Archive of Our Own

I.

Rindou became unexpectedly handsome under the dying light.

No, actually, he was handsome. Sanzu ran his fingers down Rindou's forehead, brushing aside strands of messy bangs, running a finger down the curve of his nose, on which rested those glasses he used to wear when he was home. He had nice skin, particularly olive, not like his older brother's. Rindou was pretty, special, unique, and he became damn handsome when Sanzu was dying.

"You're not going to die, idiot," the Haitani growled, rolling his eyes.

Sanzu shrugged, because he wouldn't mind dying looking at him. After so many years, he could never guess the color of those eyes that looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and a bit of feigned disdain. The exact hue, the lines that gathered around his black pupils. It was lilac, it was purple, it was a flower. He couldn't tell, but they were enigmatic and mysterious, he had always seen himself reflected in them in a way that he would envy in others. Sanzu didn't want Rindou to look at anyone the way he looked at him.

He traced his jaw, feeling the hard bone clench with doubt. Full lips, which he ran his thumb over, treasuring the familiar velvety texture, and finally he dropped his hand lazily. The end of his arm hung in the air, or it lay across his lap, he couldn't tell. Maybe Rindou was right and the painkillers were killing him. Was that what he said right?

"You become less insufferable when you're like this," Rindou teased, getting up from the bed and turning his back on him. “Try to sleep, okay?”

His body seemed to slam into the mattress, as if he didn't remember being there. Then the sheets seemed to weigh on his legs, and the feeling of heat building up under them became unbearable. He wriggled on the bed and kicked them aside contemptuously. He rose on his elbows, feeling the gauze discomfort on his abdomen. The bullet wound had been sewn up with all the delicacy that could be had in the matter, although sometimes the stitches stung.

He lifted his shirt and touched the gauze with his fingers, pressing. He grimaced in disgust, drunk on powerful painkillers. He scratched. He scratched so hard that, if there wasn't gauze in between and he hadn't gotten that burst of pain, he would have ripped the sutures out with his fucking teeth. One by one, hard and blackish, stained yellow by who knew what ointment. He had never liked medicine, or anatomy.

“Are you going to sleep with me?” he asked, remembering that they were having a conversation.

Rindou had sat on a padded swivel chair. On his desk, the laptop screen dyed his pretty skin colors. In front of him, the window was closed and the curtains too. Everything was dark except for the warm lamp that Sanzu kept by the side of the bed.

They were at his house. That was weird. He didn't remember getting there, but he felt damn good, because he didn't often let him in. The fault was mostly Ran Haitani and his fucking urge to get away from his innocent little brother or something. If Ran only knew that they had fucked in the back seats of his expensive Audi R8...

"No, I have to do some things," Rindou denied, not paying attention to him.

“What kind of things?” He raised an eyebrow, unavoidably curious. “Uh, I see, are you going to watch porn?”

Rindou turned to him with a scowl.

“What?”

"Are you going to watch porn with me here for you?" And you don't even invite me?” He took a deep breath, the words a weight on his chest. He had a hard time talking. “You're really mean to me”

Rindou would've believed that he could have a quiet night. That the drugs would knock Sanzu out and he would spend the night sleeping like a baby in his bed. Ever since he'd gotten him out of the hospital and heeded his request to sleep with him, he hadn't realized how particularly strange it got when he was drugged like that.

He knew that he wanted his attention. With that messy pink hair, sad blue eyes. So sad, why so desolate? Wretched, nostalgic. He didn't know what he saw in him, not even if he was playing or if he had really meant that he wanted to sleep with him when he said he wanted to sleep with him, when he woke up from the anesthesia.

"Why would a handsome, single thirty-something go watch porn alone in his room? Huh? You're weird, you've always been so weird, do you know what you are? A weirdo, you've always been a weirdo…”

He slurred the syllables one after the other, scratching at the gauze covering the bullet wound. There was a low tone to his voice, lazy. He wondered if he was really getting to him that much, and he remembered that the drugs he used to take were just the opposite. He must have been very lost.

Rindou sat up, closing the screen of his computer. He sat on the bed and stroked his partner's head. Sanzu purred, not like a cat, but like a locomotive, pleased by the gesture.

He undressed in front of him. He didn't mind doing it, after all Sanzu had memorized every corner of his tattoos, every stroke, angle and part of his body. He watched him from the bed, leaning back against that huge cushion in which his head sank. Ice blue eyes melted in a teary feeling, melancholy, as Rindou took off his clothes and left them hanging on the chair.

He barely moved when Rindou got into bed.

"You're so handsome," Sanzu whispered, admiring his profile silhouetted by the lamplight. “Did I ever tell you?”

His voice no longer sounded so drunk on medication. He had become dim and quiet, a thread about to break from the silence of the house. At some point he had promised not to make any noise, or else Ran would come in and ruin his night completely.

Although being silent had never been in his mouth when he moaned how fucking handsome Rindou was. All muscle, epitome of masculinity and elegant perfume. Muscles tensing, his sweaty body locking him into the mattress at night, breathing hard into his ear, moaning. Rindou was one of those men who moaned and for God's sake , Sanzu thought he would die every time he did. Clothes always graced his body elegantly, shirts tight on his shoulders, pants cinched only at the waist, and the shadow of a semi-automatic Makarov on the back, because he was fucking old-fashioned and, shit, apparently Sanzu loved old-fashioned people.

Or did he just adore Rindou and that way he had of looking at him with bewilderment, as if he thought he was lying, when the truth was that he had told him thousands of times at the mercy of his will, in a public bathroom, in the seats back of his brother's car, on the bed. Not in the same tonality, of course, Sanzu Haruchiyo was a noisy fellow and he was doing his name a favor by reveling in Rindou's natural beauty in bed.

But, Rindou was so handsome like this, in his underwear and willing to spend the night by his side because he wanted to. Not out of pity, not because he expected to fuck. He did it because the feeling was genuine and true. He liked to spend time by his side and, no matter how many times they had fucked, the best nights would always be the ones where he randomly ended up in his arms, dozing, talking about anything, laughing, joking and drinking. 

He was also handsome because he took care of him, because he accepted his company and didn't complain about his way of laughing loudly. He didn't ask him to shut up, nor did he point out everything he did wrong. Because Sanzu did thousands of things wrong. Hell, if he got paid to screw it up and screw it all the way down he'd be the richest man in the world. And yet, Rindou would be there to listen to his nonsense, to share a bottle of vodka, and have fun together on the beach. He wished they would dance on the beach sometime. That thought was all cliché cloaked in confusion, but he liked imagining it.

Rindou was soft. In his movements, in his words. He was usually inconspicuous around Ran's side and never raised his voice more than necessary, except when he was horribly drunk.

"You already have," Rindou answered quietly.

The light dimmed and Sanzu smiled as he felt Rindou cling to his body. He rested his cheek on his shoulder and whispered again.

“You're beautiful”

As if that could mean anything.

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II.

He definitely hated the idea of someone else looking at Rindou. Worse still, Rindou looking at anyone other than him.

The canister slipped from his hand, and he dropped it, the plastic bouncing on the dirty tile floor. Strange stains, smell of urine, paper lying around, there was even a syringe stuck in one of the urinals. Typical of any bathroom in a rotten disco with even more rotten people.

It wasn't hate. It was fear.

His hands were shaking. Blood trickled down his fingers as he scratched and scratched. He sank his nails into the soft, tender flesh and squeezed, lifting the skins and scabs that had already formed hours ago and feeling the hard clots get trapped between his skin and his nails. Thick liquid trickled down his nose slowly, trapping his mouth like a desperate iron lover, the taste clinging to his teeth and his palate. He was hyperventilating, full of nervous tics. It wasn't enough. Just one dose couldn't get that out of him.

He sniffled. Blood ran down his throat as he tilted his head back. His messy hair looked more disheveled than usual in the mirror, he didn't even look like himself, but he had learned to recognize himself when he was lost.

It was that disgusting blur of colors in the reflection, the blue, tear-filled eyes, the crooked smile, and an explosion in the fucking neurons. He was beginning to take effect and all he wanted was more, and more, because that shit he had gotten after desperate was of the worst fucking quality.

He sank his little finger back into the entrance to his nose and swore to slit the tiny venous capillary, making his wound bigger. The blood ran down his finger, around the back of him, falling to his feet. He huffed out a breath, backing away from the sink.

He grabbed his phone and violently tapped one of the few contacts in his address book.

"Where the hell are you?" he spat, wiping his face with his arm.

