When the bells rang in the distance, the sound was hollow yet it threatened to swallow him whole. He stopped just short of the church steps, umbrella in hand. Why didn’t it rain?
Maybe then he could spare some pity in the depths of his heart.
Were the bells always this close?
A flock of gray pigeons scattered into the early morning. Unusually sunny, much unlike the man they gathered to mourn. The funeral bells finally stopped. Tanaka Juri continued up the steps, the click of his shoe fading into the crisp autumn air.
The service was already in session when he arrived, lingering just outside the door. The room was filled with dark-clothed attendees, some appearing more solemn than others. Confused children terrified at the sight of their parents' quiet tears. He hated every bit of that sight.
Juri couldn’t stand the sight of the service, turning on his heel and leaving without ever entering the room.
“Sir—I think you left this.”
He turned around to a man calling out to him. Clad in black. Arrived just as he left. They brushed shoulders.
“Doesn’t seem like I’ll need it.” Juri smiled and pointed at the blue skies.
He continued down the steps, until the man said something suddenly.
“Did you want to come in? Leave a flower? It’ll mean a lot to Tony.”
“Tony.” Juri scoffed under his breath.
The same man who used to shove him into a coat closet after the horrible things he’d done. Someone as criminal as the man in the casket didn’t deserve the mourning he received.
“I’ll pass.” Juri smiled, a small courteous one.
But the man didn’t let up, and neither were sure why.
“Do you believe in God?”
“Excuse me?” Juri stopped for the third time, curious.
“Tony did.”
“I know.” Juri replied offhandedly, leaving the conversation.
“How do you figure?”
Juri sighed, adamant on walking away this time.
“His fat ass was praying to God when I put the bullet through his thick skull.”
*
*
*
Jesse woke that morning with a hangover and a pit in his stomach.
He woke face down, hand under his pillow, and without a shirt. Nothing unusual yet, but he pushed up from the sheets — a pale baby blue, clean, not his — then remembered he hadn’t gone home the night before. The ceiling fan overhead spun aggressively to compensate for the rattling air conditioning unit in the corner. The room was tinted by the blinds drawn to a close, but he’d recognize the interiors anywhere. The motel down the street from his office. His turf.
He yawned, his fingers running through his hair before he fell back onto the mattress and let out a deep sigh. It did nothing to make the bone-deep premonition go away. Just like how the ceiling fan did nothing to cool his skin that always felt like it was burning when he slept.
When Jesse finally peeled out of bed he found a pair of pants with relative ease, but bending over made him wince. There was rain due on the forecast. He knew. His old wounds ached, seared phantom pain into his skin. And there was the pit he couldn’t ignore, so deep he brushed away the usual nightmares with ease, washed down an Advil for the hangover, and still had a bad feeling.
Jesse wandered out into the dingy hallway, shoes slipped on but shirt scarcely buttoned much to the delight of the woman at the front desk.
“Well, don’t button them for my sake.” She announced, rather loudly, unashamed at the view of Jesse Lewis leaning over her counter, “What is it?”
“What is it?” Jesse retorted, “Come on. We’re past this point, aren’t we?”
His hand outstretched at the older woman manning the concierge.
“Can’t blame me for trying.” Maria reached under the counter and laid out a variety of items: gold rings, an expensive watch, and even a pair of eyeglasses.
Jesse exhaled, defeated, but used to the routine, “Do you rob all of your clients?”
“Only the hot ones.”
“Funny. When are you going to pay rent?”
“I’m only two days past. Give me some grace.”
Jesse didn’t respond to her request while dressing his hands. Then, he picked up his glasses, “Really? Even my glasses?”
“You don't need them.”
“Says who.” He put them on, brushed his hair in the reflection of the window and turned to leave.
“I’ll send some guys down this way.” He waved behind him.
Jesse always looked out for Maria’s business, even if she tried to rob him from time to time.
*
*
*
Jesse hadn’t intended to cure a hangover by drinking more, but his plans said otherwise. He found himself sitting at the counter of a pub across town, eyes hot on his back as the bartender pushed a neat double of whiskey across the bartop. He flashes a brief smile, putting his lips to the glass for a small burning sip. It seemed everyone in the room was too surprised to do anything about his appearance. Or at least that’s what Jesse hoped. He was wide open to the entire room of people who wanted him dead for a myriad of reasons.
But Jesse ordered another drink and it sat there collecting condensation as the ice melted into the golden liquid. He was waiting for company.
Everyone wondered loudly with their jarring stillness until a man emerged into the room and nearly jumped at Jesse rising out of his seat and showing his face.
“Nice of you to join me.” Jesse didn’t waste a beat, drawing his gun and a bullet pierced the man’s leg before anyone in the room could react – which they did. The fire drew a large reaction, everyone up in arms at their boss getting shot by the rival leader.
“Wait – Lewis. What the fuck!” The man folds over, clutching the bleeding while the rest of the room inches closer, trigger happy and waiting for the order to fire. Jesse slowly stalks over, towering over the man he shot.
“I should be the one asking that.” He drags the man by the collar and weapons are halfway drawn before Jesse gestured to their boss in his literal grip.
“Sit down! All of you!” He yelled, humiliated by Jesse, and dropped into a table in the far corner of his own pub. Every man begrudgingly sat down, jaws clenched at the quiet negotiations in the corner.
Color washed from the man’s face. He groaned at the pain in his leg, fresh from the bullet. Jesse approached their table again, this time holding the two glasses.
“Oh don’t be such a baby.” Jesse scoffed as he pushed the full drink across the table, “You had it coming.”
He groaned again, this time in begrudging annoyance because he knew Jesse was right. His greed in the moment cost him this, and frankly he should’ve known Jesse of all people would come after him.
“In the interest of time and your bleeding leg, I’ll tell you what I want.”
The man chugged the whole shot leaving a ball of ice clinking against the glass as he slammed it onto the table.
“You’ve lost my good faith. Prices are going up until we can trust each other again. Storage fees. Port fees.” Jesse leaned in, “And if you don’t pay, I’m dumping all your shit into the ocean. Am I clear?”
“Don’t you think you’re overreacting a little?” This felt less like a negotiation by the minute.
“No, an overreaction would be if I came in here and put a fucking bullet in your head.”
“All over a few crates of guns? I told you I needed them–”
“You shorted me. Left my men hanging. Wasted my time.” Jesse listed, “Shall I go on?”
“Fine. My bad.” The man apologized through his gritted teeth, knowing he had to appease Jesse to save his skin.
“That’s a good boy. Your next two shipments are mine.” He finished his drink, got up and left the glass neatly atop the coaster.
“Two?!”
“Interest.”
The man exhaled, both in defeat and in pain as Jesse strong-armed his way into their new deal. But before he could reach the door, he stopped Jesse again.
“Wait.”
Jesse turned, surprised. The man gestured for Jesse to have another word in private. His steps cautious as he crossed the room again, “What?”
“You know Fat Tony died?”
He paused, surprised – but tried his best to hide it – and nodded.
“Not just him. A bunch of the old man’s crew. What do you know about it?.”
“Nothing more than you do. But I’ll look into it.” His tone flat, cold and Jesse left without another word.
These were his streets more than they are anyone else' s but the prospect of getting closer to that ring again left Jesse feeling small – like he was the child victim to their exploitation all over again.
The pit got deeper and darker.
Jesse wasted the whole afternoon sitting in his office, one smoke after another, lost in the thoughts that won’t leave him. Memories he hated visiting, ones that haunted his nightmares, but now bled into his day. The feeling of being chased, racing against time, yet there was nothing to run towards – no finish line, no way out. His heart raced and his hand shook as he pushed yet another cigarette into the ash tray.
He hadn’t even noticed when the sun set entirely, until the shadows of the streetlights poured into the window behind him.
“Shit.” Jesse muttered under his breath, scrubbed his face with his hand and ran out when he finally took notice of the time.
His bike tore across the city for the second time that day to meet someone who may know about what he had promised to investigate. The bell jingled as he pushed open the door to the diner and slid into a booth. He grabbed a laminated menu and glanced around suspiciously.
