Kaleidoscope

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 he borrowed, 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. 

*

*

*

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. 

Kyomoto Taiga burst into Jesse’s life like a kaleidoscope, color refracting in every direction—dizzying, but so intoxicating. 

Jesse had little hope of the day turning around by that afternoon. Despite the warm spring air on his skin, he’d already lost a brawl just that morning and knew one of Tony’s muscles with the scary tattoos would be on him about fighting before a client visit. The door jingled as he pushed past it with a soda in one hand and cup of ice in the other. He pressed the ice to his jaw hoping the bruise wouldn’t bloom. 

He turned onto the shortcut on his way home and barely missed a collision with a boy flying through the narrow alley. 

“Sorry!” He yelled, while Jesse froze in place at the commotion, but more curious about this boy he’d never seen before. 

Jesse watched as he scrambled to stack plastic crates together, high enough to hide behind. When he noticed Jesse staring, he only put a finger to his lip and begged Jesse to stay quiet. The yelling got closer and he knew the boy was running from the idiots from the other neighborhood. He continued icing his jaw, but quickly crossed to the other side of the alley in two big steps as the angry men approached, blocking the boy from sight. 

“Where’d that twink go?” One angry man questioned Jesse. 

“Flew past me in a hurry.” Technically not a lie, and Jesse had a few inches on the man, so he only pushed past, mouthing choice profanity. 

Jesse strolled to the end of the alleyway to make sure the man was gone before telling the boy he barely met that he could come out. 

“He’s gone.” Jesse yelled, rather loudly. 

The boy waited a few moments before he peeked head out and saw Jesse leaning against a metal bin, cracking a soda. 

“Thanks.” 

Jesse studied the boy. It only took one word to figure out he wasn’t from this part of town. Jesse stared, almost too much, hoping to come up with something. Maybe it was the way he dressed, or how clean his hands were. He felt different and Jesse didn’t have enough time to name it. 

He wasn’t bothered by Jesse’s staring, even walked up to him to wave a hand in front of him. 

“Hello?” Then he laughed. A small giggle.

It was so full of life. 

“Weirdo.” He muttered, smiling as he walked away from Jesse.

“Wait.” Jesse stopped him, smiled, “Other side.” 

“Hm?” 

“He’ll catch you unless you go the other way.” 

The boy cracked a sheepish smile again. 

“You’re so smart.” 

Jesse blinked. No one had said that to him before. 

*

*

*

Jesse hated afternoon client visits the most. 

The night time visits always ended in bruises, sometimes bleeding but the afternoon ones were always quietly worse. They were never as rich, and he’d be left riding down the elevator alone. The concierge never gave him a second glance; maybe they’d seen too many boys like him. 

The streets were wide and clean. People were quiet, or maybe it just always drowned into the background. 

Afternoon client visits were the worst because then he would see the evening sunset after. How could they take something so beautiful and turn it ugly? 

Maybe he was the ugly one. It never got easier. 

Jesse wandered down the street thoughtlessly. He always thought it was funny how someone like him could get to know the streets of Roppongi. He used to imagine accumulating enough wealth to live in one of these tall glass cans, and Jesse had even forgotten when he stopped paying visits to that dream. 

He approached an intersection as the walk sign flashed red, watching the evening rush weave through the street. The sign lit green, but piano music caught his ear. The green beeping drowned out by nearby piano music and Jesse followed it. He tried to recall if he’d heard this in the past, but that didn’t matter once he found the source. 

The store window was decorated seasonally, blush pink cherry blossoms draped from the ceiling. Petals scattered across the top of the grand piano and perfectly in frame was the same boy from the morning. Jesse took one step closer and stared at the hands that dance across the black and whites – the same clean hands. He smiled, “So that’s what they were meant for.” 

The melody tinkered to a close, and the boy opened his eyes. He caught Jesse’s gaze, surprise flashing in his eyes – not disturbed, pleasant. It startled Jesse; he didn’t know how to hold the gaze. When he looked down and back up, Jesse saw the reflection of himself in the store window. The sunset had fallen off the horizon and against the moonlight, Jesse saw himself in that creased white dress shirt, tie loose around his neck. The bruise that had bloomed across his jawline anyways, and Jesse looked away after that. 

He’d better get out of this part of town. 

Jesse huffed a small scoff as he backed away. A jagged smile that ridiculed him. He passed several store displays before a voice called out to him.

“Wait!” 

He didn’t really want to turn around. 

“You’re the…uh, this morning? Do you remember me?” 

Jesse didn’t know what to feel besides embarrassed, and apologetic.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare. I gotta go.” 

Jesse would never quite find out why the boy tried so hard. 

“I get off work in an hour!” He insisted. 

Jesse turned. The boy smiled at him again. 

“Wait for me.” 

Jesse didn’t know why he felt drawn to listen, but he didn’t go home that evening. He sat on the curb listening to the piano until security chased him away, but he only hid around the corner, taking in the stolen melody. He doesn’t know music, but he knows this shouldn’t belong to him. 

*

*

*

Taiga’s finger glided across the keys, but his eyes wandered up to the clock too many times. The soothing live piano music was supposed to relax the luxury clientele but instead his rhythm picked up, as though speeding through his set could force time to pass faster. 

Taiga sighed and closed his eyes entirely, narrowing his focus on muscle memory carrying the melody. But instead he focused on the boy. The boy who wore an army green jacket with a huge rip at the hem in the morning, the same boy who looked hollow wearing a wrinkly dress shirt and tie. Taiga met his eyes for a split second, and where he expected a quiet courteous nod he only saw fatigue and defeat. Nothing the clientele he played for would know anything about. 

When the hour was finally over, Taiga raced out of the store while pulling on his jacket, to find the curb now empty of the boy. A dull disappointment began to set in until he felt a tap behind his back.

Taiga whipped around, “You’re still here!” He exclaimed, a bit too excited, mostly relieved. 

Jesse almost laughed, “You told me to wait.” 

“Of course, right.” He laughed nervously, “I, uh…I’ll buy you a drink?” Taiga offered.

Jesse nodded and followed behind the boy to the store around the corner. The walk was quiet, neither of them spoke much. 

Jesse waited outside as Taiga ran inside. He sat on the curb waiting for Taiga again, until he handed a soda to him. 

“I’m Taiga. Kyomoto Taiga.” Jesse took the soda from his hand.

“Taiga…” He repeated under his breath, “Masaya. I’m Masaya.” Then he paused, “Just Masaya.” 

Taiga sat down on the curb next to Jesse, “So what were you doing in Roppongi, Just Masaya?” 

Jesse smiled at the tease, Taiga watched him smile, and then he looked away as he cracked too.

“Could ask the same about you. What were you doing that far out of the city?” Jesse cracked the can and took a sip. 

“That obvious, huh?” 

“That you’re not from there? Yeah.” Jesse replied, but before Taiga could say anything else, he continued, “Every time I see you, somehow you’re someone different.” 

Taiga laughed, “You’ve seen me twice, Masaya.” He added the boy’s name. He liked the way it sounded on his tongue. And he liked how easily it came out of his mouth. 

“On the same day.” Jesse noted. 

But Jesse would be a hypocrite. He’d been different since the morning too. The job always left him hollow, and Taiga filled in the outline with color. 

Before Jesse could dwell, Taiga explained.

“I have a wide range of interests that lead to a variety of jobs.” He said, “Like the piano.”

“That’s nice.” 

Taiga looked over. Jesse’s eyes were so warm yet sad. He didn’t know why.

“Well, who do you want to be?” 

Taiga asked, almost too nonchalantly.

“You know that’s up to you, right?” 

Jesse looked up, quiet. The question echoed in his mind for days after that. 

*

*

*

When Jesse dropped by the same store again on whim days later, Taiga was still on display, reciting a playful tune against the spring evening. Taiga asked him for his number that time, and they agreed to meet up over the weekend after Taiga noticed something about the tall boy he just met. 

They met up on a Saturday morning in Ikebukuro and Taiga surprised Jesse with his favorite manga cafe. He picked out the latest volume of his series and watched as Jesse sat beside him browsing the shelves in awe. Taiga enthusiastically shoved his recommendation in Jesse’s hand and smiled widely. Jesse took the cue and flipped through the pages, but before he could be embarrassed by his lack of literacy, Taiga only casually remarked that he could ask if there was anything he didn’t get. 

They spent too many afternoons together over the next few weeks. Taiga cruised through several volumes while Jesse studied each page intently. Taiga snatched glances at his expression once in a while and found Jesse entranced by the worlds he read about. It was pure, in a way that Taiga had never experienced in a friendship. Some nights on his walk home, he felt an unprecedented fear of losing this some day. It was heavy, and felt inevitable in a way that suffocated him. He couldn’t let that happen. 

Jesse was entirely enthralled by Taiga. Whenever he wasn’t working or with Juri, he was hanging out with Taiga. It wasn’t always the manga cafe. Some evenings they sat on the swings in the park, and Jesse couldn’t tell if Taiga simply looked beautiful during golden hour, or he showed him a hope of something he shouldn’t know existed. 

He’d ask Jesse what he would want to do if he had the world at his disposal, and the question alone gave him an anxious excitement. It shouldn’t be this way. Jesse remembered putting that behind him. Time took it away. Yugo took it away. Even Juri stopped wanting to listen to these fantasies. 

When Jesse went home that night, he was halfway down the block when two men popped from the narrow alleyway. They didn’t say anything, but Jesse backed up and turned the other way. Two more men appeared. They closed in on him and cornered him into the alley. 

“Some nerve you got kid.” The man who spoke up was half a head shorter than Jesse, but twice his size with bright yellow hair. 

Jesse backed into the wall, trying his best to diffuse the situation, “Fellas, you have the wrong guy.” He shrugged and threw his hand up in front of his chest to disarm them.

The big man turned and looked at his underling, who piped up, “Aniki, it was him. Skinny blonde kid. Caught him jumping out of the office window and chased him down half a block…”

The man kicked the one who talked first, irritated by his underling’s gross incompetence before turning back to Jesse. 

“If you don’t fess up what you stole, you’re not walking away from here today in one piece.” 

Jesse didn’t think they would track Tony’s afternoon errand back to him this quickly and this time he knew he fucked up. There wasn’t any way he was going to clever his way out or fight his way out. The handful of men searched his person and found exactly what they were after, but didn't leave him alone without a beating. Jesse throws his arms in front of his face, guarding his head and doesn’t fight back. He knew this was the only way men like these lose interest. 

When they finally leave him alone, he sits against the wall, coughing and catching his breath. Jesse recognized that if he didn’t bring Tony what he sent him for, there was a second punishment in store for him. 

*

*

*

It wasn’t unusual for Jesse to return home late, but Juri tossed in bed awake thinking about him anyways. He couldn’t shake a sinking feeling in his stomach thinking about every time over the last week he’d watched Jesse drift away mid-conversation. Juri turned to face the wall, eyes trained on the blank gray wall trying to recall when Jesse began to skip home with a lightheartedness the way he did as of late. It didn’t feel right. This type of happiness simply does not bode well in their lives. 

His thoughts are abruptly cut off by a thump by the front door and then almost equally loud thudding down the steps. Juri quickly rose out of bed, realizing that it couldn’t be Jesse making this ruckus. He grabbed the metal pipe by the door and stood behind it. When it pushed open, he immediately raised his weapon, only to stop mid-air at a cowering Jesse at his sudden attack. 

“Mas–Jesus, are you okay?” He dropped the pipe, hands on Jesse but as soon as his arms touched him, he began to lean his weight onto Juri after limping all the way home. 

He scrunched his face and then exhaled, “Yeah. I’ll be fine…” 

Juri helps him into a chair and turns on the light. He couldn’t say it was the worst he’d seen, but it was quite ugly. Luckily, he managed to avoid bruising his face, but everything else was harder to tell. His shoulder dropped at an unnatural angle and Juri could tell he had been limping. 

Jesse forced a small awkward smile, but Juri’s stern expression hadn’t dropped. He quietly watched as Juri circled behind him and grabbed his arm. He winced, and before he even braced himself, he heard the familiar slosh of his shoulder socket as Juri shoved his shoulder back into place. 

He stifled his scream, but pained tears pooled in its place. Jesse could tell, the older boy seemed angry. And he knew better than to say anything. 

Jesse listened as Juri’s footsteps left and returned with the medical kit in a tin cookie box. Even his footsteps sounded angry. Juri began to swab the cuts with iodine, not nearly as softly as he usually did. Jesse winced, biting his lip but intent on keeping his mouth shut until Juri finally spoke. 

“When are you going to learn?” 

It didn’t matter what Juri said, Jesse just needed to hear him say anything.

“Sorry.” 

“For what?” 

“Messing up.” Jesse apologized immediately. 

“It’s not that.” Juri continued to avoid Jesse’s eyes, focusing on the wounds. 

“Sorry.” 

“For what?”

“Getting hurt.” He tried again, but Juri only sighed.

He finally looked up at Jesse. Their eyes met, and Juri felt himself softening at the gaze that could never do wrong, especially when Jesse was so intent on punishing himself by staying silent as he harshly dabbed each cut with the disinfectant that stung. 

“...hurts, right?” Juri finally said, and Jesse nodded, involuntary tears rimming his eyes. 

“I didn’t mean to–I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” He set down the swab and looked down at his feet, “I have this bad feeling.”

Jesse scooted his chair closer, head tilted and bent to meet Juri’s eyes, “What feeling?” 

Juri quietly confesses, “That you don’t need me anymore.” 

Then louder, looking at Jesse, “You have a world outside of me now…you keep secrets from me now.” Saying it out loud didn’t make it feel any better. It only made Juri feel ugly – raw and ugly. 

Jesse’s heart sank, his guilty expression said it all. And he doesn’t have the will nor the reason to defend himself. He’d been meeting Taiga. He’d been keeping that from Juri. Maybe it was selfish. Maybe he thought that could have been a secret only he indulged in. Jesse hadn’t realized how much that had consumed him.. 

The silence grows thick with the two of them frozen in place, an elephant in the room in between. Juri doesn’t understand how it became this way. This was never what he wanted. He only ever wanted Jesse to be safe, healthy, and happy – or at least that’s what he always told himself. 

Daring to want was daring to lose, yet Juri ached with desire. He leans over and his lips fall softly onto Jesse’s. The kiss is soft, grazing his lips for a brief moment – he ached with desire, not for Jesse, but for the world where he was Jesse’s reason, just as Jesse was his. 

“I dream of a world where Jesse you’re the one to take away all of my first experiences.” 

Jesse looked into Juri’s eyes, less startled by the kiss than Juri’s tears. 

“But that wasn’t my first kiss. And it wasn’t yours either.” 

Jesse knew what the words meant, but he could’ve never known its weight. 

*

*

*

Juri’s words that night stuck with him, faint like a dull echo that scared him into stopping himself every time he wandered towards that fancy boutique. 

It was true that he could barely put weight on his leg, the pain so sharp that he dragged the leg more than walked on it. But Jesse also made up excuses that he had to work, he didn’t see the text, or some days he’d fail to respond altogether — unable to muster up the willpower to even lie. 

When Jesse did go meet Taiga, everything always picked up exactly where they left off. It was still so pleasant, too pleasant to belong to Jesse. He began to want to wash himself of the guilt every time he headed home after their hangouts, yet instead Jesse only grew more adept at lying to himself. Maybe if he swept all of his doubts under the rug, he could hang onto whatever it was they had before it broke on him. 

Taiga saw the way Jesse’s responses grew from immediate to five minutes, two hours, and some days he’d fail to respond altogether. He tried to ignore it, but he would catch himself wondering what it was like to see inside Jesse’s brain, and to understand where he stood with Jesse. He knew this wasn’t good, and he recognized this as the same pattern his friendships always ended up following. Like he was only ever destined to go down this inevitable doomed path. 