Of course he knew where his partner was. On the other side of the door, crossing the crowd, the catchy music, the unbearable heat of the lights that flickered to the rhythm of any unspeakable song from that same decade.

Surely he was still with that bitch's eyes on him. He had had the delicious temptation to make her choke on the barrel of his gun until she begged for her miserable, useless life. He hated that they looked at Rindou. Not because it was his, no one would want to belong to a mangy dog with a tight collar around his neck, Sanzu Haruchiyo didn't deserve to have properties.

It just irritated him greatly. He didn't want to lose the precious attention he gave him. He felt fucking self-conscious when some girl approached him and suggested that he buy her a drink like the gentleman he wouldn't be with any.

He scratched and scratched, pulled at his hair.

“Behind you”

He looked up from the dried blood on his hands, turning away with a whimper caught in his throat. He hadn't even heard the door open. Rindou watched him from the doorway, still holding the phone against his ear.

"How long have you been there?" he asked, without hanging up the call.

Blue and lilac combined well in paintings when blended. They were the sky and the flowers, or the sea and the precious stones, the kind for which one had to risk his life in order to find them. This is how it felt to look at Rindou. The world was a dark cave, and among all those sharp and dangerous shadows was him.

Sanzu wouldn't miss his own shadow if he got lost in that darkness. He would find them again and again, the amethysts and the purple quartz. He knew where, he knew how, but he would never find his way back out. Still, it wasn't like he needed to go back.

"Long enough," Rindou answered, his voice sounding calm. Then he sighed.

"Stop talking in riddles, why can't you just answer the question?" Sanzu cut off whatever he wanted to say, wrinkling his nose. “Moron”

His partner let out a light laugh, shaking his head in denial, and hung up the call. He put the phone in the pocket of his usual suit.

“Do you need...?”

“Yes Yes Yes” Rindou waved an orange boat in the air and Sanzu charged at it like a hungry dog. Haitians could get any kind of shit, the best shit, and Rindou always gave him the quality he needed to satisfy himself.

He paid no attention to his lily eyes, those irises that turned momentarily wistful as he watched as he struggled to open the lid, which was fucking hard, and trembled with nerves. His fingers cramped constantly that didn't subside until he popped a pill or two into his mouth, which he swallowed without needing water.

Sanzu never noticed the details. But Rindou? Rindou knew that, in the end, corpses could never realize anything. They were dead.

They left that stinking den, and Sanzu stared at Rindou's hand on his wrist. Little pressure he exerted, but so firm and smooth on his skin. Warm and rough with murder. A contradiction in itself, he liked him.

He pressed his nose, making a clamp with his fingers so that the clots would form and his blood would stop flowing. Suddenly everything had color and meaning, even the night breeze in the nearly empty parking lot a couple of streets away. Ran's Audi was there, he had lent it to his little brother on that idle foray.

"Much better," he melted against the car doors, feeling his companion release him. He crept towards the capo, following him, with a playful laugh. “That shit... Kokonoi has no idea what I want. You, yeah, you…”

The Haitani leaned against the hood of the shiny black car, lighting a cigarette. A breath of fresh air ruffled hishair.

"I do know what you need," he collaborated, helping him finish the sentence.

Rindou knew that Sanzu didn't need drugs. But, he couldn't help but give it to him. Anything he asked for, anything he could make him happy with, at the price of watching him destroy himself. He knew that he was the one to blame and he did nothing to remedy it. He just couldn't. If he denied him a dose, Sanzu would buy from someone else. Rindou didn't want Sanzu to buy things that he didn't know what they had, or that could overdose him. Ecstasy pills casually mixed with other condiments in a dangerous recipe that no one warned about; altered doses, lies, scams.

No, Rindou wouldn't let him buy from others. He might be a miserable son of a bitch for giving him his whims, but he would never put him in danger in such a mean way.

For Sanzu only quality. The kisses, the caresses, and his broken heart for not being able to enjoy who he truly was without substances in his veins.

"You do know," Sanzu repeated, putting an arm around his shoulders. “You're the best”

Sanzu was too drunk in his eyes. He would hate for him to look the same way at others, he would kill for him, bleed for him and it would never be enough, because Rindou Haitani was so good to him, that no action could compare to his courage.

He let out a chuckle, invading his personal space to take the cigarette from him and take a long drag. He tasted like his mouth, but the nicotine overshadowed anything fun on his palate. He wanted to feel him, see him drive and put his hand suggestively on his thigh, teasing him at a traffic light. He would stroke up and down, pressing his fingertips into his clothing, biting his lip because he knew what was coming and he wanted it.

He pictured it clearly enough that he needed to, while they made small talk, or something like that. He liked teasing him so much behind the wheel, when a police car pulled up next to him at the traffic light, and Rindou shuddered at the first inordinate touch on his erection. When the roads turned dark, music played low on the radio and he took off his seatbelt so he could lean over and take him fully in his mouth, licking, sucking, circling his gland to tease him, a trickle of saliva between his lips. pink skin and lips wet with excitement.

He could imagine him driving with one hand, the other reaching down to stroke his head, brushing his pink hair aside. And if he grabbed him by the locks and forced him to choke on his cock, all the better. Let the musky taste hit the back of his throat, and he let out a guttural sound of pleasure. Damn, it would just be the music and Rindou moaning with that sweetness that he loved so much.

"You're the best," he whispered, interrupting whatever they were talking about.

Rindou raised an eyebrow doubtfully. Sanzu smiled, facing him. The cigar fell to the ground. Hands circled his waist, pulling him close before he had a chance to kneel down and suck on it.

He was about to complain, but, he had to admit, kisses were infinitely better. Rindou's lips were so soft and cushiony, warm, thin, and maybe made for his own. He slowly opened his mouth and pressed his tongue inside him, licking gently. Then more eagerly, as if he wanted to wake him up from the drugs. I'm here, he seemed to be saying.

And he responded with the same eagerness, devouring every part of the map from his mouth, knowing his corners and surprises. He didn't fight his tongue, just let himself go, clinging to his back, enjoying the way he spun him around to pin him against the hood. He was about to drop down and ask him to fuck him there, but he didn't.

A purr escaped from inside him, his heart racing until he thought he was going to burst his chest. "I'm here, I'm here." He wanted to yell at him that he knew , push him aside, clench his fists, hurt himself.

He held him tight, feeling him intrude under his shirt. He traced patterns on his back, hot skin and their entwined mouths, chasing, yearning. And Sanzu believed that he could die in his kisses, in his gentle caresses, the way he had sealed his mouth with another little kiss, brought their foreheads together, sighed so close to him, trembling.

"You're bleeding, Haru”

He blinked a few times, confused by the sudden sensation of something thick falling from his nose. He intended to move away from him, but Rindou kept him close to his body.

He stood still, admiring the reflection of his pupils, so close and round. He could see himself, avoiding the urge to lick at the blood that trickled down past his lips and down his chin.

Rindou wasn't an idiot. He knew what was done, the injuries he caused himself and whose pain he enjoyed. He moved closer, closed the eyes that Sanzu was so lost in, and kissed him again. Softer, it was just a touch that turned into something deep and tortuously slow. The iron taste stained their lips, reached his tongue and argued with the nicotine he had smoked.

He climbed a little higher, cleaning him with a brief lick, giving himself over to the red fervor of his mouth.

"Look at me," Sanzu muttered, self-conscious about the nickname. “Look at me please ”

And Sanzu dropped to his knees on the ground, suppressing a nervous groan as he felt the clot unglued from the inside of his nose pricking his insides. He paused, inserted his little finger, and pried it off with his fingernail. The blood overflowed.

A caress in his pink hair. He smiled, dazed, drugged into those gemstone eyes. Rosy cheeks, stained lips. He touched his thighs to reach the belt of his pants, the clang of the buckle echoing in the back of his mind. They were alone in the middle of a fucking parking lot, nothing mattered.

"Don't stop doing it," he ordered again, yanking at his clothes as he looked away to the side. “I hate that you look at others. I hate it”

Blue and purple collided. A fucking bloody brush painting.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

III.

Sanzu gave the keys a couple of turns, grunting under his breath. The flex on the hallway ceiling flickered several times to his annoyance, disturbing the hairy moths that fluttered their huge wings around the light.

"You filthy son of a bitch, fuck…" he cursed, opening the door and slamming it shut. The walls shook and a heap of plaster fell from the ceiling.

He shook his head as he kicked off his shoes and left them there in the hall. He took a couple of steps into the kitchen and opened the fridge. The pale light from the appliance illuminated his face in the darkness. The blinds were down and the curtains were drawn.