Jesse finished his second hamburg steak, even some pancakes, and the seat across from him had still been empty. His informant never failed him. Not the best with time, but always showed up.
He gave it another 30 minutes while his stomach churned with that nasty sinking feeling from the morning that he hoped to wash down with lukewarm coffee. Jesse grew worried, his backside ached, and became almost certain the man wouldn’t show. Finding a new informant would be troublesome if he slithered into hiding.
Or worse he was dead. The night air picked up a strong gust of wind almost on cue, carrying Jesse’s coat tail with it as he stood under the diner’s neon sign. He reached his hand out past the awning, the patter of fat raindrops grew loud against the tarp.
He sighed. Jesse tucked his glasses into his pocket if they were going to get wet in the rain anyways. Maria was right. He didn’t need them. They were a disguise. A bad one, he knew, but it also gave him peace of mind that he was at least trying. He could never let them find out the child that he was.
Much less, if a ghost of the past should decide to return to haunt him.
Jesse turned the corner. He spoke too soon.
His foot took a few more hesitant steps into the alley and it made sense that his informant stood him up, seeing as he was lying dead in an alley. The foreboding feeling manifested in physical form when a man emerged from the shadows, gun between his fingers. His throat narrowed, choking for air and the wet footsteps thudded on his heart like drum beats.
He dressed in all black, tie loose around his neck, and the temperamental rain auspiciously let up for a moment for Jesse to believe his eyes. The years between them forgave neither of them.
“You got taller.”
Juri.
“You didn’t bring an umbrella either, huh?” He chuckled.
Juri.
“Missed me?” He walked right up to Jesse.
Juri.
“I’m sorry.” Jesse mutters, the rain drops nearly washing out his voice entirely. He didn’t know. He wouldn’t have ever guessed – that seeing Tanaka Juri again – his first words would have been an apology. Maybe it had been a habit beaten into him, that he could apologize his way into earning someone’s love back.
Juri smiles cruelly, “Sorry? For what?”
“I…Juri, I’m sorry.” He repeated, stuttering over his words.
Juri smiled again. This time fondly, because maybe the tall dark haired man with shoulders twice his width was really still the little Masaya he knew.
“Masaya. Oh wait.” Juri stopped himself, took a step back and pushed his dripping hair back, “Or should I say Jesse?”
The rain stilled, or maybe they did. The alley was way too quiet otherwise. Maybe it grew twice its size, thrice its darkness, or maybe Jesse felt himself shrink.
“Am I next on your list, Juri?” Jesse finally mustered the question, fitting the puzzle pieces together.
Juri scoffed, kicking the water at his feet. The rain reduced to a drizzle, “No.”
“This is all somehow a coincidence then?”
“Of course not. Well, except this guy.” He pointed to the man laying face down in a puddle, “He was an unfortunate witness.”
“Then what?” Jesse pushed, taking a step into Juri, projecting himself after the shock began to pass.
Tanaka Juri looked up, tilted his head, narrowing his eyes, “You don’t get it, do you?”
Jesse looked back, puzzled, but unable to break their gaze, locking eyes for the first time that night.
“I’m doing what you couldn’t fucking do all these years...” The words were nothing but a loud whisper, but they were meant for Jesse in a way that stung like his deepest shame recited back to him.
Then, his eyes grew cold and resentful, “…right, Jesse?” He added sarcastically.
“...That was all you, then? Fat Tony and them?”
“They assaulted us, Jesse! We were children!” Juri’s raised voice echoed in the empty alley, and Jesse’s heart lurched, throbbed in size and pounded against the walls of his chest, “Have you forgotten? That bastard stuffed us in the closet after he was done with us! Every single time!”
“So you killed him.” Jesse said quietly, matter of fact, trying to affirm Juri’s course of action, but it only juxtaposed his own. It made his skin crawl with disgust, the sheer filth that must course in his veins. The price he paid for the freedom he stole yet he only ever made himself accomplice to suffering.
“What’s wrong?” Juri whispered pressed up against Jesse curiously, his warm breath tingling on Jesse’s neck, “Why aren’t you thanking me?”
Jesse stayed silent, his breath hitched at Juri’s cool skin against his.
“Or are you one of them now?” The question dropped like an anchor pulling Jesse deeper into the abyss every moment he left it unanswered.
Jesse’s breath skipped, “I can explain.”
But Juri stepped back, “I didn’t believe it when they said someone named Jesse controlled the streets now.”
He scoffed, “Said the old regime was gone. The new one just as evil – fair, but just as evil.”
“I wish I could say I claimed ownership for more noble reasons. But it was all to save my own skin.”
For some reason, accepting fault always came easier to him than parading any good he had done, “It was them or me. So I chose me.”
“So you keep children in your basement now too, hm?” The anger boiled in him, “Kids, Masaya!”
“No! Jesus Christ, no! What do you think I am?”
“Honestly, I don’t know.” Juri paused, “Maybe you should have stayed dead.”
Mourning Jesse – his Masaya – took years. He wasn’t sure he ever quite finished, not without closure. Some days closure was finding his own out, but every time he’d attempt and fail miserably. Brought back to life with a deeper pain each time.
Jesse let out a long exhale, a laugh that was more self-deprecating than anything. Like he was done denying.
“You’re right…Taiga should’ve never saved me…He’s all I have now…It’s pathetic…” His voice trailed, broken and defeated.
“Taiga.” Juri repeated. The name burned on his tongue.
Taiga barged into their lives – their miserable lives – like some kind of savior, when he was anything but. Juri never forgot the night Jesse came home with a glow in his eyes, talks of running away, and he couldn’t say no. He didn’t know how to tear down the hope, even though now he knew – clipping his wings would’ve been better than to let Taiga drop him into that hell fire.
Kyomoto Taiga killed Masaya.
Jesse was stupid for hoping to salvage his image in front of Juri. He was someone else now, and the sooner he made that clear the less heartache he’d save himself. Juri had clouded his judgement. Juri always was the exception.
“I’m not going to stop you from doing what you think is right.”
Even though he was pathetic, his new life did have a purpose.
“But these streets are my responsibility now. And I’m begging you to do this quieter. People are scared.”
When Jesse turned to walk away, he felt an arm jerk him back, pushing him against the brick wall. He slammed into the wall and Juri had him by the collar. He didn’t fight back.
“You don’t want to pick a fight with me, Juri. Trust me.” He slouched down to Juri’s level, “I’m serious.” His eyes were darkened, intimidating, and assertive. The man Jesse has grown into, if in any other life he would’ve been proud. But in this one, he only felt left behind.
Juri drew his gun, pressing it directly into Jesse’s chest, but he hadn’t even flinched at the sight of that.
“Tell me, Jesse.” His voice was unexpectedly soft, like losing Jesse a second time when he was alive was unfathomable, “Why did you leave me back then?”
“I was selfish.” Jesse admitted, too quickly, “Still am. That’s just the kind of person I am, Juri.”
“After everything you’ve done for me, I still chose to leave you behind without hesitation. The plan wouldn’t have worked if you came along. So I abandoned you. Just like that.” He confessed in painstaking detail, yet spared the consequences he suffered for it.
“...Because of Kyomoto Taiga?” Juri asked, when he really meant if this meant he chose a stranger over the boy who loved him more than himself.
“For Taiga. I chose Taiga.” Jesse confirmed. He was the worst. There was no denying anymore.
Juri cracked a broken smirk for a brief moment, “I’m going to rip his throat out.”
“If you need to kill someone, kill me. I’m the one who deserves it.” Jesse closed his eyes, surrendering himself to Juri, if it meant sparing Taiga.
Why did Jesse have faith that Juri would spare Taiga?
Why was he so willing to sacrifice himself for Taiga?