Taiga had always resisted asking Jesse questions about his life because that meant exchanging his story for equal value, but he wasn’t blind. He saw the new bruises and the fresh limp he showed up with. He saw the way Jesse looked hollow and used the night they met. 

Yet Jesse always seemed to light up when he saw him. He read through the manga pages in awe, and looked at Taiga like being able to read billboards was a special talent. Jesse said he was special and talented, even though his work was anything but. Jesse said he knew what working on these streets looked like, and he didn’t need to hide the truth around him. 

Kyomoto Taiga had never received permission to be himself before. And that was so intoxicating that it enticed him into chasing leads he wouldn’t otherwise chase, bargaining to meet people who fixed up jobs despite his ignorance for what that meant in this world. 

“Masaya?” Taiga set his book down and looked over at Jesse, who’d been lying across from him on the tatami with a book covering his face. 

Jesse pulled the book down, revealing just his eyes, “Hm?”

“I have something to tell you.” 

He sat up, curious. 

“What if I told you we can run away?” 

“Run away? From what? Where?” Jesse fired off his immediate questions with half a chuckle, believing this to be one of Taiga’s imaginary propositions again. 

But Taiga leaned in, crossing his arms on the short table in front of them, more serious than ever, “I found a guy. He can make people disappear. New names, new identity and everything.” 

He still laughed, “That sounds made up.”

“You don’t trust me?” 

“No, I do. I just–” His skepticism met Taiga’s eyes, his gaze set on convincing Jesse. 

“Masaya, today’s cage does not have to be tomorrow’s prison.”

“That’s from your favorite manga, isn’t it?” 

“I need to know by tonight.” 

Jesse felt the weight of the decision but when he looked up at Taiga, he saw his enticing eyes. Talks of living a normal life, even if he couldn’t go to school or play an ordinary sport, it still meant the kind of freedom he only ever clipped from magazines when he was little. His heart felt as heavy as his leg that throbbed whenever he shifted his weight. Memories surfaced – things he hated thinking about – the night in the snow, the morning Yugo died, the first time he stared at his own reflection sitting in the salon chair, bleach gnawing at his scalp…even the closet that eventually he stopped fitting into. He was always too afraid to hate this life – because then what did he have? 

“Only if Juri comes too.” He finally said after long deliberation. 

Taiga didn’t know who Juri was, but it didn’t matter so long as Jesse came. 

“Deal.” 

*

*

*

Juri always heard Jesse before he saw him over the next week. His leg weighed him down, his steps became loud thuds against the poorly insulated basement. He felt bad about that night, and every night he’d offer to take a look at Jesse’s leg, even if there was nothing he could really do, and still Jesse would always say no and walk straight to the shower. 

There had never been anything that came between them. And even though Juri was confident this was still the case, he wanted a sign from Jesse that proved to him where he stood in his heart. 

When Jesse came out of the shower, the light had been turned off already with Juri in bed. He felt the mattress shift when Jesse slid in with him. Some nights they’d talk, but most nights they’d sleep. This was neither. 

Jesse inched closer to Juri, his arms finding its way out of his blanket and into Juri’s. His chest pressed against Juri’s slightly smaller frame and arms wrapped around his waist tightly. 

His breath was warm on Juri’s neck, but he stayed quiet. 

“Masaya?” Juri softly asked, his head half turned, but Jesse’s grip made it impossible to turn around. 

“I need you, Juri.” His breath hitched in a tremor, something only Juri would notice. 

His heart skipped a beat. It was the validation he ached for, twisted into a shape he didn’t quite understand. It didn’t feel hopeful – it felt like dread in a way that he couldn’t fathom yet. 

“Meet me at 6:00 p.m. sharp tomorrow night. At our usual spot, okay?” He said in one breath, as if he didn’t get it out, it would get caught in his throat. 

Juri resisted again. He wanted to turn around and see Jesse’s face, but it was evident Jesse didn’t want to look him in the eye.

“What’s going on?” He said instead, quietly. He didn’t know why this was delicate, but he knew it was somehow. 

Jesse hugged him harder, his face buried into the nape of Juri’s neck. 

“Please…don’t ask any questions. Just…Just trust me.” 

Juri didn’t understand why Jesse’s voice strained the way it did, why he sounded so terrified, but the only thing easier than breathing was trusting Jesse.

“Okay.” 

When morning came, Juri woke up remembering the promise he made the night before, yet the mood was entirely different. He was perplexed. Jesse was back to normal, in spite of the way he still dragged his leg when he walked. They even walked to the office together that morning, and Jesse had been extra deliberate about cleaning up the place before they left. 

He marked it strange, but he didn’t hate it. Juri knew his confidence in their relationship was not misplaced, smiling as they parted ways that morning. 

As he’s about to cross the street, Juri hears Jesse call out to him.

“Don’t forget tonight! Date at 6 o’clock sharp! Don’t be late!” 

Juri watched as Jesse nearly sprung up and down waving his arm, but landed with a wince. 

He turned back with two thumbs up, smiling then waved as he ran across the street.

Jesse watched Juri disappear into the crowd before he went on his way. 

There was no turning back now. 

*

*

*

When Taiga arrived at the meet up spot, he realized why Jesse chose it. There was a narrow gap between two buildings, a strip of pavement concealed behind a bush that had scribbles spray painted onto the walls in neon paint. He felt his way into the alley along the wall until his foot kicked a crate covered by cardboard, and when he uncovered it he found flashlights, magazines, and even a pack of cigarettes and lighter. 

Taiga sat on a milk crate patiently for Jesse’s arrival with his friend, but when he heard footsteps only Jesse showed.

“Masaya?” 

“Yeah.” He replied, the dark alleyway impossible to see past arms length. 

Taiga passes Jesse a second flashlight, but they sit in the dark waiting for the final member of their group. 

“Masaya, he’s late.” 

Slowly, the time ticked ten minutes past six. 

“He will come. We have to wait.” 

The hand travels down the clock on Taiga’s watch. Half past six. 

He stands up, shining his flashlight as he begins to pace to the end of the alleyway and back. Jesse rubs his leg, trying to alleviate the pain enough to run later if he had to, but the massaging only works the pain into the background instead of relieving it. Sweat builds on his forehead, and he clutches his bag tighter. 

Where was Juri?

“Masaya, we have to go.” Finally Taiga intervenes, hoping Jesse could stick to their original plan, “Maybe we can leave a note. He can come meet us at the pier.”

Taiga goes to dig a pen out of his backpack, but before he can even find it, Jesse springs up and stops him. 

“No, don’t leave a paper trail.” 

He winces at being on his legs again, but it was only secondary to their situation.

“I can’t leave him. I’m sorry.” 

Taiga couldn’t see Jesse’s face, but he heard the conflict in his voice and how important this Juri must be to him.

Sirens wailed in the distant background as the two resigned to their positions again, waiting as time slowly ticked by. Jesse was too anxious to entertain small talk and Taiga was itching to move on with the plan, both preoccupied yet jumping every time some distant footsteps got closer, every time light barely spilled into the dark alleyway.

Something had to be done.

“Why don’t you go ahead? You can scout it out for us and we’ll meet you there as soon as possible.” Jesse proposed a solution that seemed most reasonable at the time, and Taiga promptly agreed. 

“See you there.” 

After Taiga left, Jesse sat in the alleyway alone worried about Juri. He’d tried his phone several times, but it always went straight to voicemail. The nerve and excitement he’d felt earlier in the day had completely dissipated into a stomach churning worry. He knew he would have to find Juri no matter what it took, so against his better judgment, Jesse grabbed his bag and headed toward the office. If Juri was headed his way from the office, there was only one route he could take. 

He blinked as he pushed through the bushes, eyes adjusting to the moonlight, bright for the crescent moon that it was that night. Jesse turned and headed down the street as quickly as he could, but he wouldn’t get much further. He spotted a car in his peripheral, slowing down and coming to a full stop beside him. 

Jesse froze in his tracks. 

“Masaya.”

Tony’s voice as the window rolled down, smoke billowing from his cigar. 

“Where are you headed in such a hurry?”

He turned. He saw the man Taiga was supposed to meet at the pier sitting beside Tony in his limo, and knew Tony’s question was rhetorical. 

Two familiar faces emerged from a second vehicle and even as they got closer, Jesse couldn’t move. He couldn’t run with his dead leg. The thought echoed in his head, ringing back to him like a death bell. 

He couldn’t run. Dead leg or not. 

Nobody runs away from Tony.

*

*

*

Jesse blinked awake, the high ceiling of a factory. The smell of salt in the air. The boat factory. 

“Your bruises are still yellow. Your leg still drags, yet you’ve forgotten your lesson already.” 

Jesse crawled towards the man, breathing heavily through his tight throat. He didn’t beg for forgiveness ever, but Tony’s words frightened him. 

He never spoke to Jesse like that. 

“My child. You were always my favorite.” 

The cold metal on his finger grazed against Jesse’s chin. He didn’t flinch, he barely moved. Jesse only thought about whether Juri had been punished before him, and he only wanted Juri safe. 

“After the life I gave you.” He leaned down and grabbed the blonde boy by the hair, dragging his face up to look at him, “You want out?” 

“No.” Jesse finally said. 

“No.” He repeated. He knew apologies only angered Tony more. And excuses broke ribs. 

Tony smiled, then paused to gauge the boy’s reaction. His Masaya had just begun to grow into his adult features, yet the hint of the boy was still there in the jawline that hadn’t fully sharpened yet. His face was blank, but he knew the boy was terrified underneath. It was beautiful, the way he’d molded this one. Shame to discard him. 

 He kissed the top of the boy’s forehead before dropping him to the floor. 

“God wouldn’t forgive me for keeping his angel.” 

Tony disappeared behind his bodyguards after those words. Jesse blinked on the floor, the familiar feeling after being used rushing to him and weighed him down. He thought about Juri, he couldn’t stop thinking of Juri even as he thought about Taiga. 

His body felt like a rag doll — didn’t belong to him — even as Tony’s men pushed him to his knees and tied him to a pole with rope. Tony’s words stuck to him like tar. Wings sounded nice. Jesse stared blankly at the night sky through the tattered ceiling panels and nobody said a word. 

Jesse wished Juri was here so he could tell him he was right. Dreams are too grand to fit into the tight space of their world. Jesse felt tears well up around his eyes, his wet lashes blurred his vision every time he blinked. No, he doesn’t wish Juri was here. He just hated the idea of leaving Juri behind, abandoning him without ever finding out if he was safe. His eyes began to sting and he struggled to keep them open. 

No…

Jesse had only hoped to look at the stars one more time. The empty factory grew smoky and the air felt too heavy to take in. Every time he coughed, his throat burned and the motion triggered the pain in his leg. Jesse shut his eyes that felt hot and dry; the air felt dark and dense. He remembered Juri before he crossed the street that morning, the way he smiled as he waved. Then he vanished into the crowd, and between hacks he felt himself reach out for Juri, his stomach clenching and unclenching. 

It smelled like the bonfire he cried at when he was twelve. 

Jesse’s lungs reach deeper for each breath but finds none. 

The bonfire after Yugo died where they burned all of his favorite magazine clippings. 

His coughs grow weaker, his will to open his eyes fade rapidly. The room felt tighter, like the night sky began to collapse on him, stars falling like small explosions on his skin. 

Jesse didn’t want to leave Juri the same way Yugo did. The thought of Juri being alone should’ve sunk his heart, yet Jesse never finishes that thought. 

The smoke filled the large space, searching for fuel to sear but only the crackling grew larger. Bright flames erupt as it hits the boat panels stacked in the corner. The air seizes with this eruption, and the knot tying Jesse fails to contain his dead weight. 

Jesse slouches before falling forward, collapsing onto the concrete as the building began to roar to life around him.

*

*

*

Taiga knew something had gone horribly wrong when a line of black sedans pulled up instead of their handler’s old Toyota. 

He ducked behind the barrels and peeked between them, yet not close enough to overhear. Suits, thugs, and the man they were supposed to meet. His stomach flipped. 

Jesse. 

A man held his hand guiding him away, and Jesse just followed without any resistance. A line of thugs stood guard outside, and his idea of getting closer was immediately shut down. 

Taiga stood by anxiously, watching as one of the suits handed over a wad of cash to the man he paid handsomely for this work. He clenched his jaw. That rat-ass toolbag. 

But Taiga’s attention only goes back to the building Jesse entered. Who was the man? And how did Jesse get caught? 

His mind spun as he waited trying to formulate a rescue plan. Everything falls apart once Taiga realizes his lack of allies and he’s left waiting. 

Finally, the men exit the building and he presses as far forward as possible to get an idea of the situation. His eyes follow each man until they stop coming. 

Jesse didn’t come out with them. 

The thought pounds against his chest, threatening to rush out but he holds it back. The night air grows foggy, a faint whiff of burnt air. The sound of tires on gravel, bright headlights whipping around, and Taiga sees the entourage leave the premises.

His heart thuds as he waits just one minute more to be safe and then he rushes towards the building, fully evident in flames by then. Taiga runs faster than his legs take him, tripping onto the gravel before he climbs up immediately. He rushes into the building without another thought, weaving through the fire while covering his nose with his t-shirt. 

Jesse…

A metal door swings open violently, hanging on by a hinge startling him into motion again. 

He roams deeper, yelling out Jesse’s name sparingly as the smoke makes the air harder to breathe. 

Under all the smoke and growing flames, Taiga spots a body collapsed onto the concrete. The ends of his blonde hair singed and his jacket melted holes onto his shirt. Taiga quickly pushes aside a pile of burning boxes to reach Jesse. He falls onto the ground next to him, his hand on Jesse’s face. 

He thought he could wipe away the grayed skin, yet he only smudged the ashes. Jesse was alive, he had to be. His eyes wander to the patches of red, his body hot to the touch even in the fire as he pulled him up. Taiga managed to drape Jesse over his back, sheer willpower dragging the both of their weights out of the burning factory. 

He laid Jesse onto the gravel outside, “Masaya…” Taiga pressed his ear to his chest for a heartbeat. 

Jesse coughed lightly once, and his mouth tried to move, but fell still again. 

Taiga hauled Jesse onto his back again, halfway folded under the weight but hellbent on saving Jesse. 

Anything. 

Taiga didn’t believe in God, but he prayed a little. 

*

*

*

If only Juri hadn’t been called in at the last minute as a substitute, none of this would’ve happened.

Juri sprinted down the street, checking his watch every thirty seconds or so. 

He was two whole hours late. 

He hoped Jesse didn’t stay there waiting, yet when he arrived he was disappointed that Jesse wasn’t there. It was unlike Jesse to leave before Juri arrived, but he couldn’t get an accurate read on the situation and what this was even about.

Juri sat down on the crate and resigned to waiting, hoping by chance that maybe Jesse doubled back. He pressed his phone, but no matter how many times he did it was still dead. 

Juri began to think about it calmly once he caught his breath. Everything about it seemed off, and he couldn’t help but worry about the reason why Jesse couldn’t tell him why they were meeting up. 

He remembered the way he hugged him last night, the way he didn’t want to look Juri in the eyes. He was scared of something – because that is exactly how Jesse behaves when he’s scared. 

His brain spun wondering where Jesse could have disappeared off to in the two hours. Something was wrong. He finally convinced himself, as he ran back the same way he came, praying that he’d run into Jesse on the way. 

Juri’s heart sank to his stomach even though they had simply missed each other for the date. He knew in his gut that they always managed to find each other on these streets. He headed towards home, a brisk walk turning into a full sprint that he nearly collided with someone on the sidewalk.

“Sorry!” Juri yelled and went on his way, tunnel visioned at finding Jesse, not realizing it was his acquaintance. 

“Wait Juri!” 

He stopped for a brief moment, “I’m sorry, in a rush!” 

“Wait, where are you – ” The boy interrupts himself, “Did you see Tony’s cars head out earlier? There’s gotta be at least five of ‘em.” 

He couldn’t explain why, but he knew this was related.