He grabbed a can of beer and ripped it open. He took it to his mouth and drank, drank, drank until he almost finished it, until he felt his throat begging for a break.

Oh how he hated Kakucho Hitto and his perfect results in every report and nonsense. So calm, with that look of disdain and superiority that made him want to throw up. The meeting had dragged on for both of them because Mikey had summoned them privately to discuss certain issues. If he could, he would kill him with his bare hands.

He opened one of the kitchen drawers and took out a bottle of pills. He hit the light switch and the place lit up. The apartment he lived in was fucking tiny, with only one window and a damp problem in the bathroom. It looked like a study for bored students, where there was a small dining table, the kitchen fitted in one corner, and a couch of dubious provenance that he never sat on. The bed was stuck under the window, on the mattress there were cushions whose psychedelic prints didn't match.

He had been stuck in the feeling of wanting to leave for years. But he was never good at taking care of his own things and he would be too lonely in a bigger place. What didn't make it any easier was the fact that he didn't have that much money. Mikey kept most of what Sanzu generated. A dog didn't need money, just some food and a not necessarily clean mattress to sleep on. And Sanzu was fine with that. Maybe. 

He grabbed one of those little round pills and gulped it down with beer until he finished the can. Dusk was falling in Tokyo by the time he deigned to open the blinds so as not to waste any light. Orange rays tinted his face gold.

On any given day, dirty dishes would accumulate in the sink, dust in the corners, stains on the floor, and garbage would be left undisturbed by the door. However, he realized that there was none of that. Everything was unusually clean and neat, the dishes piled to one side, drying, no sign of the full garbage bag.

He narrowed his eyes, an unpleasant feeling running down his spine. Sanzu pricked up his ears, drawn to the sudden sound of water in his bathroom that raised the hairs on his arms.

He pressed himself to the door stealthily, managing to smell a soft peach. Shampoo. He reached behind his back and pulled out the gun he had hooked to hid pants, gritting his teeth. He kicked the door open with his foot, the knob slamming against the tiled wall, raising the Beretta in a deliberate movement, his forefinger brushing the trigger.

Shoes and clothes on the floor, a boy looking at him from the other side of the glass shower screen.

"What are you doing?" Rindou Haitani raised an eyebrow in astonishment, completely naked and drenched under the stream of hot water.

Sanzu sighed in relief, lowering the weapon and setting it on the sink. He ran a hand through his hair nervously.

"No, what are you doing here?" He asked, trying to meet his eyes.

"We had agreed to meet after the meeting, don't you remember? You gave me the keys and said I could come because you were going to be late," Rindou said, pointing to the copy of the keys on the washing machine in the corner.

He shook his head, touching his forehead. Sometimes he was a fucking mess. He had been so fucking stressed out that he hadn't even remembered that they used to see each other after Friday meetings. He lowered his gaze, pursing his lips somewhat helplessly. Rindou snapped him out of his thoughts by giving the glass a light touch.

Sanzu understood right away. Quickly, almost clumsily, he unbuttoned his vest and shirt and shrugged off his clothes, letting them fall to the floor next to his. The glass partition opened for him and he stepped into the small shower, carefully closing it.

He rubbed his face, feeling the heat of the drug in his veins, creeping up his system. The water drenched his hair and loving fingers brushed the bangs from his eyes. Rindou smiled, clinging to his body from behind him, encircling his waist.

Sometimes he couldn't understand why that happened. Why Rindou was so caring and understanding towards him. Why he kissed his shoulder and didn't get mad at every single thing he did wrong. He acted like he didn't care that he'd pulled a gun on him, or maybe he really didn't care because he knew he wouldn't shoot.

He tilted his head back, feeling his moist lips on his neck, lazy hands caressing his scarred abdomen. Sanzu closed his eyes and let himself be carried into his arms, rocking forward to raise the temperature of the water.

"You... Did you wash the dishes?" he asked, lowering the temperature because he gave him heatstroke. He had red cheeks.

"I cleaned everything up a bit, yeah. I told you to stop being so lazy, you're almost living in your own shit, you know?" Rindou teased, pinching his belly.

He winced sensitively, but a low laugh escaped him. He turned around, pulling Rindou into his mouth. He didn't even need to ask, he knew what he wanted. It was the routine of every Friday. A long shower, they'd fuck, and then they'd order pizza, if they hadn't fallen asleep by then. He wondered if Ran knew about those hangouts, or if he was aware of it and was infuriated by it.

He shouldn't be thinking of Ran when he was touching his little brother like that, running down the lines of his sides, turning to his back to caress the soft skin on the way to his shoulder blades. He dug in his nails and dragged his fingers slowly downward, tearing at the ink snake's perpetual calm. Rindou rocked against his body, sighing, licking his lower lip, thrusting his tongue into his mouth.

Sanzu was skinnier than Rindou. He didn't go to the gym, as he knew he did the Haitani, and he didn't eat well at all. So many years living alone and he barely knew how to cook beyond the basics, he always ate the same thing, or ordered delivery. From a young age he had been naturally thin.

He parted from his lips, velvet drenched in saliva. He held his face very carefully, looking at him. He had such pretty eyes, made of lavender and dreams. He didn't know if they were his precious irises, but something was making him dizzy.

He squeezed those rosy cheeks, smiling. Rindou grabbed his wrist to pull him away and held his chin, touching the tip of his nose with his own. He kissed the corners of his lips, where diamond scars marked his presence on young skin. It could have been a romantic moment.

A stab of pain shot through Sanzu's stomach. He shrugged slightly, sighing an insult and pushing Rindou away, placing his hand on the center of his chest.

"Wait…" he muttered, flinging open the partition.

Droplets of water slid from his body to the ground. He almost slipped off the soft rectangle that was the rug, and sank to his knees in front of the toilet, retching at the same time. The marble lid slammed against the cistern and Sanzu held his belly, spasming a couple of times.

He threw up everything inside in front of Rindou's blank stare. He felt so fucking embarrassed, naked and pathetically miserable, on the damp floor of his bathroom. Mixing alcohol and pills he hadn't even read the type about hadn't been a good idea.

"Were you high?" Rindou whispered, with a small voice. He stopped the water and grabbed a couple of towels.

Sanzu shivered, panting pasty strings of vomit which he spat out with something akin to contempt. To him, Kakucho was to blame for that as well. He was about to push Rindou away, but he didn't have the heart to do so. He allowed himself to be covered by the towel and sat up, wrapped in it.

"...maybe," he blinked several times, wiping away the tears that had escaped him. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror's reflection. "Fuck…" 

He hurriedly washed his mouth out and rinsed it off, disgusted. And to top it off, he might have lost Mikey's respect for another day. Shit, he hated that filthy son of a bitch Kakucho so much for making a complete fool of him. It wasn't his stupid fault that he had missed a job, he wasn't distracted, he wasn't loud, he certainly wasn't useless either. Sanzu was—should be—just the opposite. It had only been a small mistake that fucking Hitto had made such a big deal about. He wanted to grab him by the neck at night and send him off to be happy with his fucking dead boyfriend.

He wrinkled his nose, annoyed at everything. He had a feeling of insecurity stuck in his chest. He barely noticed the way Rindou was stroking his back. Sanzu spat out water for the umpteenth time, unable to look at him through the mirror.

"I'm…" He wiped his mouth with the towel, self-conscious.

There were so many fucking words. He was stressed, angry, irritated, furious. He had an overwhelming urge to smash something on the floor and hide under the bed covers for the whole night. His stomach rumbled and he thought he was going to throw up again, drenched in water and sweat and rage.

He was unable to keep his attention focused on anything concrete. He had an uncomfortable pain in the back of his head, he was choking himself with his own thoughts. He left the bathroom with a sigh, saying nothing. Barefoot, he dragged himself into the kitchen and stared at the canisters, trying to decide what exactly he needed.

"You can leave if you want," he opened one of them, without even looking at his companion, who had stayed a few steps away from him. He poured several colored pills into the palm of his hand.

Rindou watched how Sanzu shivered and set the pot down on the counter, closing his tear-filled eyes and bringing his hand to his mouth, swallowing hard.

"Did the meeting go that badly?" he asked, infected by his anguish. He hugged himself as he felt the cold in the room. There the heating was never on.

Sanzu growled in response. He didn't want to talk about it. And, they usually didn't talk about work when they were together, or about money, or about the obnoxious Kakucho and his passive-aggressive attitude. He had many ways to ruin his hangout with Rindou, but that wasn't one of them.