When the trigger never came, Jesse cracked his eyes open. The rain started up again just as their damp clothes began to dry, sticking to their skin again. The barrel slid down Jesse’s chest, before Juri dropped it entirely. Jesse couldn’t tell if it was rainwater or tears in his eyes, but his eyes grew soft with the gaze that sent him back to the boys that they were. Filled with a longing for a fair world where they still had each other, where the missing decade didn’t bleed them out like zombies without hearts. He made up his silence for the lack of a good way of saying “I love you” with the kind eyes that soothed all his angry bruises and lulled him to sleep with a low gentle voice. Jesse could never forget Juri – the boy who had no reason to love him, but always did without fail.
He could never erase the only good thing to ever come out of the hellhole they were born into.
Maybe Juri should kill him for how rotten he has become, but it didn’t stop Jesse from pinning Juri against the brick wall. Locks of wet hair fell between his eyes as he pressed against Juri, closed his eyes and pushed his own lips onto his. He gave him no time to think, no room to breathe, and he didn’t take no for an answer. The kiss tasted like rain water, like yearning, like regret, all messily wrapped into angry lips savoring and biting each other’s. Juri had only ever known Jesse as Masaya – and never wondered what he’d taste like. He never imagined he’d taste like cigarettes and sorrow. Like joy warped into resentment. Jesse’s large hands caressed Juri’s face, tight around his neck when he’d bite and gentle when he pressed his firm body against Juri’s.
The back of his head was flush against the brick wall, the knot in his throat gasping for air. The rain water beat down on them but unable to damper their flame until Jesse finally pulled away from the kiss, chest heaving, tight for breath. His head slacked against Juri’s shoulder, wiping away tears before he gave Juri one last kiss on the forehead.
“I wish I never saw you again.”
Jesse took a step back, his knees nearly buckling. He straightened, took a second step back. And then walked in long strides across the alley entirely before stopping.
When Juri caught his breath, he felt an instant chill. Bone-deep.
Without Jesse’s warm body on his.
Without Jesse’s burning lips marking his.
Without Jesse.
A memory came pounding through his head, through his veins and into his muscles. The sentiment he carved into his skin between him and the four walls of prison. Tanaka Juri wouldn’t be forgotten. Not again. Not ever again.
His arm shook as he raised it, trigger in hand. This time, he was locked onto the man he both hated and loved.
You were the one I loved the most, in this world which I hate.
And if you refuse to love me, I hope you hate me.
The loud raindrops against the pavement drowned out even the sound of a gunshot, yet somehow the drop of Jesse’s body against the pavement was loudest to Juri. His eyes blurred, drunk on emotions and he fell onto the pavement. Before he could crawl over, the bloody rainwater reached him first. Juri stared at the crimson, running between his fingers, before the blaring sound of sirens broke him out of a trance and he scurried away.
As quick as Juri haunted his way back into Jesse’s life, he vanished but not without leaving a trace.
I deserved this. Jesse smiled, brows furrowed in pain as he flipped himself against the bleeding wound. The glaring siren lights flashed in and out of the dark alley; Jesse dodged behind the banister. Then he remembered the dead body, and he knew he needed to get out of there.
He staggered his way up, collapsing over a few times. Not from fear, but from blood loss. A hot pulse radiated throughout his body, originating from his backside. Always from his backside.
The sinking feeling from the morning was gone. Vanished as quickly as the bullet entered him.
By the time Matsumura Hokuto found Jesse, he was burned through. Hokuto opened his bedroom door to find a bloody trail, leading to a Jesse sprawled on his floor, soaked all the way through and paler than a sheet of paper.
Hokuto tried to wake him, but it was all a blur to Jesse. His grip on Hokuto’s sleeve was tight, his words incoherent, and Hokuto hated himself for being endeared at the sight of Jesse vulnerable.
But Jesse was so nice when he wasn’t himself.
“Jesse?” Hokuto called out to him, but his voice sounded like a distant echo.
Carefully he peeled Jesse off of the floor, pulling back his long coat, and his white shirt made it easy to spot the wound. He leaned Jesse against himself, the shirt cool and sticky yet his skin hot and angry.
Hokuto sighed, but remained composed.
Jesse only ever came to him mangled and in desperate need of repair. Even though he was no doctor, he’d learned to become one.
When Hokuto was through with Jesse, he was bandaged up and tucked into bed with clean clothes. Hokuto’s bed, and the man himself curled up beside Jesse. He was unsure if Jesse could wake up that night given his feverish state, but eventually his heavy eyelids blinked open no less.
Jesse let out a pained exhale, interrupted by a hiss when he tried to get up.
Hokuto woke up to the noise and smiled at him, “Good morning?” His smile should have been welcoming, delightful even, but Jesse only closes his eyes tightly again to keep the room from spinning.
“Why didn’t you wake me up?”
“Well, it’s 4 a.m for starters.” But before Hokuto could continue, Jesse cut it short.
“Don’t tell anyone about this.”
Hokuto paused. Then sighed, small and brief. “When do I ever…”
He passed Jesse a glass of water and two pills. His cold response to waking up in Hokuto’s bed likely meant Jesse would be resistant to him touching his forehead to see if the fever really broke.
“At least stay until sunrise, hm?”
Jesse nodded, defeated. Hokuto moved closer, and Jesse made an exception and pulled Hokuto into his embrace. He was freezing despite the pain on his skin and the angry bullet wound. Hokuto’s body heat warmed him up, and he was happy to be of service.
When it was obvious that Jesse couldn’t fall asleep, Hokuto opened his eyes. He was stuck staring at Jesse’s neck, glistening with sweat. He was almost certain Jesse would deflect, but he asked anyway.
“Do you want to talk about it…you were shot in the back.”
Ambushed by someone familiar. Someone Jesse trusted. Hokuto imagined it was deeper than a drug deal gone wrong.
“No.” Jesse replied firmly.
Hokuto replied with his own silence, but he saw Jesse shake. He felt it, and he hated himself for pushing, but he wanted to know.
“A ghost of your past?”
“Hokuto.” Jesse sternly said. Paused, and then softened.
“Yes. He has every reason to hate me, to hurt me…even to kill me.” Jesse admitted softly. Against every instinct before curling in on himself.
Hokuto slid back so he could see Jesse’s face. There were tears in his eyes. Broken fragments of the man he always was. There was fear, mixed between the agony and nostalgia.
He could see the way he refused the tears from falling, puddling up until they overflowed. His hand reached out and patted the back of Jesse’s head, “You’re safe with me.”
Nobody saw this side of Jesse, Hokuto always told himself.
Jesse looked down in shame before looking up at Hokuto, meeting him in the eye, before his gaze wandered down to his lips. Jesse blinked hard — the feeling rising in his chest was too big, too raw, too close to something like being seen. His body chose the escape route it always knew.
“I need something else from you, Hokuto” His name on Jesse’s lips were always so seductive. Dangerous, because he’d give into anything.
His lips that said words that were always too kind to Jesse, he found them and shut them up, kissing them until soft moans escaped his lips. And Jesse would trail kisses from his ear, down his neck, bruising marks that were both intimate and scared. His hand ran up Hokuto’s shirt before down his pants, stroking and teasing as Hokuto forgot entirely what he asked Jesse moments before. Yet as much as he wanted Jesse, he knew Jesse was in no state today.
“Not today, Jes.”
Jesse stopped altogether, his thumb wiping away the corner of Hokuto’s lips.
“That’s disappointing.”
His voice grew cold, the vulnerability gone, but Hokuto smiled back courteously anyway.
If Jesse was capable of leaving the bed at this moment, he would have.
Hokuto was sure of it.
*
*
*
Juri vaguely remembered stumbling into a nightclub, fragments of memory dragged through time only in between the moments he was stuck rewinding the trigger pull. Was he right to do that? Did it matter?
The strobe lights stung in his eyes, yet between every flash was a rotation of images. Even when he closed his eyes, the strobe illuminated the back of his eyelids like firelights – of the same rotation of images.
Of Jesse. Of Masaya. Of the blood on his hand. Of the fire that swallowed him.
The bass thudded throughout the bar like a second heartbeat he didn’t want.