“Cars? Where did they go?” Juri grabbed the boy, eyes widened. 

“I don’t know…towards the pier, maybe? I didn’t see…” He replied, “Sho said they took a kid over there.” 

Before Juri could interrogate the kid further, he noticed the smoke in the sky in the direction of the pier, the distant orange lighting up the night sky. His legs grew weak for a moment before he buckled them into place. He had to go there. Not another word. As fast as his legs could carry. The smoke in the air got stronger as he sprinted down the blocks, disregarding traffic lights as more than one car honked their horns at him, fire trucks blaring past him in the opposite direction.

When Juri finally saw what remained, his heart was beating in his eyes, sweat ran down his cheeks. But he couldn’t tell anymore – what was sweat and what was tears. The gravel shuffled under his feet as he came to a halt,  his legs finally gave out. His knees hit the ground at the sight of a mountain of ashes, only the faint glow remaining in the night sky reminding him of everything the fire swallowed. The ground looked bare, tarred to nothing.

The old factory, everything inside…Masaya. 

His Masaya. 

“Masaya tried to escape from me, without you.” 

Those were Tony’s exact words the next day. But none of that meant anything to Juri. Whether Tony had him perform oral on him right after, or the fact that he worked through days without food, sleep, or a single thought. 

His footsteps didn’t echo across their empty room, the concrete swallowed all the sound. And when Juri carefully turns in bed to give Jesse enough space on their bed, his hand only feels the coldness of the space.

Why did their home feel like a prison?

Why was the twin-sized bed enormous?

That first night was quiet, deafeningly silent. As were all the nights after that.  Juri couldn’t tell if he’d forgotten what the world sounded like. Or Jesse’s absence took away all the life from his world. 

Juri didn’t scream. He didn’t cry. He didn’t need to. 

For whom could the tears be for? 

He wanted to open his mouth to say Masaya’s name one more time. Just one more time, but it would catch in his throat, unbearable when no one would ever answer to it ever again. 

Taiga has never had a single happy memory at the hospital. Not when his parents dragged him there to apologize to his classmate who he egged on to fight, not when he sat in that room to undergo a psych-evaluation. 

But none of them were as bad as now. All he could hear was the beeping of the heart monitor, the dull staccato in the otherwise sterile room. He felt small in the chair beside Jesse’s bed, and every time he closed his eyes the fire came back to him, burning behind the eyelids. Jesse looked so still after being cleaned up by the nurses, and if Taiga hadn’t seen the bandages underneath his clothes, he’d wonder why Jesse wasn’t waking up. 

Each day that goes by Taiga grows more anxious. Jesse would wake up in small windows, but nothing showed signs of him regaining his strength any time soon. He would have to lie to the doctors, the detectives who came by, and go as far as to produce false promises of payment. He bit his nails nervously as he waited outside while the nurse changed Jesse’s bandages for the night. 

The unattended cart caught his eye. 

Taiga takes a few cautionary steps toward it, checks his surroundings, and he opens the drawer for the pills that he’d seen the nurse give to Jesse. Pain killers, anti-biotics. He made sure to study the name on the bottle when he watched it being administered. Taiga knew the day would come when he could no longer keep up this lie. 

Over the next few rounds, he steals a bit each shift, keeping a growing pile at his apartment. In the morning, Jesse would be awake for a short period, but Taiga would almost wish he hadn’t been. When the detectives came by again with social workers, Taiga told him to pretend to be asleep. He smiled and told the adults on Jesse’s behalf that he’d bring the paperwork tomorrow. 

He stood in front of the vending machine blankly after they finally left. The warm can of coffee sat in the dispenser. He knelt down and exhaled a deep sigh. Taiga wondered if Jesse was better off without him. The hospital could fix him, no one would come looking for him, and soon enough Jesse could find a life that he wanted. 

It all made sense if he took himself out of the picture. 

And yet Taiga couldn’t bear the thought of returning to his life without Jesse, after everything they’d been through. It didn’t matter that Jesse would mutter a name that wasn’t his, night after night. He thought about the lazy evenings they spent reading manga together, taking long walks in the park, and even just sipping soda by the pier. Taiga wanted that. He needed that, and he’d make it happen by any means necessary.

One more time. 

Taiga stashed another set of the same pills before the nurse left them for the night. He made sure to hide a wheelchair behind the curtains earlier that day. 

“Masaya?” His hand stroked Jesse’s hair back, waking him up as gently as possible, dressing him in a coat he found, and helped him into the wheelchair. 

He fell bonelessly into the chair, thinner than he was a week ago, and not lucid enough to question Taiga’s decision. 

Taiga took whatever he could carry in a backpack and quietly wheeled Jesse out of the hospital, called a cab and brought him back to his apartment. He didn’t have any other choice, and he could only hope Jesse would forgive him for that. 

Taiga falls asleep at Jesse’s bedside as usual that night, but wakes before morning at the sheets shifting under him. His eyes snapped to Jesse before he was fully awake, Jesse’s breath sharp and shallow, shaking while clawing at the sheets. Taiga tries to touch him, but he flinches away. He tries again, and finally helps Jesse sit up against his shoulder. He feels his shirt wet with involuntary tears, his body shaking with pain, his chest seizing then his dry throat croaked with a cry. Taiga wishes he could hug Jesse, steady him and give him some reprieve from his own skin, yet he could only caress the back of his head. Taiga hummed a song jaggedly, scared at how Jesse had woken up. He didn’t know if Jesse would die in his arms, if he really did need the doctors and nurses, but he had no choice. Tears welled up in his eyes, he wanted to save Jesse so badly. 

“Juri…Jur…” 

The sound of Juri’s name in Jesse’s mouth was the only word he’d be able to feel any comfort in for the next couple weeks. Even when Taiga dosed him a little more than he should have and the side effects stole what little food and water remained in his system, he still clung onto his fever dream of a boy. Taiga had no doubts of this boy’s importance, and some day he’d ask Jesse about it himself. He only wished he could talk to Jesse again, that this hellish nightmare could come to an end. Taiga wasn’t sure how much he had left in himself to stay sane in the echoes of Jesse’s sufferings. 

*

*

*

Jesse’s first vivid thought was that he had been dropped into hell after he died. His skin seared with hot fire, yet the dreary gray speckled wallpaper didn’t look like hell. 

He didn’t want to be alive.

When Jesse closed his eyes, memories flashed through his mind with dull precision and sudden movements. His arms and head were slouched onto the sofa cushion as he sat on the carpet, yet he couldn’t remember why. When he tried to correct his position, he only collapsed in pain, his vision blacking out for a moment. That was the only movement he’d been afforded, with no strength left in his body. 

Jesse only felt trapped under his own skin, scorched slowly and alive. His lips felt dry and chapped, yet even wetting it felt laborious. He blinked slowly, unsure who or what he was anymore. He felt hot. He only felt heat radiating from inside out and from outside in. 

He didn’t know how much time passed before he forced his body to adjust to the pain, or maybe it subdued. Jesse only remembered finally remembering Juri. 

Juri. 

Was Juri why he was alive? 

Juri.

Juri was there every time he felt like shit. 

Juri. 

Only Juri could fix him. 

The thought of Juri spiraled on his mind as a soft hand touched the back of his head, coaxing him to open his mouth to swallow pills. The voice was so gentle. It was so soothing even as he was being set on flames again and again. His stomach turned, clenched then the fire grew gentle but his world spun out of focus. 

*

*

*

When the medication ran out, Jesse finally understood his punishment. Maybe Tony was right. Dying in the fire would have been mercy. 

He’d been away from Juri for 23 days, a number that would never reset anymore. Taiga told him that phoenixes are reborn from ashes, but Jesse could only force a smile at that time.

Taiga talked to him a lot, telling him about anything he could think of, but Jesse hardly responded. He felt sorry for Taiga, trapped in this small room with him. Jesse felt wrong without Juri. Even without the spikes in pain that seemed to rearrange his skin patch by patch, he felt wrong in a way that he couldn’t put words to. Nothing sat right in his mind. Nothing felt real without Juri. 

The musty smell of the couch fabric under his fingertips, roughly pilled in patches. The wailing of sirens distant in the background, even the humming of the fan Taiga set behind him. They were fake in a way that didn’t belong to him. 

Was this the dream waiting for him on the other side all along? 

When Jesse woke up the next morning, Taiga wasn’t home. He only blinked without movement, yet everything slowly returned to him no less. It didn’t matter what he did. 

Jesse stopped dreaming altogether. His sleep was never deep enough for it. But that morning he remembered the night in the snow, how cool that snow felt on his back, and how the snow crusted a thin layer over his body when he stayed still enough. 

Jesse looked around and tried to get up. The thought of the cool air dusting over his body on the snowy ground kept his pain at bay long enough to stand up. He drags his legs over, stumbling once before he reaches the kitchen table where a pair of scissors catches his attention. 

He blinks slowly as his hand reaches for them before his mind says no. 

Taiga deserves better. 

Jesse took the scissors and pulled himself to the bathroom next, and the sound of water rushing into the tub drowns out any doubt he had left. 

Juri wasn’t coming back. And maybe he shouldn’t have either. 

*

*

*

Taiga rushes up the metal steps to his apartment, trying to keep his supply runs as efficient as possible. Jesse had just fallen asleep when he left after another night of low fevers and incoherent mumblings. The least he needed to do was buy some more food if he hoped Jesse would get better. 

He pushed the front door open slowly, despite the usual creaking of the door. Taiga tiptoed inside, carrying his shoes in one hand, groceries in the other when he found the couch empty. He dropped both hands immediately to search for Jesse, and in his tiny apartment there was only one place he could be. 

Taiga knocked on the bathroom door, “Are you in there?” 

No response. He looked closer and saw a shadow past the fogged plastic of the door. 

“Open up. Masaya?” He knocked more urgently and finally began to twist on the door knob. It was locked, but the quieter the other side way was, the more anxious he grew. Taiga shook the door knob until it came off altogether and the door swung open. 

He dropped to the floor frantically searching for a towel. Jesse fell against the edge of the tub, face pale against the tub of water dyed a faint scarlet with his blood. He quickly wrapped his wrist with a towel, applying pressure while letting the bleeding boy slump against his chest. 

His hands shook as he nervously opened the towel slightly to peek at the damage. Blood still slowly seeped out, but the cut didn’t look as bad as the water did.

“T…aiga.” Jesse slowly blinked back into consciousness.

“We can’t afford to go back to the hospital. Not after…” Taiga’s voice shook, turning his head away while he bit down on his lips to keep himself from crying. 

“I’m sorry.” were Jesse’s first words. He never learned the words for pain. He forgot how to smile, but he never forgot how to apologize. 

 “I know it hurts.”

 Taiga held him closer, his grip on Jesse’s wrist tightening, “But you can’t give up now.” 

Jesse felt cold for a brief moment when he was lying against the tub, blinking as his wrist bled the water red. 

“You can’t leave me.” 

But now it was back. The fire clawed up his back, melting into his skin once more. 

“You’re not allowed to.” 

Taiga finally turned to Jesse. 

His eyes brimmed with fat drops of tears, pouring down without warning and Jesse felt his heart twinge. Taiga looked terrible. The bags under his eyes, the red veins that snaked out from his iris. Taiga didn’t deserve this — what makes him deserve Taiga? 

Jesse struggled but finally sat up on his own, pulling his wrist free from Taiga, lips pale and eyes tired. His hands shook as he raised to the older boy’s face, his trembling finger delicately thumbing over his eye. 

“Don’t cry.”

Jesse’s voice was only a soft whisper, yet it was the only sound Taiga needed. His head fell against Jesse, his shoulders shook as he cried, unable to squeeze out another word. 

But Jesse understood. He wasn’t allowed to die. Not without Taiga’s permission. 

*

*

*

The first summer was difficult to remember, the heat outside matched the heat inside Jesse, tearing him apart night after night. When he finally stopped wincing at the pain, the seasons passed in a blur, and Taiga finally went back to work. The next summer came and went, and Taiga got used to opening the door to Jesse waiting for him. Sometimes he’d rest his head on the table staring at the spring rain outside, but other days he’d be keeping himself occupied flipping through Taiga’s old textbooks, trying to read anything he could. 

Tonight was neither. 

Taiga raced up the steps to escape the drizzle that turned into a shower during his walk home from the early shift. He figured finishing early meant he could go to the store with Jesse together to pick out dinner. He sighed as he dusted the rain off his jacket. Eating at the park was out of the question now. 

Taiga collapsed his umbrella, shook it over the banister before heading inside. The evening was dark, yet the lights were off. On the off chance that Jesse was napping, Taiga quietly slips inside. But there was no one on the couch, no one on the bed. Most importantly, the fan was off. Jesse wasn’t home. 

The fluorescent light overhead buzzed as Taiga stood in the center of his small apartment. Not knowing where Jesse went made him feel uneasy, especially after learning that Jesse hadn’t even taken his phone with him. Old worries began to crop up – what if his past found him? Everything was too neatly in place for Jesse to have been snatched out of the house. Jesse was not only taller than Taiga now, he didn’t seem to feel pain anymore. Fighting him would be hard. His thoughts spiraled, fidgeting with his phone in his hands, eyes locked straight on the blank wall ahead, honing in and out of focus. He stared at the calendar with April hanging on by the hinge even though they were already in May. 

The door clicking jolted him out of his thoughts. The door unbolted and Jesse walked through the door, a small plastic bag in hand. He pushed his dark wet locks back, soaked by the rain outside, and when Taiga arrived at his heel, Jesse smiled. 

Taiga froze at the smile, before remembering his words again. 

“Where did you go?” He tried to keep his words calm, but something was strange about Jesse. 

“The store.” He carefully untied the bag, kept tightly together to avoid the rain.

 “Got dinner.” He opened the bag for Taiga to see – two bento boxes, two sodas, and an extra pudding for Taiga. 

He took the bag from Jesse as he took his shoes off and went straight into the bathroom to dry himself off. Taiga sat at their small kitchen table, staring at the contents of the bag, pondering how to question Jesse without sounding accusatory. 

Jesse emerged from the bathroom, pajama pants and a clean towel draped over his shoulder. When he turned, Taiga realized how long it’d been since he’d seen the scars – the pale ridges patched together unnaturally snaking around his waist – something that looked like a tattoo from far away, but only he knew it was anything but. 

“Masaya?” 

“Hm?” Jesse replied offhandedly. 

“Where’d you get the money?” 

He drops off the towel and returns to the table, a shirt pulled over his head, “I ran a job.” His voice shook, barely – but it wasn’t fear. Taiga would have missed it any other time. It was a sliver of excitement. 

“What job” 

“Bought a guy a cigarette. He took me on his run. Said he’d call again.” Jesse folded his arms in front of himself, looking at Taiga with a slight look of content. 

But Taiga only looked back, curious but confused, “How?” 

A small smirk. 

“I know the type.” 

He saw a small light in Jesse’s eyes and it reminded him of the boy he met in the alleyway when he told him to run in the opposite direction.

Jesse got up to warm their food and while he waited, he turned to Taiga, “Oh, right. I told him my name is Jesse.” 

Taiga leaned on the table, head tilted in confusion, “Jesse?” 

“Jesse Lewis.” 

“Why Jesse Lewis?” 

He shrugged, “I used to imagine Jesse was my name when I was little.” 

Taiga nodded slowly.

“Lewis is from your book over there.” Jesse pointed to the English textbook on the couch. 

“Thanks for buying dinner, Jesse.” His face lit up with a grin, knowing he should feel happy for Jesse, yet he knew it didn’t come from the bottom of his heart.

That night, Taiga woke up in the middle of the night for a drink of water, but stopped to look at Jesse asleep on the couch. He slept extremely still on his stomach, bare upper body despite the fan that hummed in the background. He wondered if this was finally not enough for him, and a small fear took root that some day Jesse may find a life outside of Taiga – the way he found Taiga outside of Juri. 