He leaned against the fridge, sighing. It was when he looked up and slammed the drawer shut that he noticed the way the sunset licked at Rindou's torso. The towel wrapped around his waist, the tattoos that slithered here and there, curved like black daggers, made of shadows.

"Nevermind." He pursed his lips, shrugging. "So you're not going to leave?" 

Rindou shook his head and Sanzu couldn't help but feel worse. It was that kind of thing that puzzled and shattered him, because he could see himself in the reflection of that broken mirror on the wall. Dark circles marked with a half greenish, half lilac shadow, messy and soaked hair, several pink threads that rested on his shoulders. He was losing his hair a lot. The thin face, sometimes miserable and with hardly any color of joy in the cheeks.

It was the complete opposite of what Rindou deserved. He was a disaster that wouldn't admit how nervous he got every time he called him by that pet name. Haru. It rang in his ears when he said it, it seared into his soul and the edge of it was that of a boiling blade. It hurted, but it hurted in a way that felt special and unique to him, and he always enjoyed the pain if it was Rindou inflicting it.

If his heart ached, he only had to look at him to calm down. And Rindou would read it, look back at it, but he wouldn't say anything. From across the meeting room, across the table from him, through the rearview mirrors of the car. Because, in the end, Sanzu was as fragile and transparent as glass.

That was how he felt when the lights weren't turned off, when the sunset melted into his naked body, into the tattoos he clung to and sighed. Wrapping his legs around Rindou's waist, arching his back between the sheets of his bed. Heat pooled in sweat across the surface of his slick skin as he bit back a deep groan and closed his eyes. Rough breaths fled from his wet mouth, meeting Rindou's, latching on, licking their tongues, sucking briefly before pressing the back of his neck to hold him close.

He didn't want him to detach from his body. Sex was more pleasurable when Rindou moaned into his ear, when he rested his forehead on the pillow and clumsily moved inside him, losing control. He hated the times when he pulled away from him to grab his waist and fuck him hard, and at the same time he loved it because he was as addicted to his cock as he was to MDMA.

However, he needed him to stay. To drown his lonely heart in desperate kisses, the "neverminds" that turned into a string of pleas for more, much more.

 "Rin...Rin..."

And Rindou loved that he moaned his name, that he became a mess under his body. Leaning on either side of his head, he pressed his nose against Sanzu's cheek, making a guttural sound.

"Yeah?" he gasped, looking at him in the midst of the end of the Sun, and of the world for everyone except them. "Ask what you want, Haru…" 

He dragged his nails down Rindou's back, flinching as he hit his prostate sparingly. His cock dripped pink and insatiable against his abdomen, locked between their bodies. Only Rindou could make him come without touching himself, but he knew that he craved it too much.

"I want you to… oh! fuck!" 

Sanzu stifled a curse as he felt a hand take his member and squeeze, stroking the glans with a thumb, a smile caught in a kiss. His legs twitched, his back arched as he felt Rindou handing him gently, too slowly, torture.

In his dilated pupils, the tattoos came to life. Black lines were beginning to creep across the canvas of that olive skin, coiling around his limbs, running, chasing and fleeing like poisonous snakes, sharp fangs and dark scales. As pretty as him. And the flowers, he loved the flowers, his name on the tip of his tongue, between his legs, Rindou's gentians, sex and drugs.

 "...ah...ah...ah!"

The heat that ran through his veins, restless and insatiable, the artificial pleasure in the neurons and a persistent dizziness that came and went, reminding him that none of this was completely real. That the sex wasn't being as romantic as he saw it, that Rindou's eyes weren't looking at him in that way that he was so scared of.

But, he would get excited and say that it was true love. That they loved each other as much as he had fallen in love with those lavender eyes, their impossible colors, and the living tattoos. His pink hair spread out on the pillow, and joined at some points with Rindou's, which fell down the sides of his face and the strands brushed against each other in different shades.

"...stay..." he sighed, stroking his head. "Stay… ah…"

Rindou read it, nodding and tilting his chin to catch his mouth and drink from the source of his moans. Fragile. A piece of broken glass, missing from a mirror that was never fixed again.

And Sanzu would never know that Rindou's favorite day was Friday.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

IV. 

At the end of the day, he was nothing more than a parasite.

He had been living in a tiny shitty studio for years, taking advantage of the little dirty money they gave him to sink into his own misery. His co-workers couldn't stand him, he sometimes believed that Manjiro didn't either. He just sneered at him with those black eyes of his and told him to shut his big dog mouth before he thought of putting a fucking muzzle on it. He had no friends, no hobbies to entertain himself with on a Sunday afternoon.

And there he was. In a bed that wasn't his, in a house that wasn't his, having dined on food that had never been prepared for him in the first place. A parasite. That was what Ran called him once, after catching him off guard to talk about his strange relationship with his little brother.

«Stay away from him. You don't love him. You are nothing but a fucking parasite. You only love yourself»

Wrapped in the warmth of a blanket, the cold was beginning to seize his veins faster than he thought. It was usual for Rindou to sleep next to him, not knowing that, meanwhile, he was dying of anxiety. He had an arrow stuck in his chest, a void he carried wherever he went, heavy and cold. He blurred his vision with tears, made the scars burn.

It always happened after sex, when the hormone crash was so strong it grabbed him by the neck with iron links and slammed him to the ground, breaking his teeth in the fall, breaking his mind and heart, if ever he had had of the latter.

He listened to Rindou's rhythmic breathing behind him, deep and calm. It was nice to be close to him, to feel the warmth that emanated from his bare skin, like a river whose watery arms encircled him. He was in his underwear, curled up in a fetal position, and he could only focus on that sound.

Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. He imagined the tattoos on his body, the upturned nose, the messy hair. A bite mark on his neck, traces of scratches across his shoulder blades. But, he didn't dare turn around to look at him.

A moon ray paled the tear that slipped from the corner of one of his eyes. The pearl fell down his cheek and dampened the pillow. He hugged himself, fighting not to tremble, stiff, sweaty with primitive anticipation of danger. He closed his eyes, breathing roughly, the air stumbling down his throat and he nearly choked, his mouth dry and pasty.

He dug his nails into his own arms, cringing further. It hurt. It really was like having something skewered on his chest and he felt like it, like he was rotting inside. The disease was too advanced, one day it would finish consuming him and kill him.

At last.

Sanzu thought a lot about death. After all, he lived surrounded by it. But, not in death as something casual and decisive, but as something immaterial and healing. Something that resembled being asleep in bed, with a partner who loved him, a family who loved him, with a house and a home. Hot dishes instead of precooked garbage, spontaneous hugs, pats on the head.

He bit his lower lip hard. He didn't want to think about all that.

He sometimes dreamed that he was a child, that he was the size of any brat and that he was running through a park, having fun, playing with the others. So he couldn't tell if they were memories or what he might have been, what he lost of himself over time, who he might have become.

A sob left his throat and he instantly covered his mouth, feeling Rindou move.

Sanzu jumped when he felt a hand on his waist. Rindou clung to his body slowly, hiding his face on the back of his neck, between pink locks.

"Stop," he ordered, his voice shattering. "Don't touch me" 

Silence. He grabbed the hands around him and jerked them away, walking away across the mattress. The sheets on that side were cold, it looked like an abandoned wasteland.

The warm light from the bedside table suddenly illuminated the room. The usual bedroom, the clothes on the floor, the silent night. He narrowed his eyes and rubbed them, not moving.

"Haru…" 

He exhaled through his nostrils, clenching his jaw. He was biting his emotions, crushing them, vomiting them in the form of tears that he was trying to contain in vain.

"Don't call me that way" 

He wished he could be petted. He wished he hadn't pushed Rindou away the way he did. He wished they could always sleep next to each other, cuddling in winter, stealing blankets, complaining that the other took up too much space. He wished he could get to have a measly caress, everything is fine, even if it was a lie.

If he were that innocent and mischievous child, he would make the same decisions over and over again, only to end up next to him. Only to meet his gaze years ago, lost in the essence of flowers, spring, gentians and lotus flowers. The metallic taste of blood and guns. All in order to have his end in that same bed, in that same house, in those arms.

"Let me hug you," Rindou asked, moving a little closer to him.

His entire body tensed, as he felt himself inching across the mattress. Little by little, as if he were a dangerous animal that had to be controlled, as if, at any moment, he was going to bite him, to tear off the hands that he wanted to hold.