He took the small shot glass in his hand filled to the brim with a clear liquid and washed it down, willing the burn to drown out his confliction. Juri was surrounded by people, bliss in the foggy bar air, yet he’d never felt more alone. He washed another shot down. What did he expect?
The hole in his heart only reminded him that being alone was his only ever option.
Because who did he want…if not Jesse?
His shoulder dropped, the tension fading, slouched onto the countertop. Juri laid on his arm on the countertop, sliding the empty shot glass back and forth. His ear pressed against his arm, the music muffled and he realized this pain was never going to be temporary. It was the only way it could have ended. For him, at least.
He was so sure of it.
Juri threw back a few more shots and waited for the oblivion to come, but nothing stirred. His insides were too empty, not bruised but rotten beyond function. The alcohol burned, but he couldn’t tell if it hurted or helped. The next shot came like clockwork, hellbent on drinking himself to death, and Juri swished around the liquid for a moment before a hand reached over. It took the small glass and replaced it with a larger one of a bright green liquid, salt-rimmed, lime to top.
Juri looked up. A man slid into the seat beside him, smiling holding up a glass of the same color.
“Night is too short to waste it pounding shots.”
He took a sip of the cocktail, gesturing to Juri to do the same.
“It’s a margarita.”
He added.
“Come on. Please?”
But the heartbroken man only pushed the glass away, threw back his shot and stumbled out of his seat walking straight for the bathroom. The stranger chased after him immediately, stopping him in his tracks. He stopped in front of Juri, and when they were toe to toe, Juri finally got a look at the stranger.
He was very much a beautiful man.
“Hey pretty boy.” He pointed, as though it wasn’t obvious he was referring to the man clear in his path, “Get out of my way.”
Kyomoto Taiga smiled, confident but sheepish. A wolf cloaked in lamb skin. “A drink for your story. That’s all I want. Please? You looked so sad.”
As if sadness was something Taiga could smell on people.
“I don’t need your pity.” Juri’s shoulder clipped Taiga’s chest, harder than intended. But Taiga’s hand curled around Juri’s waist smoothly, too smoothly.
“Not pity. Just company.” He pulled Juri back, and it was hard to resist falling into the arms of a man this persistent and gorgeous, “Then you can go back to pounding shots. I’m just a sucker for a good story. And you look like you want to talk.”
Kyomoto Taiga had an eye for spotting men like Juri and an affinity for collecting broken toys.
Tanaka Juri argued, but Kyomoto Taiga only kissed him. Juri resisted, but Taiga only held down his wrists until his legs grew weak.
“You’re doing so well.” His breath warm on Juri’s ear. The affirmation he ached to hear.
The margarita was sweet, the salt stinging where his lips were busted from Jesse’s bite and the tequila left him dizzy, the strobe lights moved in slow motion frames. He couldn’t remember if he did much talking, but instead maybe he had another shot before the beautiful man’s lips were on his again in the bathroom corridor. His hips buckled when a kiss bloomed on his neck, the man held Juri up by the waist. The neon lights painted his dark hair drunkenly similar to Jesse’s. Juri closed his eyes and offered himself up, his long eyelashes luring Taiga in to claim this broken toy to his collection.
“What’s your name, love?” Taiga whispered next to his ear before biting it, fingers tracing his back with his nails.
“Juri.”
“Pretty name.”
Whether it was the sickeningly sweet margarita or the pleasure overtaking every nerve end, Juri finally started forgetting. The sweet bliss of nothing. The bar became a distant echo in the background, and when he pulled back into focus, he was falling into a plush bed, lips crashing onto his and a tablet slipped down his throat.
Juri swallowed it and blinked at Taiga sluggishly, a smile gradually replacing the dull pain that never stopped.
“Don’t worry. Now you can be anyone you want.”
Taiga smiled, his hand caressing the face under him. Gentle, kind, gracious. Juri let out a soft moan. He swung his arm around Taiga’s neck, comfortably on the bed and pulled Taiga down. There was very little he wouldn’t do right now, and maybe this was a night he wouldn’t remember – but Juri couldn’t remember ever feeling better in his life. The high gave him all the white noise he never knew he needed. Being himself was so exhausting. And forgetting was easier when he wasn’t himself.
Juri kissed the man that had him caged down on the bed. He gave him every ounce of himself, stripping the both of them down to nothing. Stroking, swallowing, gasping for more. He couldn’t remember how much time passed before Taiga continued kissing him – trailing down his neck. Juri threw his head back, but Taiga only locked his neck with his arm. He remembered everything turning black for a moment, before oxygen rushed back into his lungs and a loud moan escaped his lips, his erection growing between Taiga’s slender fingers. His insatiable desire for this unprecedented drunkenness, for the beautiful stranger. For the bliss he was fed from lip to lip. Until every drip grew hot into a craving for more.
“Come for me.” The words gave him permission. And Juri instantly came.
“Good boy.” Taiga bit his ear as he slid it all in, thrusting a few times to hear Juri scream. He smirked and then folded him against the tall bed, pushing his face into the mattress while he picked up the speed. Juri’s muffled moans wet the sheets under him, and that only made Taiga more excited. His lips gently kissed Juri’s backside, the sudden sensation made him fold backward and Taiga wanted to see his expression badly.
When he pulled out, he dragged Juri onto the floor.
“Kneel.” Taiga said, soft but firm. He didn’t need to command. Juri fell onto his knees. His face flushed pink, jaw slack, he had his mouth wide open.
“Please…” Juri begged, then under his breath, “Fuck…” He throbbed for it. That was freedom. Never so close that he could touch it. Maybe even dream to hold it.
Kyomoto Taiga patted him on the head with a smirk and gave it to him, satisfied with a face full of cum.
*
*
*
When Jesse woke up again, the pain was sharper at his side but his mind was less foggy. Hokuto was missing by his side, and he wondered if he was too harsh earlier. He was halfway dressed with the clean clothes Hokuto prepared by the time he pushed through the door with breakfast.
“You’re up.” He set down a plate he fixed.
Jesse glanced at the breakfast then back at Hokuto, “You already ate?”
Hokuto smiled, nodded. He hadn’t been able to go back to sleep, but he spared Jesse the details.
He walked over to Jesse, “Here, let me help you with that.” He saw Jesse struggling with matching the bottom two buttons on his dress shirt.
When he closed the distance and looked down to help him get dressed, Jesse froze in place. Hokuto’s touch never changed no matter how Jesse treated him. He was warm, inviting, and his hair always smelled like lavender and vanilla. He was so nice. He was always so nice.
“Why do you do this?”
Hokuto’s hand stopped, but he hadn’t moved.
“Do what?”
“Let me treat you like this.” His voice raspy, throat dry from the feverish night he had.
“That’s none of your business.”
Hokuto looked up, stood straight and a soft kiss landed on Jesse’s lips. He didn’t have any words that would suffice. Not any that Jesse would accept.
“You mean well.”
“You deserve better.”
“I can fix you.”
Hokuto knew better. Jesse would only push him further, so Hokuto gave him the only thing he knew to want and accept. Even if in the end, it’ll only crush them both.
Jesse’s hand cupped Hokuto’s face and kissed him again. He deepened the kiss, but it lost the rough edge it normally did. Jesse’s kiss was gentle, tender, and he didn’t force Hokuto into pleasure through overstimulating all the places he knew too well. Maybe it was guilt. Or maybe words were also insufficient.
Hokuto gave Jesse a gentle push, and he softly leaned back into the sofa cushion. His knees straddled Jesse’s legs, leaning down into the kiss, his hand traveling down his shirt, undoing the buttons they worked so hard on.
“Let me, Jesse.” Hokuto’s hands on Jesse’s waistline, slowly unbuckling until they fell around his ankles. Hokuto kneeled down in front of him.
Matsumura Hokuto was weak to Jesse’s tender kisses. Because more than the rough nights of even the best orgasms he’s ever achieved, Hokuto wanted Jesse's touch when it felt delicate. Real. Warm. Human.
Jesse only ever wanted so little, and Hokuto wanted to give it to him.
Between every moan and gasp, there were moments Jesse muttered his name with desire.