The light that Taiga saw in Jesse’s eyes began to grow stronger. Jesse began to grow stronger. Even if he came home with a fractured nose, he’d return with more power in his fists. With every brushed off bruise, Taiga watched Jesse grow more confidence. He walked with more power, spoke with precision, and the dangerous look in his eyes sharpened. Jesse pushed his shoulder back into place one too many times – fighting, falling, gaining ranks. He found new streets to learn, but this time he was determined to run them. Nobody knew where he appeared from, but everyone began to see Jesse was someone to be reckoned with. 

Yet the nights were still too quiet. Too much space for the nightmares that never left him alone. Dreams where he was back in the basement, Juri was chained in the corner like when they were kids, and he’d ask Jesse where he’d gone. 

He would wake drenched in sweat, automatically triggered to pull the weapon under his pillow until he realized the only danger was himself. 

Jesse would blink hard a few times as he caught himself, before pounding the reality back into his mind. 

You could never go back to Juri. 

*

*

*

Jesse always made it home after drinking. Getting sloppily drunk wasn’t a choice when so many eyes were constantly on his back, but he still found himself a beat delayed no matter how steady his steps were after one too many drinks. 

He misses the faint whiff of smoke and the light smog in the air, his steps only instinctively headed towards home. It was too late when he heard the fire truck wail past him, a small jolt in his step before he turned the corner. The siren faded into the background, as the sight ahead of him narrowed into focus. 

Jesse felt like he heard the crackling of the flames in the old boat factory in an instant, noisier than the emerging crowd watching the firefighters spring into action to save the burning building ahead of him. 

His legs collapsed under him for a brief moment, his mouth dry and suddenly sober. Jesse fought the sudden relentless white flashes to finally turn on his heel. Once he started running he couldn’t stop, as long as he was away from the fire. He bumped into someone, muttered an apology the first time and immediately bumped into someone else. This time he felt the concrete scrape his skin, but he shook away the memories and scrambled up in a hurry. 

Jesse told himself to focus on home. To focus on Taiga. But between flashes of the fire were Tony, the leather belt, and everything in between. 

A voice called out to him. His heart skipped a beat when Jesse thought it was Juri. Then it pounded harder than ever. 

The fluorescent light fell harshly on Taiga’s face as he stood rubbing his eyes. 

Jesse blinked hard a few times, realizing he’d been panting against the front door inside their entryway. 

Taiga. 

“Jesse…What’s wrong? It’s so late…” He takes a step closer, his hand warm freshly from slumber touches Jesse’s ice cold pale skin for only a brief moment before Jesse flinches away. He ducks, bracing his head instinctively before Taiga backs up.

“Jesse?” He tries again after Jesse relaxes for a second. 

This time his hand runs down Jesse’s face, moist with sweat. Taiga steps in even closer, looking up at Jesse. 

He doesn’t get the chance for words. Jesse grabs his wrist and spins him into the wall. His breathing picks up again, nearly panting when he leans down and kisses Taiga’s lips. 

Taiga’s eyes widened, flinching away. 

“Help me…” Jesse pleads before kissing him again, landing roughly and messily. Taiga turns away, his wrists still bound against the wall by Jesse’s grip. 

Help me shut out the memories and pain. 

Taiga squirms, hands struggling so hard Jesse slams them against the wall again as he makes the kiss harder. 

Taiga grows angry, in between kisses. “Let go, Jesse. Now.” 

But he watches as if Jesse couldn’t hear him, frantic and dazed. As if he wasn’t fully there. 

Jesse pulls back for a moment, his eyes finally focusing yet he averts his gaze in an instant. He couldn’t find his voice to ask for Taiga’s help again, his body moved before his mind found out, the willpower to stop trapped behind a steel cage.

Taiga feels Jesse’s grip loosen, but Jesse only spins him around, pressing his chest to the wall. His lips find the nape of his neck, the skin tinged under Jesse’s lips. He cages Taiga in with his body weight when he resists, one hand beginning to tug on Taiga’s clothes. 

Taiga tries to turn his face to look at Jesse but fails against his strength. His face crushed against the wall—resisting, struggling, and failing to find the words to tell Jesse no. 

His shirt falls to the floor, stripped down by Jesse and kisses land a little too hard down his back. As if the intensity alone could wash away the flashbacks that relentlessly flooded through his mind. 

“Jesse…” Taiga finally pleads, tears in his eyes when he finally accepts he can’t free himself from Jesse’s hold. 

He feels Jesse inside him and his hand over his mouth at the same time. Taiga’s small yelps are muffled against Jesse’s palm as he closes his eyes, deep breath with each thrust until it grows faster. 

Jesse never knew what total silence felt like until now. 

The banging inside the walls of his head muted into the blood rushing to one place and even short lived as the high, he would never forget it. 

He delivers himself close to the climax before abruptly halting, then again. And again. Taiga feels his body grow numb against Jesse’s abrupt rhythm, helpless and trapped inside this cycle. Every time a noise involuntarily escapes his lips, he feels a hand come over his mouth, squeezing the sides of his jaw until they grow sore. 

The release feels like a steep drop off a cliff. Jesse sees the white liquid drip down Taiga’s back as he collapses onto the floor, cheeks pressed red and faint marks formed around his jaw and neck. 

“I…” Jesse forgot how to apologize. Why did something that felt so good feel so wrong?

Jesse collects Taiga’s clothes and falls to his knees beside him, thumb digging into his own finger until it bled. 

Taiga slowly climbs up, dresses himself through tears, and leaves without a word. Jesse on the floor alone, his hand mechanically slapping across his own face. 

Jesse always woke up staring at the motel ceiling after drinking since that night. 

He no longer trusted himself. 

*

*

*

Juri handed the same empty neon orange bottle back to Kyomoto Taiga sitting on the edge of the bed. 

He was the one standing, yet he felt smaller — belittled by the man before him.

“You’re Kyomoto Taiga?” Juri asked coldly. The name smudged on the side of the bottle.  

He looked up at Juri, “So what if I am?”

“I should kill you.” Even though he knew that wasn’t why he was there. Why did he come?  

A scoff escaped Taiga’s lips accompanied by a knowing grin, small and entertained. 

“I’ve heard your name come out of Jesse’s mouth all those years.” Taiga leans back, “Never thought it was a common name. I should’ve known it was you afterall.” 

“Why would Jesse bring me up?” The name Jesse still stung on his tongue, bitter and foreign. Taiga was the one who erased Masaya from Juri’s life. He wanted to remind himself. 

But that wasn’t why he was there. 

Taiga exhaled quietly, “You don’t know anything, do you?” He thought about the nights after the fire, all the nights Juri’s name was the only thing keeping Jesse until morning. Then again, and again. 

Then he got up, closing the distance between him and Juri, “Yet you’re here.”

He scans Juri, down and back up at his eyes. “You’re not here to kill me.” 

“I will.” Despite his words, his stance falters a step back. Juri doesn’t understand the man in front of him. He doesn’t understand why he was here to be ridiculed once again. Yet in the hotel room, Juri felt more honest than he had in years.

“I’m not your enemy, Juri.” Taiga’s hand reaches out, softly stroking his face. Juri flinches, but freezes. It was the worst good feeling in the world.  

Taiga whispered, “We can be whoever we want in this room. And that’s the real reason you’re here.” 

He swallows, eyes shut as Taiga’s fingers glide down his jaw teasingly, tilting his chin towards him. He held it between his fingers, pausing and waiting for Juri to deny it. 

“I just wanted Jesse back.” Juri’s voice shook as he confessed, unsure why the man before him compelled him to speak the truth he’d been broiling in since that night. Maybe repentance could heal him. Who else would listen? 

Juri opened his eyes, “Instead I have you.” Begrudged, tormented, tempted nonetheless. 

Taiga finishes Juri’s thoughts with a kiss. He doesn’t need to hear any more — he doesn’t want to hear anymore. His hands cup Juri’s neck in place while he resisted, squirming against his body that only pressed in. Even his resistance was performative, Taiga thought. He couldn’t stop then, his hands grazing Juri’s bare back under his t-shirt until he folded. His clothes fell to the floor, stripped away slowly until there was nothing. 

Finally Taiga has him pinned down on the bed. Locks brushing against Juri’s chest as he grazed down then back up. 

He leans in, sucking on the skin roughly until it seals a mark on Juri’s neck. 

Whisper burning on his ear. 

“I own you too.” 

Whenever Jesse wasn’t in the room, Shintaro usually was. 

Shintaro stomps out his cigarette, crushing it against the pavement before walking into the restaurant. The foyer was empty, fresh fish swam lazily in the murky tanks by the front door. He strolled past the unlit neon OPEN sign and nodded at the owner, who peeked his head out, acknowledged Shintaro and got back to work to close up shop. 

He walked down a long dim hallway with old carpet, a faded emerald green, hands in his pocket. The lieutenants had called a meeting about the incident, about what they’d do if Jesse’s judgement had been clouded by Kyomoto Taiga. Shintaro despised the idea of questioning Jesse’s leadership, so he found it in himself to show up to this meeting to shut it down. 

At the end of the hallway was a private dining room. There were chairs stacked against the wall that was the corridor’s end. A man sat in a chair he took from the stack, just barely out of the shadows enough for Shintaro to see. 

“Jesus Christ Hokuto,” Shintaro saw a faint ember in the dark before making out Hokuto’s face, “Why do you have to sit in the dark like that? It’s creepy.” 

“Sorry, habit.” He came out of the shadow, dusting ashes onto the carpet from his cigarette, “Just killing some time before everyone gets here.” 

“Smoke in the room like a normal person, would ya?” He glances over at Hokuto, who stands in his usual attire. Loose dress shirt and dark messy curls that fell a bit too long over his brows. 

He gestures for Shintaro to head into the room, then follows behind him, the door slowly swinging to a soft close after them. They find their seats at the round dining table. Hokuto parks himself in front of the seat with an ash tray, while Shintaro sits directly across from him. 

The overhead lighting brought out the marks on Hokuto’s neck, too peculiar to be accidental. Shintaro notices and immediately notes it for what it is. 

“Jes visited again?” He cuts straight to the point, slouching in his seat. Hokuto doesn’t even flinch. 

He exhales out a small puff of smoke, “I knew you’d say something.” The off-colored ring around his neck was glaring and Hokuto made no efforts to hide it. 

“I really don’t get you…or him for that matter,” Shintaro muttered, unable to bite his tongue on the matter. 

Hokuto scoffed, finally done with the cigarette, “How could you? All you do is blindly follow.” 

He crushed the remainder of the stick against the glass ash tray, “Admirable loyalty, though.” 

“As opposed to whatever you’re doing? They all say you didn’t earn your seat.” 

“Do you believe it?” Hokuto immediately points it back at Shintaro. 

“What’s it matter to you?”

“You follow Jesse because of a silly little instinct you have that he’s someone from twenty years ago.” Hokuto crossed his arms in front of him. His smirk should be insulting, but Shintaro saw a smidge of envy in it. 

“How do you know for sure?” Hokuto asked. 

“I don’t. It’s a gut feeling. That’s your problem, Hokuto. You don’t follow your heart more.” Shintaro pointed out the irony. That despite Hokuto’s less than pristine reputation for being Jesse’s toy he didn’t actually follow his heart. 

Hokuto looked at him back, “You’re wrong. I do. And look where it landed me.” 

Their exchange was cut short by the remaining two members entering. The large table was only sparsely filled, but the powers in play dictated the ground level forces of Jesse’s control. That night they were going to decide how to move forward with the rumors. Words whispered insinuating that Jesse Lewis had direct ties to the missed handoff, the assassinated rival gang leader, and tensions were growing higher than ever. 

The meeting ended as calmly as it could. Shintaro’s attendance destined a neutral outcome. Nobody was happy with Kyomoto, but Shintaro refused to allow that to turn their unity away from Jesse’s leadership.

Shintaro left the meeting scratching his head for leads after stepping up to look into the incident. The neon bar signs flicker to life as he passes down the street, headed for his usual izakaya. It was not unheard of to push out a scapegoat to water down the tension, but unless it was Kyomoto, it would only be a waste of a life. 

Only Jesse could put him in such a tough position. 

*

*

*

When Jesse left Taiga’s apartment that night, he planned for an easy shift. There was no schedule, but the man who called him paid upfront for his time. Jesse walked into the club, young enough to get carded but confident enough to not get stopped. He weaved through the dance floor and exited out back with a package in hand. He tucked it into his hoodie pocket, then headed to the handoff point. 

The sea breeze was strong at night, the pier illuminated by the orange tinted street lights. He sat on the curb of the parking lot waiting for the car to pull in. Jesse went on high alert when he saw flashing patrol lights, ducking behind a mini van. The blue patrol lights reflected off of the side mirror of the van, and it quietly passed. He checked his watch and stayed there. 

Jesse should’ve been alone, but he heard footsteps. His brows creased, his muscles wound up. 

“I know you’re there. Come out.” The footsteps parked themselves across the van. Jesse could see from under the car. 

He ignored the man. He didn’t sound old; in fact he sounded young. Jesse clutched his switch blade. 

The shadow moved, turning the corner onto Jesse’s side and he sprang up, slamming the man into the van, blade pressed against his throat in a sudden burst. 

“Woah, relax. Not your competition.” The man, who was really a boy his age, threw his hands up. Jesse looked down; he was wearing shorts and sandals. And that alone made Jesse inclined to believe that he was telling the truth. 

“What do you want?” 

The boy squirmed against Jesse’s hold and for a second, Jesse backed up, still not relenting his suspicions entirely. 

“I followed you from the club, man.” Then his voice got quieter, “You shook your first tail but not your second.” 

“What?” Jesse asked. His blade retracted. 

“I followed the guys who were following you.” The boy explained, “Get out of here.” His tone grew serious instantly. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“The handoff is a trap. A setup. Cops, you know.” 

Jesse felt the packet in his possession then looked back up at the boy. 

He threw up his hands and shrugged, “Believe me as you will.” 

Then before Jesse could ask the inevitable question, the boy beat him to the punch.

“I help people. People like you. It’s good for business.” He looked around, realizing they were running out of time. 

“I’m Shintaro.” His introduction sounded rehearsed, but it didn’t feel phony. 

He looked at the boy suspiciously one more time. He had a disarming smile under the ballcap, and his attire looked like he was out for a stroll after dinner. Out of place, but trustworthy for now. 

“Jesse.” 

Then Jesse turned on his heel and ran, ducking behind cars with a low profile slithering into the back alleys to escape. Jesse didn’t look back, but he remembered the sandals. 

He always had a bad feeling when people cropped out of thin air, and Shintaro was no different. He wondered how they only managed to cross paths when he saw the boy again, weeks later. 

Jesse stifled a small bemused smirk to himself. 

Wasn’t wearing sandals today. 

The crew of three bought their way into the warehouse through the guard working graveyard. Jesse’s usual guy called him for this job, and Jesse considered breaking the man’s jaw when he realized Shintaro was the second hired tail that night. His dealer was an untrustworthy snake, but the money was good for now. Jesse would find the opportunity to cut him off eventually. 

Shintaro pulls a set of thin metal tools from his jacket, flashlight between his teeth as he listens for the click that unlocked the door. Once they were in, he picked a second locked drawer for an envelope. Inconspicuous, manila envelope. 

“What is it?” Shintaro whispered as their dealer took it from his hands. 

“I didn’t pay you to ask questions.” He shot back, heading for the door when the overhead lights beamed on in an instant. Jesse and Shintaro instantly pulled their hoods down, masks all the way up. Footsteps filed into the empty warehouse space and closed in. A handful of goons and their leader caught the trio redhanded. 

“That doesn’t belong to you.” 

“Neither does it to you.” Jesse threw the first punch, much to Shintaro’s surprise. 

Fighting broke out, despite their forces being only three men deep. By the time Shintaro looked around, their other partner was gone, slipping out in the chaos. 