He fled at the last moment, even noticing the tips of his fingers trying to catch him. Sanzu was smoke and fire, he left traces of disaster wherever he went, and he didn't bother to return; almost intangible, toxic and harmful. He sat on the edge of the bed, hyperventilating, and Rindou looked at his silhouette in the gloom.

His hands were trembling, he had to hook them to his own arms to calm the disgusting sensation that also shook his leg with a constant and unbearable tic. He could hardly understand why those eyes kept on his back, when he was nothing more than a filthy mess of sex and drugs, blood under his fingernails.

He let out a breath, throwing his head back. His skin itched, he couldn't sit still, he needed Rindou before Rindou gave up and abandoned him. Stop for a moment, he told himself, rewinding the strange tangle that was his thoughts. He arranged them, placed them and repeated them while he scratched himself vigorously.

He was terrified that Rindou would abandon him.

"I know what you need," he heard him say, his tone calm.

Sanzu denied, even though he knew it was true. This was what he had become, there was no going back. He got to thinking that Rindou would, like always, get out of bed and rummage through his closet drawers for something to calm him down. Hypnosedatives. Shit, that alone could make his dream a quiet death until the next morning.

"I need…" 

He couldn't finish the sentence. A nervous whimper escaped his mouth as he felt lips on his shoulder. He winced, panting. Rindou clung to his back and tried to get him back on the bed with difficulty, pulling his limbs, insisting, insisting.

A kiss on his cheek. Sanzu burst into tears, pushing away the claws that his hands had become, the same hands that intertwined when they fucked, that he dragged down his body, the same lips that kissed his scars, whispering things only they understood. He had turned him into a nightmare, into a dark, blackish stain that wanted to drag him into the coffin of the sheets.

Sanzu groaned, sobbed, and squirmed in fear. His toes were cramping, his hair was standing on end, he was in a cold sweat and a fucking hug couldn't cure him.

"Shit, you win," Rindou sighed, leaving him alone. "Take them" 

A crooked smile graced his features as he watched him get up from the bed and go to the closet. The doors were adorned with mirrors that reflected a ray of moonlight, his purple hair, olive skin and pretty. Rindou was so fucking beautiful.

Suddenly, his partner threw a boat at him that he caught in the air. The sound of the pills made him drunk with emotion. He didn't want to lie awake all night, shaking with nightmares of his imagination. He sniffed, opening the canister. One, two, three, four. Maybe five.

Enough. He wiped away his tears with a sheet, counting the ones that remained. It was a hard-to-get medicine that would put him to sleep like a baby through the night and even cloud his memories of that unfortunate scene. Just what he needed.

"Are you glad now?" Rindou asked, returning to the bed.

He nodded, lying down beside him sweetly, honeyed and happy. A hand stroked his hair as they looked at each other, facing each other, lying down and covered up to the neck. It only took a few minutes for him to blink heavily, enveloped in the warmth of the tranquilizers. His breathing became rhythmic and Rindou kept stroking his head lovingly.

"...thank you," he whispered, chasing after the nice homey feeling. "Rin…" 

The aforementioned raised an eyebrow, receiving him in his arms. Again, as usual, he was frustrated. Not with Sanzu, but with himself, for giving him back what made him miserable and weak. Sanzu hid his face in his chest sleepily.

"Tell me" Rindou touched his sides, pinching him gently so he wouldn't fall asleep without speaking.

"I don't know, I don't..." A lazy growl sounded, as if he was thinking what he was going to say, or had completely forgotten. "Don't stop hugging me" 

"I won't stop doing it."

Sanzu gritted his teeth, denying. He climbed into the crook of his neck, feeling the lines of his naked body, the touch of his skin, not sinful, but comfortable and relaxed. He liked to join in with his breathing, put a leg between his, caress the back of his neck.

"Do I bother you?" He muttered, clinging to his back, he didn't want him to let go.

"Of course not" 

He knew that he was lying. Sanzu hated being lied to. He was annoying, a pure parasite who didn't deserve anything. And yet, Rindou accepted him in his arms, pampered him as if he were his. God, how he would like to be his.

Ran was wrong. He loved him so much that he couldn't continue like this. He hated that he saw him as someone arrogant and self-centered who only cared about himself, when everything he did was for Rindou. He took him home at dawn, accompanied him when work became hard, in his spare time, he held him when he got drunk — even though he always got worse and ended up tripping down the stairs somewhere. He was trying to be the best for him, and Ran would never accept that, because Ran Haitani hated Sanzu Haruchiyo, and no matter how hard he tried, nothing would change that fact.

He was only able to whisper a nonsense before falling asleep.

"I'm sorry I'm a piece of shit... don't leave me..."

His voice trailed off, Rindou hugged him and rested his chin on his head. "Because I need you more than I need me.", he thought. "Or to need me."

"I dont actually know".

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

V. 

Sanzu liked them better when they bled. When they drooled, when the gag was so tight that their gums showed, and smelly puddles collected at his feet.

Sanzu liked them dying. He loved that point so close to death and yet lucid enough that they could hear and feel, and squirm like worms. Scream. He loved last words, the ease with which people could break down and repent in their last moments of life.

"You're not going to die yet," he hissed, plunging the needle into the bound man's leg. "You fucking scum" 

Sanzu liked having Rindou's eyes on him when he tortured.

The guy was nobody, just a fucking traitor with a tongue too long. He could see the severed muscle in the metal cube to one side. Yeah, very long. He had tied him to a chair whose nuts were beginning to rust with age. The whimpering, the futile attempts to stir, all of it gave him indescribable satisfaction.

Adrenaline coursed through the son of a bitch's veins and Sanzu smiled, watching the Haitanis talk to each other in their usual corner. Ran abandoned the warehouse, but not before giving him a long look that denoted aggressiveness.

"Bonten isn't made for whores like you," he growled, surrounding the man with a loud laugh.

He touched his shoulders from behind him, digging his fingers into his dirty, bloody shirt. Rindou was approaching them with a big smile. Sanzu slid his touch down the guy's chest, moving his hand up his throat, pulling his neck back. As if he were offering a fawn to a hungry lion. He could feel his pulse racing, his breathing heavy.

"Bonten is made for men like him."

Neat and clean suit, designer shoes, white shirt pressed that morning. Flower perfume and the smell of murder.

Rindou Haitani was machiavellian. Perhaps that was why they had caught each other's attention when they first met. He basked in the pain of others, he rolled up his shirt sleeves with a dark look, the kind of look Sanzu would kill for.

"Could I try?" the Haitani asked, looking him up and down. "I also wanna have fun" 

He bit his lip hard. Only Rindou knew how to turn a kill into something as pleasurable as sex. Not everyone could guess what was hidden behind that facade of a good and quiet boy who always obediently accompanied his older brother.

Wherever he looked, it burned. Those pupils stopped at the katana that he had sheathed, hanging from his belt. Then he knew exactly what he wanted to try, and it was like fire erupting with excitement.

From one moment to the next, he hovered around him, drawing the weapon, cutting the air with the edge.

"Beautiful, right?" he asked the unfortunate man, who was blindfolded. Death was sweeter when people didn't see it coming.

He held out the katana to Rindou. He sighed into the back of his neck, stepping behind him. He wanted to help him position himself well, and he ended up wrapped in the masculine halo of his perfume. He recognized the Giorgio Armani he had given him for his birthday, the first gift he had given in many years.

He wrapped his arms around his waist, holding his hands securely. Palms out, strong grip, edge perpendicular to the ground, one foot forward.

As incredible as he seemed, Rindou was soft, comfortably warm. He had accidentally stained his hands from the blood that spattered on his own. He caressed his knuckles gently, resting his chin in the crook of his neck. He blew a few purple strands to the side.

 "Haru…" 

"Hmm?" He made a guttural sound, caressing his abdomen on the way to his chest. He placed a kiss on the side of his neck, wet and velvety.

He adjusted the red tie he was wearing, running his fingers over Bonten's tattoo. Rindou sighed, tilting his head to search for his mouth.

"In my pocket," the executive stated, before catching his lower lip between his teeth.

He raised an eyebrow, wrapping a hand around his waist. Rindou pulled his lip and released him to kiss him with a smile. He lowered his other hand to one of his pants pockets, cupping his lips. He tasted of nicotine, his tongue working its way into his mouth and he sank in gently, licking lovingly.

First, he patted the pocket, noticing that he was moving the katana experimentally in the air. He heard a perfectly recognizable sound and smiled into the kiss.

"You brought me a present," he murmured, pulling out the tiny plastic bag.