Hokuto thought as he neatly swallowed everything Jesse gave him.
And that was close enough to love.
By the time Taiga stumbled into work, there was already tension in the air. A meeting in Jesse’s office. He pushed into the room without even a knock, and the two men standing pin straight in front of Jesse both turned their heads at the same time. Taiga glanced over at Jesse, who looked both stressed and pale, bags under his eyes more present than the last he saw him.
“Good morning?” He fell into the couch across Jesse’s desk, eyebrows raised in silence.
“What happened? Who died?” Taiga looked at Jesse, but he averted his eyes.
“You should ask yourself that.” One of the men spoke up, voice clearly on edge.
“Not this fucking game…” Taiga muttered under his breath, “What now?” His voice annoyed.
This time, Jesse spoke up. His voice stern, “You didn’t show for the handoff last night?”
He needed to hear it directly from Taiga and really hoped he would give a good explanation. He had enough on his plate as is.
“Um, something came up.” He admitted, hardly apologetic. Jesse crossed the room to Taiga, who only looked up at him with an innocent yet arrogant gaze, taunting him to punish him.
“Something came up?” Jesse’s voice growled, “I would’ve sent one of these guys if I wanted a useless fucker to do the handoff.”
Taiga sighed, “I’m sorry.”
“That’s it?” The underling who stood behind Jesse piped up, dissatisfied at the slack Jesse was cutting Taiga.
But Jesse’s sharp eyes put him back in place. He slinked back down, head lowered, “Sorry, sir.”
“Kyomoto.”
Taiga stood begrudgingly, a whole head shorter than Jesse, but not any bit frightened by the kingpin before him.
“Yes.”
“This is coming out of your salary.”
“Yes.”
Jesse let a soft exhale escape at the situation considered handled. He hated the disciplinary part of the job, especially when it came to Taiga. He never did as he was told, and Jesse was always left with the tough calls.
He turned to the two men, “I’ll handle it. You two get out of here.”
One man bit back the words that nearly slipped. The other one held him back and pushed him out. Jesse didn’t even need to hear the words to know.
Kyomoto Taiga always got off easy.
He knew. The wild dog Jesse Lewis couldn’t seem to keep on leash.
Once the room was just the two of them, the tension broke and Jesse felt his shoulders drop as he turned to Taiga.
He smiled, like a completely different person. “Where’d you go last night?”
But Taiga hadn’t planned to answer Jesse’s question. He would rather talk about Jesse’s disciplinary action for him; he stepped forward and Jesse flinched backwards, tripping onto the couch. A sharp exhale and Taiga climbed on top, knees on both sides of him.
“How do you plan to handle it?” Taiga’s words were taunting. He sounded angry. Jesse thought.
He sighed, “Like I always do.” Work was different. He couldn’t always have his way. Taiga knew that.
His knees clamped together, pressing on both sides of Jesse, triggering an involuntary wince from him. His brows pushed together for a brief moment as a sharp pain shot up his spine.
Taiga looked down suspiciously. He ran his hand down Jesse’s chest until he felt a bump on the side. He pulled the corner of the tucked shirt until it fell out, lifting the fabric to find a bandage around his waist. Taiga’s hand followed it to the back and a gray cast washed over Jesse’s face.
Taiga’s finger traced the wound, captivated by it.
“Who did this?”
Jesse knew what he meant. Not the bullet.
“Hokuto.”
The bandage.
Taiga stilled, only his eyes fixed widely on the bandage that ran along his waistline. Jesse felt himself shrink, feeling exposed with shame under Taiga. He removed his glasses, and they hung loose in his hand while he waited for Taiga’s reaction to ferment. It would come. It always did.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice changed. Curiosity replaced by a blade.
He didn’t have an answer. The man on top finally peeled his eyes away from the clean bandaging. It was hard to decipher Taiga’s emotion, but it didn’t matter. The sinking feeling in Jesse’s heart squeezed him all the same.
“I’m sorry.” His apology was met with a heavy slash across his face. It burned on his skin, the taste of iron in his mouth.
He bit his lip, “I’m sorry.” Jesse repeated, this time even quieter. He couldn’t look at Taiga in all the shame he felt, not even stopping once to ask himself what was so criminal about saving himself.
Jesse knew, though. Taiga would rather he break than let another man touch him. Jesse had promised him that much when he pulled him out of the fire. The blonde boy who was passed around by twisted adults like a joint, admired like an exotic animal. He’d much rather give his loyalty to Kyomoto Taiga, and Taiga alone. At least Taiga cherished him.
The silence in the room was replaced by the crackling of the air conditioning, kicking on and raising goosebumps along his skin. It chilled the skin on his face that burned, but did nothing for the guilt he felt.
Then, Taiga finally climbed off Jesse. He slid onto the floor, moving close to Jesse’s face. His fingertips touched Jesse’s face and he flinched away in reflex. He stroked the redness from where his hand slammed across his face. Jesse was quiet, face turned to bury himself against the couch.
Taiga rested his head along Jesse’s torso, his hand now on Jesse’s backside. His entire palm soothing down his back, barely along the surface, but only Taiga knew. The scars were large enough, splattered on his back like abstract art. Burn marks. Like the flames themselves never quite extinguished. Never died.
“Must have hurt…” Taiga’s voice was barely above a whisper, “Rained yesterday.”
“Did it ache?” He asked with no answer.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” Taiga continued.
Jesse slowly turned, but Taiga stopped him.
“It’s okay. You’re here now.” Jesse said quietly, “I’m sorry I went to Hokuto. It’s my fault.”
Taiga left a kiss on his backside. Nothing ever hurt so much that Taiga’s touch couldn’t fix it.
Maybe Jesse was only ever Taiga’s favorite toy, but if the lie was good enough – Jesse could convince himself Taiga loved him.
*
*
*
The afternoon sun broke through the crack in the shades and punished Tanaka Juri with a splitting headache that pulsed behind his eyes. He rolled onto his back and only then noticed he was completely undressed. His body ached in places he hadn’t touched in years—but the ache felt good. Too good. The bed was warm, soft, and indulgent.
Juri smiled. A small, stupid, peaceful smile. It horrified him how natural it felt.
The memories came in stuttering fragments when he tried to chase the night before.
Wet clothes sticking to his skin.
The sharp neon strobe.
The heavy bass thrumming like a second heartbeat.
The margarita.
The beautiful stranger.
Juri crawled out of bed, sheets tucked around his waist. He looked in the mirror and the reflection that stared back at him reminded him of the night. Before the stranger. Before alcohol.
The blood that ran in the rain, flowing toward him. The kiss he shared with Jesse.
The one that tasted like cigarettes and sorrow. He clutched the edge of the nightstand for balance. Something rolled off and hit the floor with a soft plastic clatter. A neon orange pill bottle. One that didn’t belong to him. One that was too empty.
His stomach hollowed.
The label was half-peeled, smeared from sweat and rain. But someone had scratched messy letters over the pharmacy print—careless, confident, almost playful.
Kyomoto Taiga
081 1203 0615
Call me ;)
Juri stared.
His lips tasted like salt. Like tequila. Like someone else’s mouth.
“Fuck,” Juri whispered.
It wasn’t even a word. Just breath collapsing in on itself.
His knees gave out before he could stop them. The bottle slipped from his fingers and tapped once against the floor, coming to rest at his heel like a loyal dog.
He didn’t touch it – he just stared.
His neon fever dream came with a heavy price tag. The man he loved most in this world—the boy he’d held as Masaya, the man he’d pulled a trigger on—bled into the rain at his feet. And the next man he swore to hate had slipped something down his throat, kissed him breathless, taken what was left of him, and left his phone number behind like a party favor.
Juri never had a choice.
Just illusions of freedom, packaged beautifully, swallowed blindly.
Juri had a brother. A really long time ago.
Jesse Lewis lived so many lives since that he nearly had forgotten. But how could he ever forget?