When he looked over at Jesse, he returned the same look, realizing they had to create a big enough distraction to make it out. Jesse immediately eyes the hydraulics holding up a rack full of goods, but the handle was jammed. Jesse misses a small knife swinging his way as he unjammed the handle. He reacts by catching it with his bare hand, then slamming the man into the floor with a kick. 

Shintaro arrives just in time to see the bloody knife clanging against the cement, the hydraulic unleashes long thin metal rods that tumble off the shelf falling onto the gang, which gives them enough diversion to make a run for it. 

A car pulls up. Their dealer came back to extract them, the tires caught in the gravel for a moment and ripped away before any of the men on foot had hope of catching them.  

“Thought I backstabbed you and left with the goods?” The man, much older than both Jesse and Shintaro, looked in the rear mirror. 

Shintaro shrugged then piped up first, “Look, I got paid to pick a lock. Fighting will be extra.”

He glanced over at Shintaro, “Fine.” 

But the man’s eyes were back on Jesse, who looked calm despite his dark eyes, “What about you?” 

“Lose my number.” Jesse replied, glancing at the driver once.  His voice was firm, quiet but drew people to listen in. 

“Come on. I’ll pay you for your hand.” The man bargained, pointing to Jesse’s bloody palm with his eyes. 

Shintaro hadn’t noticed his bleeding until the driver pointed it out. He quickly fumbled through the car for a towel and handed it over.

“That looks nasty. You should take him up on it.” Shintaro’s brown eyes were round, even innocent upon first glance. They were persuasive, only because they seemed genuine. He didn’t see the point in refusing additional payment out of stubborn principle. 

“I’ll get off here.” Jesse only said. And the man pulled over on the side of the main road. 

Shintaro pats the back of the driver's seat a few times to say bye before climbing out right after Jesse. He jogs to catch up to the other boy. 

“You’re so strange, ya know?” He said, “Jesse, right?”

“You didn’t have to get off either.” 

“I know, but I wanted to make sure you’d do something about your bleeding hand first.” 

Jesse scoffed lightly, “You don’t fight like you’ve never seen blood.” 

Shintaro chuckled this time, “You’re like an alien. What planet you from?” He chased ahead then began to walk backwards facing Jesse. 

“Tokyo.” 

Shintaro laughed harder. “You got jokes, I like it.” 

Jesse looked over, couldn’t resist cracking a small smile. 

Jesse was surprised when he saw Shintaro the third time, not because they crossed paths again but because Shintaro had called Jesse specifically for the job. When he asked, Shintaro admitted he got his number from their guy. 

But just when Shintaro expected resistance, Jesse always surprised him. He simply asked Shintaro when they started. 

Jesse proved to be good muscle to have on a job he couldn’t possibly clear alone. Shintaro could see from their first job together that Jesse was not only smart, but could not be stopped. 

Shintaro waited sitting on one of the plastic chairs outside the store as Jesse disappeared inside to buy themselves a celebratory drink. When he reemerged, the two cracked a cold beer over the job. Cutting out the middle man meant larger cuts for both of them. 

“You said you’re from Kanagawa?” Jesse asked after taking a sip of his beer. 

Shintaro hid a small smile, piqued by Jesse’s sudden question. “Right outside the city. But I grew up on these streets.” 

Jesse remembered the streets he grew up on. The streets he could never go back to, and he realized he didn’t want to ask anymore. Because he didn’t want to think about his own childhood. 

“You know how they say that it takes a village to raise a child?” Shintaro offered up more than he was asked because he had a feeling Jesse wasn’t the inquisitive type, “For me, that’s the baa-san at the market down the street, the auntie two streets over who ran the bakery, the nice doctor oji-san at the clinic around the corner…” 

His voice trailed off, a fond smile over his face, “They call me Shin-chan.” 

Jesse chuckled, registering exactly what Shintaro meant. “Sounds nice.” 

“It is.” Shintaro nodded, then looked Jesse in the eye, “You know, we make a pretty solid team.” 

“A bit pre-mature, don’t you think?” Jesse took another sip of his beer, the cold felt good against his sore knuckles. 

“Nah,” Shintaro hung his arm around Jesse’s shoulders, “I never misread people.” 

Jesse wanted to shake his head, a small laugh in disbelief. He was so naive, yet he genuinely couldn’t say Shintaro was wrong. 

“We could be someone someday.” Shintaro said, his tone wasn’t filled with dreams of grandeur that Jesse had grown to fear. He genuinely believed Shintaro could translate it into action. 

Jesse looked at Shintaro, “Us?” 

“Especially you.” Shintaro was serious.

Jesse grinned, a crooked one that betrayed himself. Shintaro could tell Jesse never thought about himself much.

“I already am someone.” Jesse shrugged it off, a large gulp of beer and an exhale. He became someone when he grew into the skin of Jesse and left Masaya in the ashes forever. 

“Huh?” Shintaro’s brows furrowed in confusion, refusing to indulge in Jesse’s riddle of an answer. 

Jesse sets his beer down and grabs the pack of bandaids from the plastic bag. He takes out one and hands it over to Shintaro, “Before it gets infected.” He gestured to the hairline cut on Shintaro’s temple. 

Shintaro took a sip of his beer and nearly rolled his eyes. 

Jesse took that as a sign to do it himself. He stood up and pushed Shintaro down in the chair, “Stay still. Or I’ll make you regret moving.” 

The boy immediately stilled, not because Jesse’s threat was effective but because he felt a bone-deep chill, deja vu that he could not name. His brain scanned its archives, chasing fragments and shadows for what it could have been until it finally came to him. 

The front door busted in with a loud crack before the gunshots began. Delayed screams. The smogged air smelled different. Shintaro remembered his tiny body being half carried, half pushed into a room. The men and women sprung up from the mattress, shoved past them barely clad when the noise broke out.

“Hide.” were the last words Shintaro remembered from his mother as she pushed him under the mattress and threw down the cover. He listened, kept still, but the more he did – the louder the sound was. A thud. Blood trickled into the wood floor, Shintaro crawled backwards as it flowed towards him until it slowed to a stagnant stop. 

He covered his ears. That was what he always did whenever he was told to hide. But this time was different. When all the noise ceased, no adult came to get him. He waited as long as he could, until the room grew bright, night had passed, and he finally crawled out.

His small steps quietly tracked down the hallway and the main living room space looked worse than he remembered. Glass shattered, the fluorescent lights leaked and soil from the green plants mixed with the thick viscous red painted on the tiles. 

Shintaro took it all in, even though he knew what none of it meant. He ducked when he heard footsteps. Light steps trod up the stairs and into the room. 

He waited, but nothing happened – so he peeked past the box he ducked behind. 

A boy. 

And immediately the boy caught him peeking and scurried over. Shintaro remembered his ash copper hair and his equally small hands that reached out to him. 

“You’re not supposed to be here.” 

Shintaro stared back. 

Masaya looked back past his shoulders, then back at Shintaro. He saw the boy’s round eyes, glistening with innocence despite the scene he lived through. He envied the boy’s dark hair, his angelic face, and Masaya immediately knew he had to hide him. From Tony. 

He pulled a large cardboard box that toppled over and emptied its contents, scattering it to make it seem natural. 

“Get in.” 

Shintaro hesitated, but Masaya urged him and he finally climbed in. 

“Stay still. Or I’ll make you regret moving.” 

Shintaro nodded.

“Close your eyes. Count to 100 very slowly, then come out.”

The lid to the box closed, but Shintaro could see through the popped handle holes. He lost the chance to say thank you before the boy scurried away. Minutes later, adults came. Scary looking adults. Guns. Tattoos. They kicked around for a few minutes before leaving. 

As soon as they left, Shintaro ran out and never looked back. 

Jesse’s hands were gentle as they applied the bandage to Shintaro’s forehead, but he didn’t feel any of that until Jesse was done. Shintaro didn’t trust many things more than his own instincts, and he had never felt one as strong as this since the day he sprinted for his life. 

It was Jesse. He just knew. 

Shintaro’s eyes snapped back into focus when Jesse’s arm caught his gaze as he pulled back from his face. 

“Your arm’s bleeding.” He lightly grabbed Jesse’s forearm, eyes on the laceration across his bicep. 

“Oh. You’re right.” Jesse glances over, pulling his arm back and looks over the cut, deep red soaked the tear in his sleeve. 

Shintaro watched him take his jacket off, looking over the sleeve with the tear now wet with blood marks. His eyes drop with disappointment, a small grunt as he tries to blot the hole with napkins. 

“Not my favorite jacket...” 

Shintaro’s eyes remain on the wound that looks worse now that he saw the angry flesh against the stained red cuff of Jesse’s white t-shirt. 

“Jes, you need stitches. Forget the jacket.” 

But Jesse barely registers Shintaro’s suggestion. He remembered Jesse’s bleeding palm from last time and only wondered if that was normal for him. 

Shintaro pulls the jacket out of Jesse’s hands, and Jesse’s eyes follow it to Shintaro. 

“What are you doing?” He asked, confused. 

“I’ll sew up your jacket. You just worry about patching yourself.” 

Jesse looked over at the cut again. It had stopped bleeding, scabbed by the blood itself along with fabric fiber and dirt that made the ridges red and angry. Some simple bandaging when he got home would do the trick he thought, then turned his attention to Shintaro.

“You? Sew?” He asked, now with genuine disbelief. 

“I’m excellent at sewing. Baa-san taught me. You can go ask her.” Shintaro defended. A simple tear in a sleeve was an easy patch. He could get it back to Jesse the next day.

Jesse didn’t look convinced.

“I promise.” Shintaro reassured, draping the jacket over his shoulder and dragging Jesse up. 

“Where are we going?” 

“Matsu-san’s. He’ll stitch that for you. I promise you won’t feel a thing. The guy’s a magician.” 

Jesse only scoffs as Shintaro dragged Jesse, both of them knowing that a butcher could stitch him and he wouldn’t utter a single complaint.  

Jesse didn’t know when he stopped thinking of Shintaro as temporary. Only that he did. 

*

*

*

The lazy morning bled into the afternoon as Shintaro waited for Kyomoto Taiga to attend the meeting he set up for them. His attitude was impatient as ever, inconvenienced to be there, and Shintaro would never quite understand Jesse’s indulgence in this man. 

“Oh don’t look so thrilled to be here.” Shintaro leaned against Jesse’s empty desk as Taiga sank into his usual seat when he hung out in Jesse’s office. 

“What could you possibly want from me?” Taiga knew Shintaro thought low of him, if he thought about him at all. 

Shintaro cut to the chase too, “If I have to clean up your mess, you’re going to lend a hand.” 

He knew Shintaro was referring to the missed handoff. Irritated, but Taiga knew he needed to comply with reasonable requests for Jesse’s sake, “How can I help?”

“You’re a fresh face on the street. All I need is you to sniff around. See what people are saying about this.” Shintaro felt a headache come on every time he thought about this growing issue, “We’ll decide what to do once we figure out what the sentiment is.” 

Taiga kicked up, pacing towards Shintaro, “Why can’t you send one of your henchmen? They’d be much better than me.”

Shintaro didn’t back down from Taiga’s weird intimidation tactic, “Oh they’ll be out there.” 

Taiga was stifled for once. 

“Your work is just for my own personal satisfaction. Jesse won’t punish you, but at least you can earn your stay.” 

Shintaro’s words carried an edge that Taiga wasn’t accustomed to, and he only scoffed in annoyance as left the room to get to work. 

Taiga fell right into character once he hit the streets, then the words he heard made him take a step back internally. A rumor whispered like a quietly burning wild fire. Taiga did what was best for Jesse and used his own ammunition to spread a bigger rumor — a lie that might lead to more bloodshed, but at least Jesse’s past was kept safe and contained. 

When Taiga reported back to Shintaro begrudgingly, he simply said everything was handled. The choice of words felt strange to Shintaro, and he prodded further for what Taiga heard. He recited back the usual street level chatter — who was in whose pants, who had beef with who, and the kind of noise that courses the usual crowds. 

Shintaro asked a final time if there was anything else, and Taiga only responded with an annoyed grunt as he left the room. 

Shintaro left the meeting feeling unsettled. He had been waiting to hear two key words, but he knew Taiga omitted it. 

“Blonde boy.” 

Hokuto shared the intel with Shintaro earlier that morning. He caught a weird scent of a rumor that he’d look into. Shintaro thought for sure Taiga would report back the same thing.

Taiga lied. But why? 

Shintaro decided he couldn’t let Jesse in on this rumor investigation yet, but he felt compelled to loop Jesse in on everything else. 

They sat in the plastic chairs in front of the store in their usual spot down the street from baa-san’s market, peeling back a fruit-flavored popsicle. Melon flavored for Shintaro, Milk flavored for Jesse — their usual. 

“You called me here to eat popsicles?” Jesse’s question was rhetorical, but Shintaro appreciates his frankness. 

“You don’t like them?” He teases.

“Don’t get me wrong. They’re delicious.” Jesse smiles as he savors his, but Shintaro takes a bite out of his. 

He notices Jesse looked more worn than usual, and it was hard to tear Jesse down, whether it was for a lack of effort or not. The bags under his eyes cast a larger shadow than usual, his complexion a shade past his usual hue. What Jesse got tangled into wasn’t Shintaro’s business, but he knew it hadn’t been kind on him. 

He was hesitant to bestow bad news after seeing his friend, but did it out of principle anyways. 

“We called a meeting two nights ago.” 

Jesse finished up the last of his popsicle, not particularly shocked by the event. 

“Besides Hokuto, the other two could only be appeased by an investigation.” Shintaro explained, “I said I’d look into it personally.” 

“The dead guy?” Jesse asked, leaning over his elbows on his thighs, “A lieutenant too I heard.” 

Shintaro nodded, he was glad Jesse already understood the depth of the situation at hand. 

Jesse rubbed his eyes, squeezing his nose bridge with his glasses between his fingers. His eyes refocused and he put his glasses back on, turning to Shintaro with a hand on his shoulder. 

“I trust your judgment.” 

To Shintaro, this meant Jesse was going to remain hands-off. 

This meant Jesse had problems larger than the one at hand, but what could possibly trouble them more? 

He grew worried for his friend, but before he could say anything Jesse spoke again. 

“Thanks, Shin.”

Jesse knew Shintaro didn’t have to report the politics between the lieutenants back to him. In fact it was in his favor to keep it from Jesse, to keep the powers in check. But when Jesse asked Shintaro why he always gave these heads up, he would only grin and admit that he thought Jesse deserved to know. 

The topic didn’t linger on work for much longer before Shintaro felt relief after informing Jesse. Jesse didn’t even have to do anything, just the shared knowledge alone anchored Shintaro. He threw his arm around Jesse and effectively dragged Jesse to the bar with him for the night. 

Drinking broke Jesse’s habit of holding everything in, and Shintaro felt Jesse needed a night of rest from himself. He would watch over Jesse instead, take a shift at Jesse’s restless mind. 

His eyes opened to the same pale blue walls and the sound of the fan blades overhead. The strong breeze on his bare back while his face was buried in the pillow for another groan before he crawled up from the bed. Jesse was only glad he had enough self control to not go to Hokuto last night, but that was probably much to Shintaro’s credit. 

He washed up, had a handful of sink water and got dressed in last night’s clothes. Jesse wandered down the familiar musty hallway to the front desk where he knew Maria took his watch for safekeeping, but she wasn’t there. He grunted, walked around the counter and found it himself. 

The watch clasp clicked in place and Jesse took it upon himself to steal a mint from the bowl she kept behind the counter. Rude knocks on the counter caught his attention when he bent over to toss the plastic wrapper. Jesse popped up from behind the counter to find two men standing there. 

Jesse stood up straight, “Can I help you?” He didn’t mind tending the counter for a minute while Maria was away. 

The man shrunk a bit in Jesse’s full stature, but postured himself back up, “You fucking deaf? Send the maid service to my room.” 