"I knew you were running out of them. I got it in powder, I hope it doesn't matter" 

A sudden movement. Sanzu moved away from him to let him maneuver. He looked at the ecstasy powder. He didn't like sniffing very much because of the discomfort it caused in his nose, in the wounds he had inside. He preferred the quick method of gulping down pills, but he would take anything Rindou gave him.

He had a trio of those left somewhere. Before reaching the warehouse he had taken one. It wasn't enough, but he had wanted to dose them. In that instant, he could take them and enjoy, shit. Rindou was a genius, a fucking genius. He wanted to grab hold of that pretty little face and kiss him until his teeth rotted sweetly.

"Look." He found the pills and pulled them out of his pants. Pink, blue and green, in a plastic bag like the one he had given him. "C'mon, share with me" 

"It's not for you to spend it all now," Rindou cut the air above the traitor's head. A strand of hair flew out. "What I just gave you has to last you at least a week. Save those others for an emergency" 

The man's nervous moans echoed through the room. Sanzu winced, admiring how Rindou propped the guy's chin up with the blade.

"I said I wanted to share them." He put his hands on his hips. "With you" 

They looked at each other with mutual curiosity. Sanzu looked down at the ground, noticing a nagging dizziness in the front of his head. The first and only one he had taken struggled to take effect, but it wasn't enough. He wanted more, much more.

He knew that Rindou didn't take drugs. Or, at least, he had never seen him do it. He smoked a lot, he always smelled of tobacco, of Giorgio Armani. It was hard for him to get drunk, he had to drink a lot, or something powerful to do it. He didn't seem to be used to the wretchedness of the mundane. Maybe Ran had something to do with those kinds of decisions.

Drunken Rindou was so funny and mischievous. He loved it. On more than one occasion they had come out of some bar at dawn, singing loudly, falling down stairs, to the ground, playing and laughing like two teenagers.

But, he wanted to spend time with him, to obsess over the fact that he was wearing the perfume he gave him that night. He wanted to hide in his neck and smell him, sigh, feel wanted to satisfy his stupid imagination. His fingers trembled with cramps and he shook his hands, opening the bag of pills.

He pursed his lips in anticipation, a pang of pain returning to his head, and he hissed an insult under his breath. More more more. He circled him with a giggle and sighed into the back of his neck, pressing against his body. He took out a pink pill with the logo of some disgustingly famous brand.

"Haruchiyo," Rindou warned, grabbing his wrist as he tried to get the drug into his mouth.

He never called him by his name.

Rindou reached out, holding the katana with one hand. He brought the end of the blade forward, stroking the betrayer's Adam's apple, which he began to sob and deny. Saliva escaping from the gag, Sanzu clung to his body, purring insistently.

He felt those huge dilated pupils looking at him from behind. The way the tip of his nose slid down his neck. He was cold and sweaty, almost shivering in anticipation of giving himself the fix he needed to be less of him.

Finally, he released him. He held the katana with both hands and opened his mouth. Sanzu's fingers pushed a pill onto his tongue, then a little further in, sinking a couple of fingers deep into his throat. A little touch. He swallowed.

Oh poison. The irony of the dregs of society. Everyone hated what it killed, but it brought life to the farthest and most remote corners of all of Japan. Memories of the typical neon lights of any shitty joint came to mind, Sanzu getting high in the bathroom, as if he hated what he was, and needed to change it for something that, of course, didn't make him better.

The heat came fast. He wasn't used to the euphoric rush of ecstasy.

"I want to snort it on your cock," Sanzu whispered, kissing his neck slowly, pulling away from him after him.

The blade of the katana cut through the air with a hiss. The traitor's severed head flew a couple of meters, staining the ground. In the bloody tangle of his throat it could be seen the whitish bone gleam with a dark gleam.

From one moment to the next, the steel of his lips seared Sanzu's mouth with heat. The weapon was sheathed, his hands fluttered to Rindou's waist, squeezing the shape of his body. He left flecks of red on his shirt, tangled in the wet mess of his tongue, devouring, losing himself in the depth of a soul-shattering kiss.

They left the corpse there. They could pick it up later, clean it all up while giving each other knowing glances, though Sanzu would never let him get any more dirty than necessary. So they quickly slipped through the rusty metal door that opened into a room.

He had turned it into his torture pantry. Weapons hung from hooks on the walls, there was a shabby chair in one corner, a shelf of papers and videotapes that no one was supposed to see. Information, photographs, tongs, cleaning utensils. This warehouse was full of hiding places like this and even had a couple of torture rooms that he was proud of.

The door closed with an unpleasant screech and Sanzu's back hit the surface. His fingers found the light switch on the wall, then wandered to the back of Rindou's neck. He stroked the purple strands, pressed his head to his neck, chasing the pleasure of the lines of their bodies pressing together.

"You put on the perfume…" he sighed, closing his eyes. Full lips slid over the skin of his neck, settling too lightly. "The one I gave you... ah…" 

A whimper escaped his control. Rindou's teeth slipped through saliva grooves, biting him gently, holding the small of his back to pull him closer to him. A hand reached up, took Sanzu's and his fingers intertwined against the wall.

"I always wear it," Rindou whispered. His breath bounced pleasantly against the cold saliva. He lifted his chin.

 "Always?" 

Sanzu opened his eyes, breaking the grip of his hands to encircle him comfortably. He smiled, appreciating that those pupils of his were beginning to dilate, drunk on the image of him. He put a hand between them and reached down to touch him. Rosy cheeks, moist lips, uncontrolled breathing. Rindou was so pretty. He had good self-control, but he quickly stiffened at the feel of his palm finding his dick. He traced the length of him with the tip of his index finger, admiring how tightly he clung to his waist.

"Always," Rindou repeated, coming to his lips in a short, lazy kiss. "But, you never realize…" 

That expression was lost in pleasure momentarily as he rubbed him insistently. Up and down, pressing in just the right places, he felt his own cock grow impatient in his pants, but only Rindou mattered. Only him. He traced a semicircle on his glans, wanting to fling him onto the couch. He drummed his fingernails against his belt buckle.

Rindou had taken out the two remaining pills from his bag and was shoving them into his mouth, but Sanzu returned them with his tongue, slowly stroking him. He didn't want them, he could keep them all. A pair of lily eyes looked at him in confusion.

"Do you swallow or spit?" he teased, brushing purple strands behind one ear.

Rindou shook his head gracefully and ended up swallowing with some difficulty. He didn't know where the limit was, he didn't know when to stop when it came to Sanzu. Maybe that was what was so fucking dangerous about getting close to him.

The shock of heat shook his body and he thought he was dizzy, Sanzu laughed softly, holding his face to sink into the juice of his perfect lips.

"Idiot, if I die it'll be your fault," he muttered, breathing heavily.

They looked at each other and laughed. Sanzu trembled with impatience, pretending that he could wait a little longer for his usual dose, locked between the door and his chest. It was important to him, fucking important, even though he wouldn't say it out loud. It was something he had given him, the perfume, that nonsense that meant so much. He dropped his face into the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent he gave off, happy.

He never bought things for others, but he had had the urge to do so with Rindou. The store clerk had wrapped it in gift paper and he had stared at the colors, half drugged, half happy, because it reminded him of Christmas. In his house there weren't many gifts when he was a brat and he didn't remember any in particular. Giving something away felt strange, but seeing Ran Haitani's expression as he watched his little brother open the perfume was a fucking triumph.

He didn't think he would use it. In fact, he went so far as to tell himself that it didn't matter if he threw his gift in the trash and pretended that he liked it. But, Rindou was wearing it and it made him extremely elated.

The ceiling gooseneck flickered from time to time, illuminating the weapons hanging from the hooks, Bonten's second-in-command sitting in the chair, the springs screeching under his weight.

Sanzu caressed Rindou's thighs, visibly hungry, eager. In his lap rested the bag of ecstasy powder. He stroked the conspicuous bulge that was Rindou's cock, looking up at him with a hint of innocence, before opening the belt and undoing the button. He partially lowered his pants, along with the elastic of his previous clothing, and his partner's erection hit him in the face.

He purred lewdly, stroking the base of him without taking his eyes off him. Rindou shuddered, fingers curling around the pink hair as Sanzu's tongue tried a kiss on the wet head, licking playfully to the side.

"Shit, Haru, hurry up…" he begged, scratching his scalp. "Get this over with" 

"Someone woke up needy, huh?" he scoffed, opening the small plastic bag.

It was fast. He was so nervous about having it that he almost spilled all the powder on it, but he managed to hold the perfect amount between his thumb and forefinger. He pulled up Rindou's shirt, running his fingers through the fine trail of blond body hair, leaning on his abs. He spread the drug carefully, noticing that he was growing impatient.