The light peeked from a sliver between an irregular crack in the lopsided door. Jesse pushed the long coats out of the way, his small body slotted between a large cardboard box and a briefcase inside the small dark space that smelled like moth balls and sweat. His bare legs close to his chest, the skin of his back against the closet’s wall. Juri always told him to count to a hundred and it would be over. Jesse knew – that was a lie. But if he counted slowly enough, maybe it didn’t have to be a lie.
70…71…72…
He closed his eyes for a second, stalling his own counter. When he opened his eyes, he spotted a shadow approaching the door. Footsteps were light, quiet – not Fat Tony – and he jumped when the door cracked open.
“Come on.” The voice was soft, not much louder than a whisper.
He crouched down to Jesse’s level and ushered him out of the closet, his head turning to make sure nobody else was around. The man smiled, pulling a t-shirt over Jesse’s head. Jesse wanted to speak, but he only stared. Tanaka Koki had dark hair, long and unnaturally black, piercings decorated his ears and tattoos peeked from the ends of his rolled up sleeves. The corner of his eyes folded when he smiled. Even though he should have been scary like other adults, Koki wasn’t. He didn’t wear a suit and he always smiled at Jesse.
“You’re okay.” Koki ruffled Jesse’s hair, the dark ashy copper he was born with.
“Go on, Juri’s waiting.” He assured it was okay for him to leave, but Jesse stood at eye level with the man crouched down. He wanted to give the man a hug. Something to say he was thankful that he always cracked the door open. But Jesse looked down, pursed his lips and ran off.
He stopped and looked back once he reached the office door, but Koki gestured to him silently with his hand to hurry.
Jesse scurried down the steps as quickly as his legs would take him, praying to not run into anyone on his way out. Once he hit the street, he sprinted down the block. The sunset was a bright orange making his eyes squint, but by the time he turned the corner down the small alleyway shortcut and into the basement where they lived, the sun had fallen past the horizon. In what remained of daylight, Jesse saw a familiar silhouette sitting on the floor in the corner.
“Juri?” His small voice called out, only to be responded with the clatter of chains.
He scurried towards Juri. His ankle was tethered to a chain against the wall. He stood and ran towards Jesse in excitement, but fell over once he reached the limits of the chain. The younger boy crouched down to untie the dirty cloth fastened around Juri’s mouth.
“What’d you do?” Jesse asked with a sigh too mature for his age once he realized Juri was being punished.
Juri spat onto the floor a few times before angrily piping up, “I called him a liar.”
“Tony?” Jesse asked, eyes wide.
Juri nodded, still tugging at the chain, as if his strength would be enough to break him out.
“He called me to his office today.” Jesse admitted, biting the inside of his mouth. Shame before he even learned that word in the eight years of his life.
Juri knew what that meant. He lifted Jesse’s shirt, eyes scanning him for bruises.
Jesse smiled, innocently unaware, “It was just watching today.”
“Who let you out?”
Jesse’s smile changed, beaming with a glow, “Koki-nii.”
Juri’s expression lit up from the sound of the name, pushing closer to the younger boy, “You saw him today?”
He couldn’t remember the last time his brother had time to stop by. Juri didn’t know what Koki did most days, but whenever he did stop by, he always brought something – a juice box, a comic book, anything – Juri collected it all. He never wanted to throw them away. Maybe because he had nothing else to hold onto. And Juri wouldn’t understand until he was much older that Koki always intended it to be that way. That his life should burn out as insignificant as it was lived.
Jesse walked over to the table on the opposite end of the basement and picked up the singular juice box and sandwich. He brought it over to Juri, sat beside him and handed him half of the sandwich.
“There was only one.” He said, and Juri knew it was punishment. But Jesse always offered him his half.
He looked at Jesse and pushed his hand away, “That’s yours.”
“If you don’t eat, I’m going to grow taller than you.”
His threat to outgrow Juri was met with a chuckle, and Juri took the sandwich out of his hand, “Never. I’m older. I will always be taller.”
Ignoring his statement, Jesse continued, “Koki-nii is so cool. He’s strong.”
He passed his juice box to Juri after taking a sip, “And brave. Like you.”
“He’s different.” Jesse looked into the distance in admiration, “He knows things.”
Juri’s eyes that glowed with admiration for his older brother dimmed in thought, the plastic wrapper of the sandwich crinkling in his small hands, “I miss Koki.” He muttered under his breath, almost wishing for Tony’s closet just so he could see his brother. Koki always got the door for them.
That night, Jesse dragged his blanket from their bed to the basement corner with Juri. The cement floor was hard, cold and cob webs were directly overhead. But Jesse spread the blanket on the floor and wrapped themselves up with the other half. He snuggled close to Juri on the floor just as they did on the twin size bed. He couldn’t let Juri be alone.
Weeks passed. Then months. And the comics stopped appearing.
There was very little in their lives that remained good.
*
*
*
Juri dropped off everything he collected for the day at the office and left wondering where they sent Jesse. When the kids asked him if he wanted to hop across town to see the Christmas tree lighting by the pier, Juri told them to go on without him. They told him there would be free stuff to take home, but Juri only said he had plans.
The sunset was early in the winter, and despite the vivid orange it casted in the evening sky, the thin layer of frost on the windows reminded Juri that it was the season he always hated the most. He pulled the ends of his stretched out sleeves to cover his fingers, clinging onto a dainty white box with a red bow that he tucked into his thin jacket. Juri smiled despite the wind cutting into his face. He imagined Jesse’s eyes lighting up at the sight of the shortcake while trying to figure out the occasion.
But there was no occasion. Juri just wanted to see him happy.
He carefully slid the cake into the fridge after a quick rinse of a shower to preserve the rest of the hot water, humming as he dried his hair. The normally silent basement was replaced with the rattling of the panels outside as the wind picked up and dropped off. Juri squatted in the corner where his phone was charging reading manga on pirated wifi, and every time the house creaked he thought Jesse was home.
*
*
*
Jesse stepped out of a limousine, but when his foot landed on the frozen pavement, he didn’t feel like he was home. The pavement felt like the plush carpet from the mansion that always felt like it would open up and swallow him. The night air stung when the wind picked up, funneling in through the holes in his shirt – torn from the job. He pulled the jacket sleeve back several times before his fingers peeked out. Jesse looked down at himself, cracking a broken smirk. He looked so silly. The suit jacket fell just above his knees, the lapel exposing nearly half of his chest from how oversized it was. Jesse touched the fabric, wondering how it kept him so warm.
The streets were empty, but they were always empty this time of the night around there because it was dark. People didn’t want to cross these blocks at night, but Jesse knew this was his way home. There was one flickering streetlight at the street corner he arrived at, and that was when he saw the snowflakes fluttering down. A snowflake landed on his fingertip when he reached his hand out, and he put it in his mouth to taste it. Bland. Bitter. Wrong. Maybe the snowflake just tasted bad. Maybe his mouth still tasted bitter from the last he had to open it. Maybe it was just the taste of iron from his own blood.
The snow spilled thick and fast, covering the small roads with a sheet of white. Jesse froze in his tracks, watching the coverage fall into place. His next steps are careful, precise to leave clean footprints while imagining what an empty field of snow must look like. How beautiful that must look.
Instead he walks into an empty parking lot, crisp and white except for his footsteps. Jesse lays down, and the snow tickles him with its frozen touch. He opens his mouth to taste the flakes again, alas it still tastes the same. Jesse smiles, his face rigid from the cold. He practices the smile. He knows he will do it for Juri when he gets home.
The snow melts onto his skin and the wool of the jacket, absorbing it into the fabric. But he lays there long enough that a light dusting crusts on his silhouette and the ice under his back numbs the ache in his bones. Jesse doesn’t remember the walk home, but he remembers making a note to wash the jacket so they could take it to the pawn shop the next morning.
Juri wakes up from a dry throat with his mouth hanging open, not knowing that he ever fell asleep. He quickly forgets that when he hears footsteps and springs to the doorway, knowing that Jesse was finally back. But Jesse didn’t return home the way he left. His golden blonde hair was disheveled, draped with an ill-fitted suit jacket several sizes too large.
