'd nearly gone full goober mode with them sitting right there, the desire to crawl back into Mikhail's huge bed and bury himself was real. Grigory though, was still concentrating his full attention on Akihito, and at that moment he realized that guy had seen right through his attempt to laugh it off.

"So your parents don't approve of your career choice, no?" Grigory probed, right on the money.

"Ah, something like that, yeah. We, um, never saw eye to eye, exactly." And what else was he meant to say to make it obvious his family wasn't like this one at all? Suddenly, it was nice to dive into the patterns of the ornate rug on the floor, the gold tassels on the end and the scrollwork patterns threaded throughout, so much to look at on the floor of all things!

"Hm. It shouldn't matter what a child does as long as they're willing to give it everything they have to succeed. You did everything you could, I take it?" the tone was still carefully blank, but the question was simple enough, and one that he never needed to lie about.

"Y-yeah."

"Then that's enough to be proud of." And oh, that hit too close to too many ugly spots that Akihito had long since covered up with his tattoos and his art, all he ever did was strive during his years at university all to be here right now, a simple fucking repayment for being good, not a 'well done' to go with it, yet for some stupid reason it meant more coming from Mikhail's parents than it would have if it were his own.

Mikhail was right yet again, there hadn't been a single damn thing to worry about when it came to this meeting. The tension left his body in a huff of air as he looked at the floor still, seriously, Akihito couldn't comprehend these people.

As he stared down at his sweaty hands on his knees, the image of Mikhail's hand with that gold ring coming to cover the chrysanthemum a top his own to twine their fingers together in whatever this was; was enough to have him at ease for the rest of the afternoon.

If there were two people on this earth Mikhail could trust; it would be his parents, and they hadn't let him down with this. Like him; they knew which questions to ask, and what to steer away from to gauge a person's character, that stupid old man of his was sharp, but luckily he knew to mind his own damn business, too. Yet he'd still managed to say the perfect thing, with perfect timing to get Akihito to unravel from his bundle of unnecessary nerves.

Now, it was turning out to be a good day, not his preferred day of lazing around in bed with Akihito, but just a good day was good enough for him, he'd had enough bad ones to appreciate the small things.

Akihito's art book had come out, along with his camera and this enthusiastic shine in his eye that hadn't been paying any attention at all to Mikhail, but to his mom instead. His Ma had already so graciously offered to take Akihito around more hot spots in St Petersburg while she was here, and Mikhail didn't know if he preferred Akihito sight seeing alone while he had to go do what a Syndicate leader should do, or if it was better for him to go with Aline, who knew all Mikhail's weaknesses and secrets.

Yeah, fuck that, way better for Akihito to be alone, because Akihito himself was already fast becoming a big enough weakness as it was and his mom would have no trouble making sure Akihito knew that.

Or, like any parent would; of course she'd bring up the penultimate issue right now. Travel.

They'd talked travel, skirted around Mikhail's only concern right now, which was ridiculous for him, cos shouldn't he be concerned about all the multinational businesses in his name, the millions of dollars that went in and out of his accounts every second, the underworld empire that lay at his feet? He probably should be, but he was way too side tracked for anything like that, Mikhail had always thought of himself as a focused person, but fucking hell, that one young man from Japan had messed him right up, and it was the most exciting thing to happen to him for a long time.

And still they all talked, about all the things Akihito had left to do in Russia, and all the things he wanted to see and do elsewhere. Akihito was this animated, colorful mess of aspirations and fervor, it was clear this was something he'd wanted for a long time, so naturally the question amidst all that was; where was Akihito going next? God dammit, Aline! Even Mikhail hadn't even managed to bring himself to ask Akihito that yet, because he was afraid of his reaction if he didn't like the answer.

The clueless blink and dumb struck expression of Akihito's said that he hadn't thought that far ahead though, because winging it was more Akihito's style than anything else, a seriously cute style, because he was looking at Mikhail like he should know the answer. "Umm, I think I was just gonna go to the airport and pick the first flight out to the best place, haha. That's how I ended up here first."

It fell into silence, Akihito's loose attitude and holiday mode demeanor stunned them all, Mikhail probably the most though, he'd said it before and he'd continue to believe in what he said; fate was bull shit, but this was coming pretty damn close.

Dumbstruck, all Mikhail could do was sit there speechless, because now he had to fucking clue on how to approach Akihito about travel plans because there were no travel plans.

"No, that won't do at all." Aline suddenly put in, what was that old bat up to? Mikhail could see the glimmer of a plan in her eye, if there was any one more devious that Mikhail; it was his mother.

"Um, how come?" came the clueless question, Mikhail was curious about this too, so all eyes were on Aline as she cracked a winning smile like she'd just solved the meaning of Mikhail's life.

"You need a home away from home, and Misha here travels for work to places all over, so why don't you travel with him and then come back here to recuperate in between?"

Oh, that was clever. Really fucking clever, of course his mother would come up with the answer to his problems like she always did if he ever called on her, she'd helped with the ultimate roof date after all.

He could kiss that woman right now, but maybe he'd settle with buying her a new handbag instead, from Paris, a handbag from Paris.

He'd take Akihito with him to get it.