He smiled proudly, admiring his artwork. He held Rindou's cock straight with a couple of fingers. He closed his hand around the head, his thumb stroking the wet cleft as he leaned closer and pressed his nose to the side. He closed his eyes and sucked in a breath, moving down the length of him until he sighed at the small stab of pain in his head.

His nose itched, it made him want to sneeze and his eyes were watery with exertion. Rindou gently lifted his chin, wiping away a tear that was sliding down his cheek.

There was something about those irises that unsettled him, the way Rin stroked his bangs back. He wasn't one of those men who grabbed and pulled his hair until it hurt, he only did it if he was sure that was what he wanted or needed. And Sanzu wanted him to slam into his cock, force him to swallow and writhe and cry. He was always so gentle.

Or at least most of the time. He wouldn't deny that he didn't like the times when Rindou was really wild, especially at the beginning of their strange relationship, when they were teenagers with too much desire to fuck. It could be said that they had matured over time.

 The words stumbled across his palate.

"I'm rotting for you," he confessed, with an awkward crooked smile, rubbing the back of his hand across his nose.

A drop of blood fell from his nose and soaked his lips red. Sanzu touched his own face, wiping it off in a hurry to get back to his work, avoiding Rindou's gaze. It was that look of concern that he was so afraid of, he couldn't face it. And Rindou knew that whatever he said, Sanzu wouldn't remember the next morning.

There were a few specks of dust left that he didn't mind licking off. Fire brewed inside him as he brought the head of his cock to his mouth and enveloped it, caressing his thighs, holding persistently at the base. He played with him in his mouth, licking, sucking until he heard a tiny moan.

He closed his eyes. The reflection on the blade of the weapons showed him relaxing to take it all in, pushing Rindou down his throat with a guttural sound that reverberated across his sensitive, wet skin.

"...fuck..." Rindou whimpered, throwing his head back with a pleasant snore. So fucking tight he made him shiver. "Haru, you... ah... so good…" 

Sanzu pulled his cock out of his mouth with a low chuckle, purposely blowing on the saliva. The sudden cold shivered Rindou, his fingers twitching in the pink hair, pulling. The sound of his voice was as sweet as its taste, he could go crazy with just that, with his hands caressing him, pampering him, and the whimpers that he was so used to, but which, however, were so unique and satisfying every time. 

The sound of heavy breathing, his body jittery on his drugs, drunk on the feel of Sanzu's velvety tongue sliding up and down and licking like a kitten. He masturbated him with his hands, squeezing where he knew he liked it best, looking up at him to delight in that gasping, open mouth, dilated pupils. He swallowed hard and his tattoo moved in unison.

Rindou had to loosen his tie, throw his vest aside. It was so fucking hot, the constant tingling of a young orgasm began to churn through his body with a strange dizziness. Pain and numbness in his muscles. And he could only see Sanzu taking him until his nose brushed his belly, and urging him to use him that way. He tightened his grip on the strands, rocking him back and forth.

His heart was pounding in his ears, the impossible urge to move confusing him to the point where he didn't know what was going on, except that he was fucking horny and needy. He could push him off and flop over him on the couch, ask him if he really didn't know what he was doing with his fucking life. They could fuck right there and no one would interrupt them.

"...ah, shit..." he muttered, stifling a moan deep in his throat. "...Ah!"

He cursed under his breath, sighing. The ceiling flex flickered insistently, as if this were too much. He felt his vision blur and he didn't know if it was for pleasure or the stupid drugs he was beginning to regret accepting.

Teary blue eyes stared up at him from his crotch as he carelessly fucked his mouth. He didn't even know what he was doing and lost control at times when he didn't understand why Sanzu was crying, or why he felt so bad. He just wanted to stop and caress that pretty face, kiss his scars, ask him not to over-consume and return him to torturing him because he looked hot with blood on his hands.

His cock disappeared again through the velvet lips. Rindou groaned an insult, feeling the walls of Sanzu's throat tighten around his member, just for him, he would shape them just so he could fuck that little mouth like that. His. Sanzu was his and never realized it because he spent his days with his head in the clouds, and his nights lost in pills.

He came home each day, receiving the curious looks from Ran in the car, the warnings he had given him since the time the older had caught them kissing, years ago. And it was always the same: “He's going to hurt you, Rin. And when he does, I swear I'll kill him. I'll kill that son of a bitch and teach him that no one can hurt you without consequences"

Ran wouldn't understand. He would never know what it was to love Sanzu. Waking up and seeing him shrunken beside him like a broken doll, seeing him tremble with withdrawal and knowing that he was the only one who could understand what he had been, what he was, what he had become; driving home and saying goodbye with tension because they spent their trips looking at each other through the mirrors.

He blinked heavily, brushing his hands through his pink hair. He had something in his veins that begged him to move and he didn't want to.

"You're mine" he bit his lip, suppressing a guttural sound. "Understand?" he tugged on Sanzu's hair, pulling his cock out of his mouth, resting it on his lower lip. " But look at you, shit…"

It was so soft, his warm breath, his wet tongue licking obediently at his anger. But, Rindou wasn't angry, he wanted to cry.

Sanzu was a fucking dog tired of not belonging to anyone despite having a tight collar around his neck. Rindou wanted Sanzu to be free.

That's how it felt to love him. Reciprocating the always high alter ego and the melancholy little mess he was when he woke up next to him. The slow kisses in which he could really feel the love they both had for each other, genuine love, the need to be with each other.

He released the pink strands from between his fingers, closing his eyes. The string of moans escaped his mouth, his knees trembling as he spilled into Sanzu's mouth.

"And what about that?" Sanzu laughed, swallowing with pleasure. The corners of his lips were painted off-white. "Come, come here…" 

Sanzu tugged at Rindou's clothing, smoothly dragging him to the couch. He snuggled into him, straddling his lap, fingering his cock teasingly, wanting more and more and more, as if it were the same drugs he loved so much. Nothing mattered to him other than being his shameless whore, giving him pleasure because he loved watching him moan and break down.

"Fuck, it's hot…" Rindou complained, touching his forehead.

He nodded, it was terribly hot. He momentarily hid his face in the crook of his neck. He smelled good, like the gift he had given him. He placed a kiss on his cheek, brushing aside purple strands, brushing his hair back with a playful laugh.

"Let's make a mess, Rin." He rested a hand on his chest, feeling the quick breath under his palm. He leaned down to whisper in his ear. "Fuck me 'til I forget my name" 

Bonten was made for men like him. Unattainable for dogs like Sanzu.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

VI.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.." 

A strange stream of smoke was coming out of one of the culverts in the floor. Another punch turned his face away, while the sounds of the city seemed to tremble with dizziness. The red rose he'd bought fell to the ground, the stuffed jellyfish snatched from his hands and thrown across the alley.

Ran Haitani grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, studying the streak of blood running down his nose. He pushed him back, Sanzu's head hit the brick wall with a thud.

"I told you to stay away from him, you scum," the Haitani spat, wrinkling his nose in contempt. "I told you not to lay a fucking hand on him…" 

Sanzu didn't even dare to look at him. It wasn't like he could see anything either. Everything had been clouded by the tears in his eyes, and even Ran's voice had trembled as he swore at him and dug his knee into his stomach. He doubled over, gasping for air and saliva.

Across the street, at the hospital, Rindou Haitani was on a stretcher due to respiratory arrest caused by the amphetamines he had consumed.

 "I should kill you right here."

"...sorry," he whispered, shaking his head. The metallic taste of blood entered his mouth, where, hours before, Rindou had deposited affectionate kisses. "I'm sorry... I didn't want…" 

A kick to his side knocked him to the concrete floor. He let out a groan, his hands beaded with bloody scratches. He had no power to defend himself and he didn't. He had offered the pills to Rindou knowing that he never took drugs, not even bothering to check that it was a safe dose for him and not even paying attention to that "I feel sick". He had been too busy caressing his bare chest, outlining the tattoos, both of them lying on the couch in the torture room.

"Don't say another fucking word," Ran threatened, kneeling down next to him to grab his hair. His fingers sank into the pink locks. "Mangy dog, if I see you near him again I'll blow your head off, do you hear me?" 

Tears of helplessness fell down his face. For the first time, he made eye contact with him, with those eyes that Rindou had also inherited. Lilacs, lavender, beautiful flowers and colors, but Ran was furious.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice trembling.