“Did I wake you?” His smile broke Juri out of his thoughts, and he shook his head.
“Look what they gave me.” His voice raised slightly, still raspy, a brightness that Juri knew was so close to excitement, but feigned. His eyes betrayed him. The corners of his mouth betrayed him.
But Juri chose to let Jesse believe he was a decent liar.
“Is that wool?” Juri slid his hand across the fabric, opening the jacket to feel the inside but his heart dropped when the ripped shirt peeked from underneath instead. His delayed pause gave away his intention, eyes drifting upwards to meet Jesse’s – they looked terrified to give him permission. His heart sank deeper.
He gently pried open the oversized jacket, careful to not let it fall to the floor, and raised Jesse’s shirt, a little at a time. Discoloration that was subtle in the dimly lit basement, but he knew the fluorescent light of the bathroom would give it all away. But Juri didn’t want to see. He didn’t want to unravel Jesse because he wasn’t sure he’d know how to put him back together.
Instead he sent Jesse to the bathroom alone.
“Saved some hot water for you.”
“Thanks.”
That night, the twin sized bed felt smaller than usual when they laid back to back. When Jesse emerged from the shower, Juri was already curled up against the wall. The room darkened by the snow piled up against their only small window, yet in that dark silence somehow Jesse felt safer.
“Roppongi.” His voice muffled against his blanket pulled up over half of his face.
“It was a mansion in Roppongi.” Jesse continued softly. Juri didn’t make a noise, but he knew Juri was listening.
“It smelled like leather.” The silence was loud, “Like the belt.”
The bed’s creaking filled the space between the cold concrete walls. Juri slowly turned, his hand finding its way inside Jesse’s blanket. The city was frozen, but Jesse tucked himself into bed without a shirt on. The fabric stung against his skin. The raised ridges on his back, pink even in the dim light. And that wasn’t even the wound that hurt the most.
His fingertips touch the skin, slightly, then again. Finally Jesse turned, ducking into Juri’s embrace. The refrigerator breaks the silence, rattling to life in its decrepit old age. Juri doesn’t know how to bring up the cake, just like how Jesse never knew how to bring up what happened that night.
The first snow of the year Jesse was twelve was unforgettable and unforgiving.
And Jesse hated snow since that day.
*
*
*
“I have a favor to ask.”
Juri passed his envelope to Yugo to lock up in the drop box after their shifts, his expression both awkward and embarrassed.
“What? What’s with the face?” Yugo smiled, wide with creasing eyes, the kind that usually broke any tension and bad blood. He smacked Juri on the arm lightly, and the two boys left the office for the evening, Juri rushing ahead of Yugo despite being the one who asked for a favor.
Yugo catches up to Juri, “Why are you acting so weird?”
The sky had already set into darkness as the two boys walked down the street, the windows still covered with a light dusting of snow from earlier that evening. White puffs escaped between Juri’s lips as he muttered for the older boy to just come along. Soon they arrive at the convenience store around the corner, and Yugo tails Juri as he weaves through the aisle to the back, grabs a popsicle out of the freezer and pays for it.
“You’re joking right?” Yugo rubs his hands together as they idle in front of the store, but Juri only sets the popsicle down on the ground next to him as he sits on the curb.
“Come on. I told you I need your help” Juri looked up at the other boy, eyes too serious.
Yugo sits close to Juri on the curb, curious, “Spill it already.”
“Will you take my first time?”
Yugo’s eyes widened. And he couldn’t even look in Juri’s direction after that.
“That…first time?” He stutters back, half-hoping Juri meant something else entirely.
But Juri looked serious as ever, face red from the frigid winter but also maybe from embarrassment.
“You haven’t done it yet either, right?”
“N-no…” Yugo replied, face growing warm from the sudden change in conversation. He knew it was going to happen sooner than later, especially given that he was older than both Juri and Jesse. But it was always an open secret none of the boys wanted to talk about.
Then there was Juri, ripping off the bandaid to face the inevitable. He was so brave, and Yugo always knew Juri was the one who gave him hope that they’d grow old enough some day to stand up to all of this.
“So should we…” Juri continued, but paused when Yugo looked over at him and met his eyes.
“I don’t want it to be one of Tony’s friends.” Juri finally said. And before he could continue his sentence, Yugo nodded an agreement.
Juri dug two small plastic bottles from his pocket, handing one to Yugo, “It’s a promise then.”
Yugo held back an incredulous smile at the formality of it all, “What is this?”
“Vodka.” He twisted the cap, breaking the seal, and waited for Yugo. The two boys coughed through the shoplifted shot of vodka and mirrored each other’s soured expressions at the bitter taste of liquor.
After Juri made Yugo seal the promise with the liquor, Yugo tossed both bottles and grabbed Juri’s hand, as if the liquor acted this fast in the form of liquid courage.
“What the hell?” He allowed himself to be dragged away from Yugo, but unsure what Yugo intended until they reached the back alley. The crisp winter air smelled like sewage and rotten vegetables, but Yugo only stood there silently breathing in the stench.
“What better time than now?”
He took a step toward Juri, until they were toe to toe. Same height, equally nervous.
“Okay.”
Yugo clumsily ripped off his own hood, with way more force than necessary to prove his determination. Not to anyone but himself, and he leaned in. A soft kiss landed on Juri’s lip and stayed there. The two boys stood still until Yugo pulled away. Juri never imagined lips to feel like that, and he didn’t hate it. He leaned in this time and kissed Yugo back. He gave it a nibble, tilted his head and savored it a little bit more. Yugo learned fast, he reciprocated the same movement, and the back and forth soon had Juri backed into the greasy walls that never saw the light of day.
Just the kiss alone gave them the push they needed, and they pulled back to catch their breaths as though they just sprinted around the block ten times.
“My heart is exploding.” Juri confessed in a quiet whisper, with Yugo still inches from his face.
Yugo swallowed, “I feel it…” His breath formed white puffs in the air and despite the sharp winter air, he felt unnaturally flustered at his bodily reaction to the kiss.
This time Juri took the lead, pulling them into a storage room that was unlocked. They propped the door open just enough to not get locked in, a sliver of light pushing through as the boys removed their tops. They kneeled on the tiled floor across from each other. Both of them realized the darkness was particularly conducive for hiding their embarrassment, but difficult to see as they rock-paper-scissor’d to figure out who did what. They took turns once the pants were removed, stifling their pleasures unnaturally out of pure innocence, the room warming up even without a heater.
Their minds blanked out in-between, and Juri thought about Jesse when it was Yugo’s turn, aching at the thought of one of Tony’s friends being the one who damaged him. He couldn’t be the one to protect him, to even offer him the choice of something else.
In the end, when Juri tried to pull out it all came too quickly and he failed to time it correctly.
“Oh shit — I didn’t mean to…”
Before Juri could finish his apology, Yugo laughed, almost a giggle, to lighten the mood. He tore into some cardboard stashed in the corner and wiped up the small puddle on the floor, and he kissed Juri again. Without talking about it, they unanimously agreed that they enjoyed kissing. So they continued. Relentlessly. Until Yugo finished and the same piece of cardboard was used to mop up his puddle.
When all the lust passed, Yugo offered Juri a crumpled up cigarette. He taught Juri how to hold it, to put it to his lips and blow out the smoke without letting it pass through his lungs.
“Wish we timed this for New Year’s eve.” Yugo suddenly spoke up between the smoke they shared.
“Why? We can always do it again.” Juri replied, his eyes shut as he exhaled the tobacco smoke.
Yugo looked down, smiled, and Juri didn’t see.
Yugo almost hoped it would happen again with Juri. And only with Juri.
“You’re right, I guess.”
*
*
*
When Jesse wasn’t called by one of the adults to work a job, he’d spend afternoons sitting on the floor of the convenience store flipping through magazines. The owner didn’t like the look of children loitering in the store, but the part-timers always felt sorry enough for them that they’d let them take the magazines to the backroom to read when the owner wasn’t around.