He smiled back, courteous enough, “We don’t have that here.” 

“Well that’s not my fucking problem,” The other man takes the cup of pens and knocks it over, spilling over onto the floor. 

Jesse’s eyes narrowed for a moment, regretting and realizing he should’ve just walked away. He was on bare threads as is. 

To make matters worse, a new crowd walked past the two men at the counter. One of them bumped shoulders with the angry man at the counter, accidental but igniting a fuse that was already fuming. One bump turned into a disgruntled shove, yelling quickly followed and he just wanted to get out of there.

All for one fucking mint. 

Jesse sighed, a low annoyed tsk and he walked into the chaos in annoyance, grabbing a man at random. He threw the man against the wall. His eyes trained the man, glaring him into stillness. Jesse showed the man a pen he picked up from the floor then planted it into the dry wall beside his head. 

“Show some respect.” Jesse said calmly, “Please.” 

Another one took a stand and swung at Jesse, but he kicked him back with ease. Everyone froze as he walked out, but he figured these scare tactics always worked on this type. He even let out a low chuckle as he walked down the street, remembering how years ago he practiced throwing darts at the pub with Shintaro for moments like these.

Jesse pushed into the corner store to buy a bottle of water. As he passed down the aisle, a little boy caught his eye. He glances but does a quick double take as he watches the boy hide two breads in his jacket, eyes darting and nervous before quickly running out. The cashier was tending to the line and missed the small child, who was no older than six. Jesse’s heart twinges. He knew. Kids that age steal candy. They steal ice cream. 

They don’t steal bread unless they are starving. 

He paid for his water and gave the cashier the entire bill, claiming he forgot to pay for something the last time he came. The cashier looked at him in confusion, but accepted it in the end. 

The child stays on his mind much longer than he intended. Jesse knew it reminded him of himself, even though he was much better at shoplifting than the child he saw. Or maybe so he thought. It lingers in his subconscious until he finds himself at the perimeter of a familiar park, staring at a familiar silhouette on the swing. 

The dusk was brilliant, bright orange in a surreal way that Jesse was convinced it must’ve been playing tricks on his mind. 

He had no choice but to approach when their eyes met. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be there.” Jesse stops at a distance, looking down at his feet instead of meeting Juri’s eyes. 

But Juri softens silently. And in the silence, Jesse looks back up and discovers the Juri he didn’t expect to see ever again. 

“It’s okay. Sit down.” He invites Jesse to sit beside him, “You always liked that swing.” 

Jesse smiles, small and nostalgic. He sat down beside Juri, the swing so low that his long legs practically folded in front of his chest. 

“This seat has the better view of the sunset.” Jesse pointed to the gap between the two buildings ahead of the park, the sliver of orange squeezing from the edges. 

Juri smiled, “I know.” And he let Masaya have it anyway

“Right.” Jesse remembered how Juri knew everything. Things he never even imagined he knew. That’s how Juri always was to him. 

A small silence fell between them, and despite the messy mix of everything between them, it wasn’t a grueling silence. It was just quiet, gentle, and being next to each other comforted them more than they could speak.

When Jesse looked down at the mulch that kicked under his feet, Juri only saw the boy he used to be. It was hard to imagine him existing in that large frame, but in that swingset, both the sun and his gaze low, Juri could almost see it. Before Koki vanished. Before Yugo left them. Before Jesse’s hair was ever even blonde. 

His lips twitched, weakened for a moment before he stiffened up. 

“I’m sorry, Ma-Jesse.” Juri corrected himself, his voice lost the edge from that rainy night, “I’m sorry I shot you.” His eyes glanced down at Jesse’s side. He didn’t dare ask if it hurt, if it still bled, if it ached when he moved. 

“I wasn’t trying to kill you.”

Jesse scoffs, a low huff from his lips. A gentle smile spread, a disarming tease. 

“With your aim, you couldn’t if you tried.” 

Juri meets Jesse’s eyes. For the first time he takes them in. He begins to fill in the gaps beyond resentment, studying the way time chiseled Jesse’s face –  the hard years it must’ve taken for Jesse to grow up the way he did. 

But before Juri could bring the thought to fruition, a low buzzing breaks him out of his thoughts. 

Jesse excused himself and took a few steps away to answer the call. Juri didn’t mean to stare, but he did. The way his brows tightened into knots then released, the ease and charm which he talked with. Then Jesse turned back, giving Juri a look before leaving on business, and the thoughts dissipated as soon as they came. 

Juri couldn’t name the feelings he felt. Just that it grew heavy again. Then it sank back where it came from. 

*

*

*

The apartment Jesse shared with Taiga was much larger than their first home, but it only enabled Taiga’s bad habit of scattering his stuff all over the living room. 

He stopped in front of a sock, picked it up and before it found its home in the laundry basket, Jesse found another one that just barely missed the basket. He sighed, but found himself in a good enough mood to tidy up without much fuss. By the time he made it to the kitchen, Jesse found the sink full of dirty dishes and washed them. Taiga showed up to nag about Jesse eating his dinner cold, that it was bad for his already suffering digestion because he ate so irregularly. He popped the leftovers in the microwave before shuffling out with a soda in hand. 

Jesse scoffed, amused. What gang leader has time to properly dine every meal? 

When it finally finished in the microwave, he didn’t find it in himself to bring it over to the table, so he ate his food over the counter top, blowing on it aggressively to cool it before letting it tumble around in his mouth. 

Taiga didn’t even bat an eye as the kitchen light flickered off and footsteps shuffled towards him. He set his soda down just as Jesse’s soft hair landed on his thigh. Jesse closed his eyes briefly and snuggled like a dog, slippers falling off his feet as he curled up his long legs onto their couch. 

He briefly laid on his back, finger running over Taiga’s manga cover. 

“The…Phantom…” Jesse’s eye tracked each character as he sounded out the book title, stuck on the final word.

Taiga’s other hand ran through Jesse’s soft hair, a soft chuckle, “Thief.” He quietly muttered.

“Thief.” Jesse repeated. Then again under his breath. 

Taiga smiled, looking past his page and down at Jesse for a moment, “Good job.” His compliment was genuine, and Jesse looked pleased at Taiga’s words, turned in and he laid there quietly, thinking about his day. 

Jesse thought about the child, the swing, the park, even the sunset. He danced around thinking about Juri until he couldn’t. Juri’s apology softened a corner of his heart, a place he no longer visited easily. 

Taiga senses Jesse’s quietness and his hand instinctively pats his hair. Then he remembered the bandage, “Jesse?” 

“Hm?” He replies with a small delay. 

“Do you want me to change your bandage?” Taiga set his manga book down entirely, gazing down at the man on his lap. 

“I did already.” He mutters back, “Myself. I did, at the office.” 

And before Taiga could question Jesse, he continued. He didn’t want Taiga to misunderstand again. 

“Some assholes jumped me when I was further out and I tore it open.” Jesse explained, “And I didn’t want to walk home bloody.” His voice trailed off without Taiga noticing. 

“Oh? What were you doing all the way out there?” Taiga asked, but no answers came. 

“Jesse?” He looked down at his lap and Jesse had fallen asleep. His eyes still fluttered and pulsed, but his breathing was even and Taiga only stayed still as he picked his book back up after dialing down the lamp some more. 

Taiga thought about the rumors he heard days ago. They scared him. If Taiga hadn’t shut it down, maybe Jesse could never sleep soundly, again. 

Jesse told everyone to hold their breaths quiet and their weapons tight. He didn’t know if it was the right technique, but that’s all he could focus on every time he held a gun. 

This was the night they bargained everything. At the end of it, they would either own the ports or lose everything. 

The air smelled salty, but also like rot. Only the sound of water filled the gaping silence until a single headlight cut through the night, startling everyone into clenching every muscle. 

The shipment.

Jesse looked over to the handful of men hunched behind the adjacent container, and even in the dark he could almost see them mentally rehearsing how to remove the gun safety and shoot. Guns felt heavy in the hands trained on knives. 

Jesse quietly exhaled and trained his eyes back on the truck that silently pulled right up to the dock. Muffled exchanges between people. Jesse threw up his hand to indicate he would give the signal. 

The cargo door slid up in the quiet night, the sound of rolling dollies against metal boards under their feet. Two more cars pulled up, their headlights illuminated the entire dock. Port authorities. Jesse peeked his head out, paperwork was handed over along with what he presumed as cash. The man lit a cigarette for the officers and the officers strolled off for a smoke. 

Jesse held his breath and counted minutes. His safety unlatched. All his people around him heard it loud and clear. 

Jesse never signaled the charge, his long strides and gun shots were the signal. His body moved before his mind, and there was no turning back. Men charged in firing, boxes scattered. Glass shattered against the metal board as the ground grew slippery with flammable liquid. People slipping, brutal misfires, gruesome screams he couldn’t distinguish. Someone dropped their gun and never picked it up again. They’d rather risk their knuckles than shoot another bullet. 

Jesse couldn’t remember who he took out, just that he reloaded once. Then one of his men dropped and he took the gun and tucked his own. Firearms were hard to come by.

He rushed into the truck when he realized one of the goons was hiding behind the boxes. Jesse dragged the man out by the collar and through constant pleading, a bullet marked his last word and Jesse moved on. He circled to the front of the truck. One bullet through the windshield. The horn blared as the body slumped against it. When he ran out of bullets, he switched to his knife and tucked that gun away in the small of his back. 

Jesse didn’t remember how long. Just that the yelling eventually quieted. He stumbled back a step, throat dried and heart racing. He wiped the sweat away from his eyes with the back of his hand, but all he smelled was the iron of the blood on his hands. 

He steadied his hand to dial Shintaro, a quiet exhale as he sat down on an empty crate. 

“It worked.” 

A single matchstick lit up the entire dock in its wake when Jesse was done. 

The bright flames choked dark smoke up into the clear night. Hokuto felt the heat against his face even from his vantage nearby. Fighting had broken out by the time he arrived, yet none of the blood drew attention the way one man did. The man did not hesitate. His bullets were efficient. His knife was even more ruthless. 

Monster. 

Hokuto resigned from his position to report back.  

Dawn came and left by the time everyone rounded back up. Shintaro collected what was left of their ammunition supply in a shoe-box-sized tin container and then everyone’s firearms were lined up neatly on the table in rows. Everyone was afraid to look around to find who they wouldn’t see, but Jesse saw everything clearly from the front of the room. 

Shintaro returned by Jesse’s side at the front before Jesse spoke. He didn’t reiterate their purpose, and he was never good at motivational speeches. 

“Lay low. Hide.” Jesse’s voice wasn’t loud, but it always commanded people to listen.

 “If you don’t get the signal to gather,” He paused, “then it means we failed. And you forget everything here and move on.” 

Jesse thought about the gamble they took and the weight of the risk was heavy on him, on Shintaro, but it didn’t mean everyone needed to bear the outcomes the same. Shintaro ran after Jesse when the meeting ended, throwing an arm around his shoulder. 

“Hey, come on. Let’s take the victory for what it is.” Shintaro was either eternally the optimist, or he knew someone needed to balance him out. 

Jesse looked down at the hand and smiled a small tired smirk. 

It took too many years to reach this point: countless jobs they ran over the years only to hit the invisible ceiling and finally learn where all the “fat” was being skimmed off to. Who got to raise the new shining buildings, who got rich, and who got crushed. It didn’t matter if they wanted to remain small. Once the gang who controlled the Yokohama ports learned about them, it was only a matter of time before they were driven off their own streets. Shintaro had convinced Jesse they needed to own the ports to survive. Jesse traced leads and followed cash flows. Shintaro began recruitment; a band of misfits at best. Disgruntled old goons, career criminals, opportunists, only briefly united to bring down the Old Lady atop it all. 

And it all came to this crucial night. One stupid gamble. A shipment that held precious cargo along with their fates. Jesse didn’t want to think about whether he was lucky enough to rise from the ashes twice. Because his answer would’ve been “no”. 

Weeks go by. 

Their manpower spread thin and laid low in hiding until word seeped through the grapevine. Jesse arrived at the meeting first before people slowly trickled in. Shintaro arrived at the end, shutting the heavy gates behind him after clearing the perimeter. He stood at the back of the room, leaning against the gate. The musty warehouse smelled like still water after the rain, and he could hear it in Jesse’s step. The irregular staccato in how his foot hit the puddles, one leg dragging slightly behind the other. Shintaro straightened, huffed, and felt anger – but more like an annoyance. They came for Jesse afterall. 

Jesse only asked if anyone wanted a gun. They were going to storm the main office. 

Blades were pulled out of pockets. People found bats, pipes, and finally a few opted for a gun. 

Everyone held their breath waiting for instructions, but Jesse only said one thing. 

“Only rule. No children.” Then he smiled a rare grin. It inspired confidence, Shintaro could tell. 

When the room cleared out, Shintaro made it to the front. 

“I was waiting for your ‘we ride at dawn’ speech.” Shintaro teased, but Jesse only chuckled. 

“Since when do I give speeches?” He lightly scoffed, a rhetorical question while slouching down against the edge of a barrel. 

Shintaro looked down, then back up at Jesse, “They came?” Vague, but Jesse knew exactly what he meant. The limp was hard to hide, the bruised jaw was a dead giveaway. 

Jesse nodded. Then he paused, a smile cracked wide open on his face, “Sure did.” 

Shintaro briefly looked bewildered, unsure whether to laugh along or be worried, “You know, I’ve never seen anyone happier to get their ass handed to them.” 

“The fact that I’m alive and standing means we predicted everything correctly.” Jesse’s sigh of relief was heavier than he expected, but he felt lighter with that weight off his shoulder even if it temporarily rested in his bruised ribs instead. 

—

Controlling the main office was an easy feat. Jesse knew that much. This was the hub of the operation, but it was never going to be the place that was most guarded. A decrepit off-white building, old in both exterior and interior. Jesse knew this kind of office. He grew up running up and down the steps of one when the elevator moved too slow and the suits scared him too much to loiter. 

Jesse knew. No one hot for revenge was going to aim for the accountants and staff they kept on payroll. They would aim to bleed, to hurt, but Jesse aimed to annihilate the business as it exists. 

He wiped his blade with the inside of his sleeve, trading it for the gun he brought to the occasion. Jesse knew his chamber held two remaining bullets. He saved them for this moment. 

An elderly woman stood at the window, cigar between her fingers. When she finally turned toward Jesse, he saw the head full of grays, permed into voluminous curls. Her red lipstick matched the large ring she adorned. Her smile was sickening, Jesse knew that smirk. Self-righteous, greedy, brutal. 

“I was advised to not underestimate you. Quite a while back.” She finally said. He expected her voice to sound like sandpaper, but instead it was smooth and calming, like her age spared only her vocal cords. 

“You’re the Madame?” Jesse wanted to make sure. 

But she continued after a long whiff of her cigar, attitude resigned but too confident for someone staring down the figurative barrel. 

“I’m not surprised that someone young as you want this.” The woman paced towards Jesse, “Everyone thinks they can do better until they are in this seat.” She scoffed, the puff of smoke filled the air with a sweet woody scent.

She looked out the window again at the night sky, up toward the moon. She let the cigar burn between her fingers for a minute too long. Jesse paused. Then she turned to face him. Her lips barely parted when Jesse raised his gun. A bullet pierced between her eyes, and she fell onto the tiled floor with a sudden crumple. 

Jesse stomped out the burning cigar. It felt right killing her at that moment, knowing he too would’ve liked to look at the night sky one last time. 

His footsteps clicked against the steps despite his heavy leg as he made it down to the main floor. Jesse ordered his men to bring up everyone they rounded up. 

When the personnel filed in, they stood in a row against the wall opposite the window. They stared directly at the body still on the floor, cold, lifeless and without dignity. Jesse’s eyes scanned the group. It was obvious who did paperwork and who worked the streets. 