Ran released him and kicked his shoulder down, causing him to kneel. He spat on the ground beside Sanzu's hands and crushed the flower under his boot, twisting the sole against the petals.

“You're nothing but a parasite"

No one could mess with the Haitanis and get away unscathed. If Sanzu was still alive it was because his position in Bonten was valuable, otherwise Ran would have shown no mercy. He would have shot him in broad daylight, in that dirty alley, where dogs like him belonged.

Sanzu sat up awkwardly, dizzy. He rubbed his shirt sleeves across his face, not caring that they were stained with blood, sobbing. He pursed his lips, looking at the stuffed toy he had bought for when Rindou woke up, the rose with the broken stem. Only the thorns remained.

First he took his bottle of cold water. He was still very thirsty, it always happened after the effects of the fucking drugs wore off. He emptied it with a pang of pain in his chest, trying to clean his clothes, then tossing it around, listening to the plastic bounce off him. 

He bent down and picked up the small stuffed animal that he had bought at a bazaar, while he waited for news from Rindou. It was purple and blue, quilted. He put it under his arm, while he looked at what was left of the rose. The flower was shattered, hardly any petals remained, just as there was hardly any of himself left in the reflection of the puddle into which he had fallen.

He brushed the thorns with his fingers, hesitating as to whether or not he would catch it. Finally, he left it there, abandoned in the middle of a city that he had always hated.

He stood still at the exit of the alley, not knowing which way to turn. Return home, go back to the warehouse and clean up the remains of the corpse to get rid of it. He felt so despicable that his gaze was lost in the memories of Rindou's smile, hours ago, the laughter, the caresses. And he thought that he had once sworn to kill anyone who hurt him. In the end, there was no one who hurt Rindou Haitani more than Sanzu Haruchiyo.

He could've disappeared from there, stopped calling him, sending him messages, thinking about his naked body at night; start ignoring him in meetings, in the elevator of Bonten's main building. However, Sanzu was no better than those fucking moths fluttering toward a light they could never have, and he crossed the street to the hospital.

He knew on what floor and room he was recovering on because Ran had kicked him out of there. He didn't enter the room. He stood in the hall, peering through the crack of the open door.

Inside, Ran stroked his brother's hair gently. Rindou was blinking heavily, looking at him and closing his eyes momentarily as he received a kiss on his forehead. He had been awake for nearly half an hour. His body seemed so fragile, lying there, he had a needle stuck in his arm and a non-invasive medical ventilator was going towards his face. The glass misted with his breath.

"No, don't." Ran grabbed his brother's wrist as he tried to remove the ventilator. "It helps you breathe, Rin" 

Rindou paid no attention. He unbuckled the straps that tightened around his jaw and let out a long breath as he pulled the ventilator away from his mouth. Ran clicked his tongue, cupping his face.

"...I...I can do it by myself..." Rindou spoke, his throat dry, he coughed hard, taking steady gasps of air.

The older offered him water and Rindou insistently drank, about to choke. Ran was looking at him with an expression of joy to see that he was okay, but, deep down, violent ideas kept running through his head.

"Do you want something from the cafeteria?" I'm sure some sugar will do you good." He smiled, as if he hadn't beat Haruchiyo up just fifteen minutes before. "I'll go ask the nurses, wait" 

Sanzu fled from the door and scampered down the hall, ducking behind a corner. He hugged the stuffed animal tightly, nervously. He could see Ran talking to a woman in a white coat, then going to the other end of the hall to take the elevator.

There was no mirror to reflect his battered face, dotted with a couple of bruises. A piece of tissue covered one of his nostrils, where the blood had stopped flowing. His body ached, his clothes were dirty, and the scrapes on his hands burned against the air.

The smell of antiseptic filled his lungs as he strode down the hallway, squeezing the jellyfish, sinking his fingers into the padded plush. His heart was beating rapidly in his ears, accompanying the sound of his boots on the floor.

When he peeked back into the room, Rindou had put the ventilator back on his face. His purple hair was tousled and his skin had paled noticeably. He rested his hands in his lap and quietly closed his eyes, resting.

Sanzu wondered if he wanted to talk. If he wanted to hear an apology, or even look him in the eye. He bit his lip hard, on the verge of tears.

His whole life had been chaos to the point that he himself had become one. He dragged people into his orbit of danger and debauchery without considering the consequences that he pretended he didn't care about. He dragged Rindou, and that's what happened.

When his eyes met, his heartbeat spiked, he broke out in a sweat. Rindou was looking at him with a mixture of confusion and curiosity from the stretcher, probably still in a daze from what had happened.

He swallowed hard, putting his hand on the door to open it fully. He knew that if Ran found him there, he would give him another beating, but he needed to be right next to him. It was slow, again a step after the previous one, his breath altered, a stabbing pain in his stomach.

"Rin..." His voice trembled and his eyes filled with tears. He sniffled. "I'm sorry…" 

Silence. Rindou raised his eyebrows, recognizing the marks of blows, the bruises. Sanzu could've stayed there, in the middle of the place, but his body moved on its own.

He landed in his arms, drawn into the orbit of all the memories that made up so much of his life. The laughs, the cigarettes and the fights, the stars of every night, the beers and the sea. The sea where they never met to dance, his stupid illusions based on broken dreams between drugs and alcohol.

"I'm sorry, I didn't want something like that to happen…" he sobbed, stumbling over letters, syllables, and words. Tears streamed down his bleak expression, falling from his chin. "I didn't mean... I didn't want…" 

The mattress sagged under his weight and Sanzu leaned down to hug him, burying his face in the crook of his neck. Rindou's hands caressed his back delicately, as if he was going to break at any moment. The little crystal strayed from him.

He was always so warm, so kind to him. He could step on the shit, spread it everywhere and Rindou would be there to listen to him, forgive him and accompany him. Nice, with his hands dirty from murder, and yet so soft, they ran over his body in comforting caresses and he said nothing, as always. It was as if he was waiting for him to find the right words, for him to sober up.

"...I never meant to hurt you," Sanzu cried, hiccuping. "I swear, I swear that…" 

"Hey, it's not your fault…" 

He bit back a sob, shaking against his warm skin. It was like having a fire in his chest, the only way to calm him down was to puke him up, draw out the flames and make everything burn. Even if the price was to get him away from him, Sanzu couldn't take it anymore.

Too many years being haunted by that feeling that filled him with warmth and cold at the same time. From the curious looks, more than a decade ago, in Yokohama, to the strange moments alone they spent during the time of the Kanto Manji. Dominating the world and crushing it under his boots was like sleeping with him and looking at him in the morning. Rindou was the whole world for him.

He was always a lonely person, who stayed behind the back of others. Observing in complete silence the movements of others, the secrets, the fog left behind by the fights. Sanzu never knew what love was until, following his captain, he ended up in the same gang as Rindou; he had hunted him so many times by glancing at him that he had begun to do so too, inevitably attracted.

Anyone would think that Sanzu was a rather libidinous and capricious guy. The truth was that as a young man he had been quite introverted and never got to interact with many people before the Kanto Manji was formed. He had never had time for that falling-in-love nonsense, because all of his attention had been on Mikey and his targets.

All of his first times were with Rindou, and he treasured them in a way he didn't with anything else. He had gotten so used to his voice and body that he was terrified of being with others.

The stuffed animal, which had been left on his lap, slipped and fell to the ground with an imperceptible sound. He was trembling, Rindou's chest was heaving heavily.

"I love you," he whispered. "A lot, okay? I love you so much, and..., and…" 

"Haru" 

"...you don't even have to love me back, you just..."

"Haru, look at me"

He raised his head, afraid that he had been upset to melt like that. Rindou wiped away his tears and his face hurt. Holding his gaze was worse than facing the feelings that had consumed him for so long.

Rindou carefully removed the ventilator, breathing noisily, as if he were rehearsing the rhythm of the air entering and leaving his body. A rosy color filled his cheeks with a blush, as he smiled weakly.

"I love you too" 

Time stopped for Sanzu. A tear ran down his face and Rindou brushed it away with his thumb, holding his face with one hand.

"... Why?" he managed to say, touching his hand and holding it there.

Rindou cocked his chin, looking at him wistfully. He pulled him close enough for Sanzu to understand what he wanted. Sanzu leaned in slowly, his lips gently collided. It felt like he was at home.

He never got the answer. Just his mouth moving against his briefly, breaking to sigh and look at each other; a stuffed jellyfish and a crushed rose somewhere in Tokyo. Drugs in his pocket. Sanzu hid against his neck again, sobbing.

Being loved turned out to be a beautiful feeling for scum like him.