Jesse sat on a milk crate reading a travel magazine, dazzled by the nice pictures of onsens, imagining what they must feel and smell like. He’d take the little pencil he stole from the casino floor and copy down all the sentences he wanted to learn to read.
His face brightened at the page with a bike on it. It was red, shiny, and he wished he could show Yugo – but instead he copied down the text around it, returned the magazine to the rack, and ran off to find the older boy.
There was no real reason Jesse should be able to find Yugo easily, but if he ran around the blocks a few times he’d be sure to run into him.
Yugo had been leaving Tony’s office with a small parcel that jingled when he shook it. He’d been asked to take it to the boat factory by the pier when Jesse waved at him from across the street.
“Woah. Slow down.” Yugo pulled Jesse to the side so Tony’s guys didn’t see them slacking off. They turned the corner and once they were out of sight, they found the small park tucked between a bakery and an old apartment building.
“What are you doing today?” Jesse asked Yugo, eyes wandering to the parcel he held on his lap.
“Taking this to Ken-san.” He replied, then directed the same question back to the younger boy who looked way too excited to see him. “Whatchu got?”
Jesse pulled out a folded up piece of paper from his pocket and showed Yugo, and he immediately laughed at Jesse for his crooked strokes and uneven kanji characters.
“Your handwriting looks nothing like Japanese.”
“Shut up.” He shot back. “I copied this down from a page with the coolest bike. But I can’t read it.”
He scooted closer to Yugo, “Thought I’d ask the smartest boy I know.”
“Where’s Juri?”
“Work. He’s at the casino today.”
“Figures.” Yugo knew Jesse would always run to Juri first, not that he didn’t welcome Jesse’s company, but the two were joint at the hip.
“Ku…ru…ma…” Yugo sounded out for Jesse, the kanji for “cars” while pointing to the character bloated with strokes.
Jesse looked on in awe as Yugo awkwardly sounded out the strange katakana. And even though Yugo skipped the syllables that even he didn’t know, Jesse didn’t have any less admiration for his ability to read the text he copied down. When they finished, Yugo invited Jesse to tag along his trip across town. Maybe they could chase some seagulls by the pier after the delivery.
After Ken-san received his package, he gave the boys some change for their work and Yugo spent all of it buying some melon-flavored milk boxes for them. Jesse never tried it before, and he couldn’t tell if the novelty made it good or if drinking it with Yugo made it cool. The afternoon breeze by the water felt nice on their skin, like spring was around the corner.
Yugo promised to show Jesse the skate park that he just discovered while running one of his routes, but Jesse had to wait until the weather got warmer.
Spring was soon enough, Jesse thought.
*
*
*
Jesse found something weird one morning.
Juri was called away early, at the crack of dawn and since then he’d heard footsteps in the house. Muffled murmurs of adults talking. More footsteps. People shuffled in and out, more than usual. He quickly got dressed and snuck out of the house, watching from around the corner of the office. A fancy car pulled up, suits walked into the office, and different kids were sent in and out in groups. Jesse watched with heavy curiosity and by noon he’d been observing for hours, wondering what this sick feeling was. He’d grown worried for Juri, and that trumped his fear of finding out.
He ran after the group of the kids who were most recently dismissed from the office, trying to play it cool.
“What’s going on today? More suits than usual.” He nudged, but the kids only looked at each other, a sad hesitant look on their faces that didn’t bode well in Jesse’s mind.
“Tony’s looking into something.” One of the kids finally said after an irregular pause.
Then, one of the older kids pushed the younger ones along, ushering them away and said he’d meet up with them later. Jesse looked up at him. He was tall, and he looked like he was at least 14 or 15. His eyes were gentle; they reminded him of Juri’s.
“What’s your name?”
“Masaya.”
The boy smiled, a very faint small one. “That’s nice.” He took a deep breath before he continued, “If you haven’t been called in yet, it’s probably a good thing. Something bad happened.”
Jesse only looked at the boy, unsure what to make of it.
“An accident.” He finally said. “A boy died. I think he was around my age.”
Jesse felt his heart sink, and his eyes must have showed it because the older boy gave him a small squeeze on his arm. He must know something.
“You…might know him.” He’d seen Jesse hanging around the picture of the kid he was shown earlier.
Jesse paused for a long time. It felt like the world stopped with him.
“What was…his…” He never got to finish his sentence. He couldn’t. The words choked in his throat.
“Yugo.”
Juri came home that evening humming a tune, but when he pushed the door open the room was dark. It was late, but not late enough that Jesse was already asleep. He quietly stepped in, running his hand along the walls to find his way to the bed. Sure enough, there was a lump on the bed, and it was shaking.
He dropped everything and gently uncovered the blanket.
“Masaya?”
Jesse curled inwards, tighter – burying his face into the mattress and his hands cupping his head as though the ceiling had just collapsed.
“Masaya. Talk to me. What’s wrong?” Juri grew worried, gently trying to pry Jesse from his own body. He never cried like this, not when he got bullied, not even after that night in Roppongi.
“It’s going to happen to us one day too, right, Juri?” He finally uttered, but his words muffled against the wet bedsheets.
Juri leaned in, smoothing Jesse’s hair. “Nothing bad’s going to happen to you. Not if I can help it.”
Jesse slowly turned, his eyes red and puffy from the crying. He didn’t know what else to do, how else to say it. He threw his arms around the older boy and squeezed as hard as he could.
“Yugo died. They said he died!” The words nearly came out as a scream, and Juri stopped breathing for a few moments, locked and hitched mid-breath.
“...What?”
“I asked everyone. Every single kid who was called into Tony’s office today. Juri, they’re all lying right?” He cried into Juri’s jacket, but Juri couldn’t hear anything. His next breath barely managed to squeeze through his closing throat, and he repeated Jesse’s words in his head over and over. He thought if he beat it into his mind, he’d accept it quicker. Because the quicker he accepted it, the quicker he could comfort the boy who’d entirely unraveled in his arms.
Masaya needed him.
“I’ll go ask tomorrow, okay?” Juri ran his hand down Jesse’s back in long warm strokes. “Nothing bad will happen to you.” He repeated again in a soft whisper, coaxing Jesse to calm down.
They sat like that together for a very long time that night.
Juri tilted his head back from time to time, when he’d realize the room was too dark. The night was moonless. Jesse was facing the other way. Maybe nobody could see. The tears that wouldn’t stop. Like a broken faucet. Juri hated it.
He hated crying in front of Jesse.
But what he hated more was Yugo. Their evening walks. The smokes they shared squatting in the back alley where they shared their first kiss. The lips Juri had only begun to grow fond of.
His smile.
If he didn’t love him, would it hurt less?
Juri would never know.
*
*
*
The days feel short, melting into nights that feel long – as endless as they are hopeless. Juri stares at the gun on his night stand and the bullets scattered around the table, wondering why he had little desire to hold the trigger between his fingers again. He thought he’d steeled his resolve between the four walls in his prison cell, over years that felt like decades.
But now all he could do was remember the night he shot Jesse.
The blood on the asphalt running in the murky rain water, flooding toward him, drowning him.
He fumbled over empty glass bottles as he walked over to the table. Not to pick up the gun, but the trash can. Juri flipped it upside down, the scraps of paper and plastic wrappers floating about until the orange plastic bottle rolled onto the carpet.
Juri sat on the carpet, bottle in hand and his thumb ran over the label so many times it began to smudge. He read the name and number again.
Kyomoto Taiga. No matter how many times he read it.
Juri sighed, burying his face into his knees, agonizing over the joke the universe played on him. It didn’t matter how many times he threw away the bottle. He read the number so many times he’d committed it to his memory already.
Whether it was the four walls of the motel room or the four walls of prison, it was all the same.
Juri realized he had no hope for salvation. He threw the bottle away one more time, landing in the now empty trash and he found his phone buried underneath the rubbish on the floor.
Juri punched the numbers.
Everything happened in the same breath. Then he was in a much fancier hotel lobby. When the automatic door shut behind him, he whipped around guilt heavy on his mind.
Juri felt like someone was watching him. Maybe it was shame afterall.