“I’m going to ask only once.” Jesse sat on a chair across from the line-up, gun between his fingers. Only he knew there was only one bullet remaining, “Who is the head accountant?” 

A meager man raised his hand, legs shaking uncontrollably. His face was a pale hue of green, eyes trying their best to avert from the gruesome sight.

“Eyes on me.” Jesse redirected, commanding. 

“Y-yes, sir.” 

Jesse stood up, “You’re going to stay and hand over all of the financials tonight. Is that going to be a problem?” 

His words were clear, but the man looked nervous, if it was possible to grow worse than when he first entered the room. His head dropped, Jesse tilted curiously with him. Then the cowering man’s eyes darted, briefly towards his left as his grip grew tight. Then again. Jesse followed the line of sight, past several equally nervous guys until he landed on the taller one of the line.

He wore a suit buttoned up to the very top, a modest pierced ear, and short spiky dark hair. Jesse could practically smell it on him. The blood. 

He raised his gun and shot the man in the arm, before taking a step toward the accountant. Jesse stood between the man he shot and him, blocking his view entirely. 

“Don’t worry about him.” Jesse said, loud enough for the room to hear, “Do as you’re told. And I will free your family from him.” 

His eyes grew wide, in genuine disbelief but Jesse didn’t look like he was kidding around. Before he could utter another word, one of Jesse’s men escorted him out to get to work. Shintaro followed them. 

Jesse turned to the bleeding man that he spent his only bullet on. The man groaned between his teeth while clutching his arm. 

Jesse lowered himself to his level, narrowed his eyes. 

“If I find out you’re holding more innocent families, I will pluck off each finger.” Jesse pointed using the tip of his gun, “One for each family you hurt.” 

Jesse turned on his heel to leave but he passed someone in the lineup who caught his attention. He stopped at the heel of a skinny man. 

Jesse glanced at him, studying him briefly. He was no man at all. 

“How old are you?” 

“15.” 

He felt his heart squeezed for a moment. 

“Get out of here. Don’t come back.” 

His words were cold despite the boy’s enthusiastic attitude. Even when dismissed, he still argued to stay. He wanted to work for Jesse, but Jesse was long gone, not entertaining even the idea for a split moment. 

Shintaro circled back as Jesse exited the building, reminding him that this wasn’t over. Between everything they seized and all the people they rounded up over the following weeks, there was one man who never showed up. It made Shintaro uneasy, and he wondered out loud why Jesse seemed calm about it. 

Jesse quietly denied. He was just as nervous, but he recognized the reality of it.

“You don’t catch the boogeyman. He comes to you.”

Hokuto would surface eventually. 

*

*

*

A small puff of white billowed between Jesse’s lips as he walked down the steps of the empty building, vacant for the last few years. He tucked a small notepad into his jacket, as he roamed the empty main floor. He found the previous office distasteful and sought out to make this one his own. 

Jesse crushed the cigarette under his foot when the view outside caught his eye. Through the frosted glass, he could see the speckles of white fluttering from the night sky. He walked up to the window and swiped it once with his palm; the icy glass cleared for a moment. A glimmer so brief Jesse thought he imagined it. He ducked before his mind could decide. 

A streak of red trickled down his neck.

The assassin looked like the exact opposite of a boogeyman. 

Jesse couldn’t pick this man out of a crowd. 

Between the plain dark parka and the old khakis he wore, he had zero presence and it was chilling. Hokuto’s dark locks fell over equally dull eyes that only sharpened when he lunged at his prey. Jesse only saw for a flash when he sprung up, swiping at Jesse fast enough to make him flinch only to slash under his kneecaps. 

Jesse saw the man go low, so he kicked against the instinct to buckle at the bleeding legs. Hokuto tumbled back a few large steps before bracing himself. In the moonlit room, the boogeyman looked less like an assassin and more like a lost soldier. Only for a second, Jesse could sense it. 

He was now bleeding from too many places, neck hot with pain, knees aching. But if he moved suddenly he was sure Hokuto could kill him in a blink. In a quick succession of attacks, Hokuto backs Jesse into a wall. Jesse took the opportunity to bash the assassin against the wall with sheer strength. He briefly falls in disorientation, but recovers with a knife fake-out. Jesse falls for the first knife, and gets a second knife planted into his side. Jesse’s pain arrives one beat too late, and in that beat, he was able to pin Hokuto up by the chin against the cold concrete wall. 

His eyes widened, Jesse could tell the man doesn’t lose often. 

Jesse’s breath shook, the pain began to settle in, and he dropped Hokuto. He steadied himself and walked towards the door. Hokuto instantly reached for his dropped knife, springing up to finish the job. 

Jesse only spun fast enough to brace himself. A deep gash sliced across his forearm. With his only good arm, he punched the man in the gut as hard as he could, knocking the wind out of Hokuto long enough to drop his knife and fall to the ground. 

This time Jesse picks up Hokuto’s knife. He studies it, swings it around before pointing it at the man on the ground.

“Got any more of these waiting for me?” 

Hokuto scowled. 

“You don’t have to kill me anymore, you know.” Jesse said, quietly.

Hokuto looked up at Jesse, jaw tight. 

“You’re free.” 

Jesse dropped the knife. It didn’t matter whether he held it or not. Hokuto could charge at him right now with nothing and he’d fall right over. 

“I’m not worth your time.” Jesse finally said, and even though his words grew increasingly breathless, Hokuto felt the weight of the meaning no less. 

He held Jesse’s gaze long enough to know he was being truthful. 

The assassin gracefully leapt to his feet and vanished. Jesse’s body felt the pressure exhausting immediately. He knew if the assassin doubled back he was over. 

But Hokuto began to question himself. 

Doubt his revenge directive.

Why hadn’t he killed his target? 

*

*

*

Jesse always hated winter, and the trail of red he left in the white snow only reminded him why winter always left him feeling exposed. 

The neon sign flashed, and Jesse looked up. The snowflakes crusted on his eyelashes, but his blink was slow. His vision narrowed on the vacancy sign before he stumbled in, one arm clutching the other against his side with the knife protruding. The counter was tall considering his height, and even though it was plastered with a faded plastic film, Jesse didn’t want to ruin it with his blood. He held his breath as he unclenched his arm a moment, finger shaking as he rang the bell. 

A head of salt and pepper hair looked up, frowning so briefly before sighing. She didn’t ask Jesse any questions, and he didn’t know how to answer anyways. He stood, shaking no matter how hard he resisted, as he waited for the receptionist to hand him a key from the hooks behind her. Her nametag read “Maria”.

“Right around the corner.” Maria glanced at the knife, only for a second,“Extra towels in the hamper by the vending machines. Help yourself.” 

Then she sat back down and Jesse turned away. 

“Sheets cost extra if I have to replace them.” She sighed, turning her attention back to her screen, “Try not to die in my room.” 

Jesse nodded quietly. 

Jesse remembered focusing on the pale blue walls of the room as he tightened his belt around his arm as much as he could with his teeth. He breathed as evenly as he could manage in short pulses then he clenched his jaw. The knife slowly peeled out of his side, and his next breath came out jagged and wrong. He quickly pressed the towel he prepared, but only watched it soak through with ease. His legs were cramped against the bathtub, and the cut on his knee began to hurt when stretched open like that. The back of his head rested against the bathroom tile and he closed his eyes for a moment. Jesse saw Hokuto’s face. And he couldn’t help wondering why an assassin like him didn’t finish the job. 

He reached for his phone on the bathroom sink. His fingers fished for it while crumpled up in the bathtub. There was only one number Jesse could dial and he felt the room spin before he found the button for it. 

“Shin.” Jesse used his best normal voice. 

“Jes? What’s wrong?” But Shintaro always knew. 

“I, uh. I’m fine, but can you come…” His voice trailed off for a moment, “Motel on 6th…Bring the first aid kit if you can.” 

His hand slipped further down his face. He could hear the shuffling from Shintaro’s end as he barraged him with questions that Jesse only managed to answer because he knew Shintaro was coming. 

Jesse heard the door click open. He knew he locked it. Front desk must’ve let Shintaro have a spare. 

Shintaro immediately found him in the bathroom, still clutching onto the blood soaked towel and managed a weak smile. 

“Jesus Christ, that’s a lot of blood.” Shintaro crouched down, tossing open the kit he brought, “Why are you in the tub?”

His lips now pale white, “Um. Sheets. Cost extra.” 

“Dumbass.” 

Shintaro scoffed under his breath and Jesse managed a small chuckle. 

He wanted to drag Jesse to Matsu-san, but Jesse had promised Shintaro that he’d pay the Butcher a visit the next morning so he had no choice but to take Jesse’s words for it. 

Stitching Jesse was easy. Not because Shintaro was a skilled seamster but because Jesse always stayed incredibly still no matter how he weaved the hooked needle. He doesn’t know the right words to ever ask the question why. 

Shintaro only knew how to sew, how to leave Jesse alone with the tools to survive. And that was it. 

*

*

*

When Hokuto doubled back to the building later that night to reclaim the knife he lost, the footsteps had been erased by the snow, but the bright stains of blood didn’t vanish so easily. 

The knife spun between his fingers as Hokuto stared up at the neon motel sign. He wondered about Jesse, if he managed to save himself, if he was meant to be alive, and if Hokuto walked in now, if he’d be able to finish the job. 

Hokuto watched the motel from the shadows for three days before Jesse appeared again. He looked good for what their encounter was, but he looked poorly rested for a man who didn’t leave the room for three days. A shadow of a stubble grew and he was scarcely clad for someone walking around in the winter. Hokuto made mental notes he hadn’t before when he had already marked him for a dead man. 

The next morning he continued staking out and a truck caught Hokuto’s attention instead. A crew began to move furniture into the building across from the motel — the one he perched in on the night he planned to kill Jesse. Hokuto felt the strange perplexity over Jesse only growing when he realized he was making this his headquarters. The building he nearly died in. 

Hokuto stalked Jesse quietly from the shadows over the following weeks, learning behavior that he couldn’t reconcile with what he knew. When Jesse came across a group of children at the playground late at night, he tagged them from a distance silently until they reached home — the brothel north of 8th. It dissolved days later. He found out the market around the block had been skimming off credit card data to pay for their upcharged imports then Jesse dropped their extra tariffs without another word. Hokuto watched with his own eyes as he bled through his own shirt fighting for their main street back so people didn’t have to route around those blocks any longer. 

Jesse didn’t care about the drugs they still moved on his streets, the brothels that still existed, and the port bribery that still occurred regularly. Hokuto was positive that this man was not an upstanding citizen. 

He was simply deeply troubled by how human Jesse was. And the words he spoke to Hokuto echoed in his mind, night after night. Hokuto imagined freedom at one point. It did not look like this, but maybe he was wrong. 

The moonlight reflecting on the metal of his knife reminded him of Jesse. Hokuto polished it relentlessly whenever he couldn’t sleep. And lately his knives had been absolutely pristine. 

*

*

*

Jesse told Shintaro he picked this office for the view, only to get a confused look in return. The third floor was hardly tall enough for an extraordinary view, but Jesse liked looking at the blinking neon signs that lined the street ahead of him. When the streets came alive at night, he felt like he could disappear into them.

Jesse pushed into his empty office, shut the door behind himself and a deep exhale parted his lips briefly. This job called for so much more than he prepared for. The bright pink reflected into his empty office, illuminating a neon hue onto everything. He left the lights off even during his night visits. It felt more relaxing. Jesse tossed his jacket on the sofa and walked straight ahead toward the large window, cracking it only a smidge to let the night air seep in. 

His hand dug in his pocket for the crumpled pack of cigarettes, until he realized they were in his jacket. Jesse turned and met a blade at his throat. 

He glanced down at it, then up at the owner of the knife. 

A light incredulous scoff, “I began to think you left.” 

Hokuto’s expression remained unchanged, but his mental grip on the knife tightened. Jesse spoke to him like Hokuto wasn’t holding a knife. 

Like his blood hadn’t been all over Hokuto’s hands the last they met.

Jesse’s eyes were duller than the last Hokuto had seen him up close. His shoulders were tense. He didn’t look defeated — he just looked worn. 

Even against the neon reflections, Hokuto could tell he caught the man in front of him at a bad time. His edge was off, and he looked disengaged. Killing him right now wouldn’t be fair, Hokuto thought, yet his hands continued to steady the knife at his throat. 

Jesse’s words interrupted Hokuto’s thoughts.

“I was beginning to hope you moved on.” 

He studied the assassin, realizing he had been waiting here likely since nightfall. Hokuto stood like someone who was wound up, ready to terminate obstacles. Maybe he had no other defaults. 

Jesse laughed — soft, tired — and Hokuto’s stance loosened before he could catch himself, surprising even himself.

Jesse realized it was naive for him to believe that. It was hypocritical, even by his standards. People like them don’t move on.

“Why?” Hokuto uttered, his voice hoarse but deep. 

Jesse let the silence linger between them while he pondered, yet he was just circling the ugly truth.

“Because this job will kill you some day.” 

Maybe it was the night and his bone-deep exhaustion for a job that he was definitely in over his head for.

“And I don’t want that.” Jesse said without his usual reservation. 

Blue and red lights of sirens swept past, the siren dopplering down the street. Jesse turned his head in concern. His head moved without regard to the knife, but Hokuto moved faster, retracting the blade in an instant. 

When Jesse turned his attention back to Hokuto, he saw a flash of fear in Hokuto. Or maybe it was confusion. His eyes trained on Jesse, surprised by his own action in a way that made even Jesse uncomfortable.

Jesse would never quite find out.

He only stared at the weapon left behind on his desk as Hokuto walked out without another word. He picked up the knife, polished so clean it refracted even in the dark night.

Jesse ran his fingers over the etching on the handle, two clean kanji characters he only assumed read “Hokuto”.

Shintaro walked down the empty morning streets. Even though the clouds hid away the sun, the crisp morning air still sobered up any remaining fatigue he felt from the night before. Swinging his breakfast in one hand and the other hand in his pocket, he unlocked the building and skipped up the office steps. 

He nearly threw a punch when he found a man already inside. But once Shintaro got closer, he realized that would be a bad idea. The man entered the locked building without leaving a trace, but parked himself in front of Jesse’s office. He looked up briefly at Shintaro, then remained silent. Shintaro could smell the danger on him, but he knew chasing him away would be tough. 

People trickled in and out, and the man only watched every movement around him, eyes sharp like a hawk. Nobody dared getting close, and even Shintaro stepped around the man cautiously the first day. 

Then Shintaro found out this was the boogeyman. The assassin. The Hokuto he’d heard much about. 

Jesse didn’t show up at the office that entire day. 

Hokuto reported in like clockwork day after day, even if Jesse never gave him any assignments. Eventually, Shintaro began to wave “good morning” to the statue in front of Jesse’s office every morning. He didn’t know Jesse’s plan for a valuable asset like Hokuto, but his trust in Jesse assured him that it wasn’t something he needed to interfere in. 

Stabilizing their newly usurped power proved to be a monstrous feat. The streets crawled with rumors, stray factions eyeing their new leaders, and shutting them down felt like whack-a-mole on some days. Even if Shintaro duplicated himself, he would still need another 24 hours to his day. He could only imagine Jesse hadn’t fared much better. Logistics was straightforward compared to the kind of people Jesse dealt with. Shintaro almost wished Jesse would bring Hokuto with him to the meetings, even if as a bodyguard to posture his power so he didn’t have to return the way he always did. He didn’t know why; he always felt like every trip to Roppongi emptied Jesse out in ways that he’d never seen before – both physically and emotionally.

Finally one day Shintaro watched Hokuto walk through the door behind Jesse when he gathered the lieutenants for a strategy meeting. He caught the recruits from the former regime glance at each other when Jesse announced Hokuto would be taking over the seat for the traitor they crossed off.

Quiet protests and doubts surfaced. Even Hokuto stared at Jesse in a rare moment of emotion – confusion. 

But Jesse asserted to Hokuto, “You show up every day. Punctuality. That’s not for nothing.” 

Then he asked Shintaro to show Hokuto the ropes, and the decision was final. 

When the meeting ended, Jesse was left alone in the room, leaning over the window with a cigarette between his fingers. The cold air felt good on his face; stuffy rooms suffocated him.

Jesse briefly closed his eyes while exhaling a puff of smoke, but opened them instantly when footsteps came up on him. 

“No way you were gonna let me sneak up on you.” Shintaro teased, approaching Jesse from the side. 

Jesse smirked, “I know the sound of your footsteps.” 

Shintaro stopped next to Jesse, leaning against the ledge and the cigarette between Jesse’s fingers catches his eye. He takes it out of his hand, takes a puff from it and confiscates it from his friend.

Jesse scowled when realized Shintaro wasn’t planning to give it back.

“Hokuto…” Shintaro started, and Jesse knew Shintaro was here for that. 

“You don’t believe me either?” He replied, clapping his hands together to dust off the scent of the smoke. 

Shintaro didn’t reply. But his non-reply was sufficient. 

Jesse’s voice was soft, not tender – just exhausted. 

“We’re spread too thin. Shin, I don’t have a choice.” 

“If you believe him, then I do too.” Shintaro smiled, walking the remainder of the smoke over to the ash tray. The spark crushed against the dull glass and Jesse felt his heart settle. 

He felt just a bit safer with Shintaro beside him. 

*

*

*

Hokuto begrudgingly accepted his new position and stopped reporting to the office every morning. Jesse resumed his regular schedule of dropping in daily and everything returned to their chaotic normal. 

Hokuto shadowed Shintaro for a week. At the end of that week, Shintaro suddenly informed Hokuto he wasn’t going to meet him again tomorrow. He reassured Hokuto that relationships are built, not learned about, so it was now up to him to manage his crew. 

Shintaro offered to buy Hokuto a drink at the end of the day to celebrate and Hokuto agreed, which surprised Shintaro again. He felt a strange deja vu, and it took a while for him to recognize that being with Hokuto felt like being with the alien Jesse was when they first met.  

He watched Hokuto drink in fascination, especially when the assassin’s drink of choice was sake. 

Shintaro ordered a whiskey for himself and sat down next to Hokuto, “You know, I thought you weren’t the talking type.”

Hokuto sipped his sake quietly. 

“See, you’re very scary when you’re silent.” 

But Hokuto was filled only with questions he wanted answers to. 

“How long have you known Jesse?”

Shintaro tallied in his head, “Five years, I guess?”  

“You’re both young for your positions.” Hokuto stated coldly,  his awkward attempt to get to the point.

“Same for you.” Shintaro pushed his own glass against Hokuto’s sitting on the countertop with a small crooked smile. Hokuto found him strange. He knew Shintaro wasn’t naive, yet the way he behaved was always so disarming. 

Hokuto finally just cut to the chase, “Why did he pick me?” 

Shintaro let out an amused chuckle that landed close to a scoff, “Who? Jes?” 

He nodded.

“I’m flattered you think I know how his mind works.” 

Hokuto learned that night that Shintaro was an honest man – almost too honest – and yet he was the kind of man who never tested boundaries if he felt it was none of his business. 

Hokuto would just have to ask Jesse himself. 

When Hokuto left the bar, a fresh coat of snow had covered the sidewalk. It was a light dusting, rare for early March night so when Hokuto passed the office that night, he knew someone went in. The footprints on the front steps were fresh. Hokuto had a gut feeling it was the man he was looking for.

Hokuto realized he was right by the time he snuck up to Jesse’s office door. The shuffling of supplies. The sound of scissors. The sounds were curious but Hokuto opened the door abruptly without his usual grace. 

Blood catches his eyes immediately. A full patch of red on a dress shirt draped over the chair. A bare top Jesse sat against the edge of his desk, scissors cutting off the thread to a hooked needle as Hokuto uncharacteristically froze by the entrance. 

“Shut the door if you’re gonna come in.” Jesse said, wiping his one hand with a wet cloth before digging through his medkit for a roll of bandage. 

The pink neon lights outside the window overpowered the faint moonlight, but Jesse only worked by a small desk light clipped to the edge of the desk he leaned against. 

Hokuto came closer after the door closed behind him, his hand running over the knife in his pocket out of habit until he saw Jesse hadn’t even looked in his direction. His hands looked busy, but Hokuto could tell he barely broke a sweat working on himself.

“Was this a test?” He was referring to his sudden promotion.

Jesse looked up, a small tired smile and shook his head. 

Hokuto pushed. “Why did you pick me?” 

Jesse chuckled dryly, “You really cut to the chase, don’t you?” He glanced up for a second as his hands cut through the roll of bandage with scissors. 

Hokuto only stared intently at Jesse, his curiosity enough to burn a hole through him. Jesse clenched briefly as he wrapped the bandage tightly, only Hokuto could hear — the small irregularity between his breaths as he did so. 

“Honestly, I didn’t know what to do with you.”

Then Jesse turned away from Hokuto to finish dressing the wound, exposing his bare back to him without realizing. Hokuto was glad Jesse couldn’t see the surprise on his face. Even he silently gasped at the ridges that were etched into his backside.

“You know what I do…what I am.” Hokuto said.

Jesse exhaled, a resigned sigh. 

“I didn’t want you to feel like my knife.” Jesse admitted, pausing briefly, “I don’t need a knife.” 

Jesse picked up the bloody dress shirt and clad it over himself after he finished. Their eyes met for a short honest moment before Jesse’s eyes fell to button his shirt. Hokuto saw Jesse slouched against the desk, and it was more than his posture — his entire aura read differently. 

Maybe it was the neon lights that finally shut off, the short hours that even their night streets went to sleep. Between bar closure time and sunrise. The snow cleared, the moonlight broke through, and his hair was painted a warm dusty brown even though his skin looked translucent. 

Jesse looked beautiful in the moonlight. Bloody and beautiful. 

Hokuto felt something inside of himself rupture, disorienting him in a way that was difficult to name. He received the answer he came to seek. 

“I won’t disappoint.” 

Hokuto’s words were a promise that Jesse would always remember. 

Between his new day job running the crew, Hokuto still stalked the shadows of Jesse’s tracks whenever he could. Hokuto sought comfort in being in the shadows, but he also found himself seeking something else from Jesse — he barely knew what. Yet Hokuto was confident he’d find it; it just took time. 

One humid summer night, Hokuto found himself standing in front of a motel far away from their usual perimeters. He wasn’t well-versed enough to understand where this belonged politically, but he knew Jesse wasn’t supposed to be here. Despite the risks, Jesse chose this. He wanted secrecy. Discretion. Jesse was hiding something.

Hokuto watched Jesse enter, trailing behind a woman. Dark tight dress, heavy makeup, and tall patent black stilettos. She left hours later, clad in an oversized jacket that didn’t belong to her and Hokuto saw discolored pink marks peek from under the skin covered by her hair that she deliberately brushed to the front. Jesse stayed until morning even though she left in the middle of the night. And Hokuto never saw him return with that same woman again. 

Hokuto spent weeks watching Jesse, learning about this secret he grew dangerously curious about. They were prostitutes, Hokuto learned when he approached one on his own. He paid to be a John for a night, but only to inquire about Jesse. The generous woman gave him free service as she told him about the man whose poor conduct earned him a quickly growing blacklist reputation. It pushed Hokuto to indulge his curiosity further, until finally he found himself slammed into a car hood in the parking lot. 

Hokuto was rarely blindsided, but Jesse had doubled back that night when he found Hokuto on his tail. He didn’t hesitate, it was urgent – Jesse was unusually defensive. 

Under the same moonlight, Hokuto was pinned under Jesse, holding his breath when Jesse held a pen to his eye, stopping just short of his eyeball.

“Stay away from my business.” 

His words weren’t an empty threat, Hokuto knew. Yet Jesse showed Hokuto mercy every time, even when he was the one cornered. Hokuto cornered Jesse. He was getting close. 

Same place a week later. Hokuto didn’t even bother to hide this time. He loitered at the entrance until late into the night, and the automatic door slid open. Hokuto turned around, Jesse’s eyes were calmly furious. He didn’t say a word, but Hokuto knew to follow him in.

He finally got under Jesse’s skin. Hokuto should be scared, but he was exactly where he wanted to be. 

The room was empty. Hokuto stood at the end of the bed, and the sheets were still neatly tucked around the corners. Jesse figured he knew exactly what Hokuto was thinking but Hokuto said it out loud anyways, “I know what you are doing.” 

Jesse shoved Hokuto onto the bed without missing a beat, one knee on his chest but hands around his neck. 

“You don’t know anything.”

Hokuto felt his body pressed into the mattress, sinking deeper than he should from Jesse’s pressure crush down his chest. Even losing air, when Hokuto looked at Jesse’s eyes he didn’t see anger. Not dominance. Not rage. 

He saw sadness, and a deep shame that Hokuto couldn’t explain the reason for. 

Then Jesse finally let go and Hokuto coughed up gasping for air in long draws as he pushed himself up against the mattress. He should feel ashamed of the satisfaction he felt, but Hokuto felt himself hiding a small smirk. He could finally read Jesse and there was something that came alive in him. 

He rubbed the skin around his neck as he pushed up from the bed, slowly stalking over to the armchair Jesse sank into wordlessly. He breathed in short shallow breaths, shakily gripping his fists, and he could tell Jesse was somewhere else – and he was trying his best to come back. 

Hokuto wouldn’t allow Jesse to drown like that. 

He slowly fell onto his knee in front of Jesse, his hand resting on Jesse’s kneecaps as gently as he knew how to. Being gentle was never part of his training, but this is what Hokuto imagined it felt like. His hands slowly glided up Jesse’s thigh, stopping as his fingers hooked around the pant edge. 

His voice gathered into a shaking breath, as tender as he could muster because Jesse needed to come back.

“Let me help you.” 

Jesse’s eyes fell onto Hokuto who knelt in front of him. They widened, but the rest of his body froze. Then they softened, Jesse closed them as Hokuto undid the buckle. The leather belt fell onto the carpet. His pants slid down his legs and Hokuto found himself between them. 

Jesse’s eyes remained closed the entire time, digging his fingers into the cushion of the arm rest until Hokuto gingerly placed them on his face. When Jesse opened his eyes, Hokuto hadn’t known what to expect from the man with the violent reputation amongst the sex worker community – but it wasn’t fear. He saw a shamed fear in Jesse’s eyes flash by as his warm callous hands shook as he felt Hokuto’s face, combing through his hair and firming his grip there. 

Jesse gave a slight push and Hokuto obeyed exactly as he was instructed, swallowing him as deep as he could until Hokuto’s permission opened the door for Jesse and the fear and shame faded into a deep grunt. 

Hokuto rarely failed when he was given an assignment, and this time was no exception. He finishes neatly for Jesse, not one drop unaccounted for. Not one word was exchanged throughout the whole process, yet when Hokuto left he knew Jesse would know where to go if he needed discretion. 

If he needed Hokuto again. 

Hokuto smiled as he wiped his lips walking down the dim motel hallway. 

He realized he liked the Jesse who could choose pleasure. 

Hokuto never told Jesse where he lived, but a month later Jesse didn’t fail to show up at his door. Hokuto smiled to himself, hiding his grin as he approached Jesse sitting outside his door, the way Hokuto did when he first met Jesse. 

Years passed by fast, and Jesse never stopped coming so Hokuto began to leave a key out for Jesse. Even then, Jesse didn’t always go inside. 

Hokuto saw Jesse for the first time since he bandaged the gunshot wound through his back. He watched Jesse finish up a smoke from his window before he headed up the stairs to Hokuto’s second floor apartment. 

Just as he expected the knock came. 

When Jesse passed into the apartment without pushing a kiss onto Hokuto, he knew this wasn’t the usual visit. He seats Jesse and brings out tea for them even though Jesse would probably prefer whisky. But even if Jesse didn’t want to take care of his body, Hokuto did. 

“Should I change your bandage?” Hokuto set down the tea cup in front of Jesse, trying to figure out the reason for Jesse’s visit. 

Jesse shook his head with a small smile. 

Hokuto studied quietly as Jesse picked up his tea cup, drinking from it obediently. 

“I heard you all met.” Jesse saved Hokuto the guess work, “I came to see what you thought.”

“Shintaro told you?” Hokuto knew it had to be Shintaro, but asked anyway. 

Jesse nodded, “The missed handoff…I’m aware of the implications.” 

Hokuto was distracted by Jesse’s hands, noticing how he never touched the tea cup again. He immediately remembered; Jesse wasn’t a fan of warm beverages in his hands. 

“It’s troublesome, I agree.” Hokuto sat down on the opposite end of the couch and Jesse turned toward him when he did.

“But it’s nothing we haven’t handled. Push out a scapegoat if we must.” Hokuto smiled, “I have a few candidates in mind, if you’re interested.” 

Jesse nodded as he listened to Hokuto’s take, a small reassured grin. He shook his head, “No, I think we’re on the same page.” 

Jesse’s tea cup sat on the table untouched again even as it cooled and he lingered longer than Hokuto expected. It was rare for Jesse to stay, and between the noise on the TV and the silence between them, they sat on opposite ends of the couch for hours. Hokuto didn’t even realize he fell asleep until he woke up.

The room was dark, barely moonlit by the window. Hokuto woke up on his bed, covered by the blanket from his couch. There was only one way he could’ve ended up there. Before he even gave that any thought, his eyes found Jesse curled up next to him on top of the covers. 

Hokuto remembered thinking Jesse was beautiful under the moonlight years ago. He was even more beautiful when he was clean without blood, and Hokuto fought the urge to touch his face. He exhaled softly, falling back onto the bed next to Jesse. He couldn’t fall back asleep, so he stared at Jesse’s sleeping face. It was a far cry from peaceful, but it was the most still he would ever see Jesse. 

Hokuto shut his eyes in a hurry when he heard Jesse stirring. He listened intently as Jesse woke up in a gasp. He knew that about him. Jesse almost never woke up peacefully unless he was hurt. Tonight was no exception. Then he heard the shuffle of Jesse leaving.

Hokuto opened his eyes, climbed off his bed and leaned beside his window. He watched as Jesse disappeared back into the night. Back to the neon streets that he felt home in. 

Hokuto’s hand habitually touched his own neck, when he thought about Jesse. It was Jesse’s favorite; he never said so, but Hokuto knew. 

It was no different days later. The front door slammed shut behind Jesse as he pushed into Hokuto’s apartment lips first. His callous hands held Hokuto’s face as he planted generous yet rough kisses down Hokuto’s neck and up his ear. His warm breath lingered on his ear as Jesse pressed him against the wall, hands tight behind his back, kissing the skin where his hair ended. Hokuto felt himself aroused by the time Jesse pulled both of their shirts off. He unbuckled his own belt, then grabbed Hokuto by the hair over to the couch. His knees thud against his carpet, and Hokuto knew it was time to open his mouth. 

His sharp gasp when Jesse pulled out earned him a hot burning strike landed across his cheek. Hokuto didn’t even have the moment to apologize. Jesse went in again, and this time when he pulled out Hokuto took a quiet breath.

Hokuto learned that obeying Jesse was the only way he could remain close. 

Sometimes Jesse would fall asleep there after he took out everything on Hokuto and he finally relaxed enough to get a few hours. They’d share a bed until Jesse woke up, dressed and immediately left. Hokuto always watched from his window, Jesse’s silhouette knowing he was the only one who ever knew that Jesse. 

This early morning was no different, but Hokuto’s senses perked when he sensed movement from his peripheral. A man walked down the street moments after Jesse vanished into the distance. Hokuto studied the way he walked. 

Then he saw the man again. Hokuto was certain he knew that gait. His eyes sharpened, the predator gaze he’d never been able to shake no matter how many years it’d been. 

Why was he following Jesse?