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. 

*

*

*

Jesse found something weird one morning.

Juri was called away early, at the crack of dawn and since then he’d heard footsteps in the house. Muffled murmurs of adults talking. More footsteps. People shuffled in and out, more than usual. He quickly got dressed and snuck out of the house, watching from around the corner of the office. A fancy car pulled up, suits walked into the office, and different kids were sent in and out in groups. Jesse watched with heavy curiosity and by noon he’d been observing for hours, wondering what this sick feeling was. He’d grown worried for Juri, and that trumped his fear of finding out. 

He ran after the group of the kids who were most recently dismissed from the office, trying to play it cool. 

“What’s going on today? More suits than usual.” He nudged, but the kids only looked at each other, a sad hesitant look on their faces that didn’t bode well in Jesse’s mind.

“Tony’s looking into something.” One of the kids finally said after an irregular pause. 

Then, one of the older kids pushed the younger ones along, ushering them away and said he’d meet up with them later. Jesse looked up at him. He was tall, and he looked like he was at least 14 or 15. His eyes were gentle; they reminded him of Juri’s.

“What’s your name?”

“Masaya.” 

The boy smiled, a very faint small one. “That’s nice.” He took a deep breath before he continued, “If you haven’t been called in yet, it’s probably a good thing. Something bad happened.”

Jesse only looked at the boy, unsure what to make of it. 

“An accident.” He finally said. “A boy died. I think he was around my age.” 

Jesse felt his heart sink, and his eyes must have showed it because the older boy gave him a small squeeze on his arm. He must know something. 

“You…might know him.” He’d seen Jesse hanging around the picture of the kid he was shown earlier. 

Jesse paused for a long time. It felt like the world stopped with him. 

“What was…his…” He never got to finish his sentence. He couldn’t. The words choked in his throat. 

“Yugo.” 

Juri came home that evening humming a tune, but when he pushed the door open the room was dark. It was late, but not late enough that Jesse was already asleep. He quietly stepped in, running his hand along the walls to find his way to the bed. Sure enough, there was a lump on the bed, and it was shaking.

He dropped everything and gently uncovered the blanket. 

“Masaya?” 

Jesse curled inwards, tighter – burying his face into the mattress and his hands cupping his head as though the ceiling had just collapsed. 

“Masaya. Talk to me. What’s wrong?” Juri grew worried, gently trying to pry Jesse from his own body. He never cried like this, not when he got bullied, not even after that night in Roppongi. 

“It’s going to happen to us one day too, right, Juri?” He finally uttered, but his words muffled against the wet bedsheets. 

Juri leaned in, smoothing Jesse’s hair. “Nothing bad’s going to happen to you. Not if I can help it.” 

Jesse slowly turned, his eyes red and puffy from the crying. He didn’t know what else to do, how else to say it. He threw his arms around the older boy and squeezed as hard as he could.

“Yugo died. They said he died!” The words nearly came out as a scream, and Juri stopped breathing for a few moments, locked and hitched mid-breath. 

“...What?” 

“I asked everyone. Every single kid who was called into Tony’s office today. Juri, they’re all lying right?” He cried into Juri’s jacket, but Juri couldn’t hear anything. His next breath barely managed to squeeze through his closing throat, and he repeated Jesse’s words in his head over and over. He thought if he beat it into his mind, he’d accept it quicker. Because the quicker he accepted it, the quicker he could comfort the boy who’d entirely unraveled in his arms. 

Masaya needed him. 

“I’ll go ask tomorrow, okay?” Juri ran his hand down Jesse’s back in long warm strokes. “Nothing bad will happen to you.” He repeated again in a soft whisper, coaxing Jesse to calm down. 

They sat like that together for a very long time that night.

Juri tilted his head back from time to time, when he’d realize the room was too dark. The night was moonless. Jesse was facing the other way. Maybe nobody could see. The tears that wouldn’t stop. Like a broken faucet. Juri hated it. 

He hated crying in front of Jesse. 

But what he hated more was Yugo. Their evening walks. The smokes they shared squatting in the back alley where they shared their first kiss. The lips Juri had only begun to grow fond of. 

His smile.

If he didn’t love him, would it hurt less? 

Juri would never know. 

*

*

*

The days feel short, melting into nights that feel long – as endless as they are hopeless. Juri stares at the gun on his night stand and the bullets scattered around the table, wondering why he had little desire to hold the trigger between his fingers again. He thought he’d steeled his resolve between the four walls in his prison cell, over years that felt like decades. 

But now all he could do was remember the night he shot Jesse. 

The blood on the asphalt running in the murky rain water, flooding toward him, drowning him. 

He fumbled over empty glass bottles as he walked over to the table. Not to pick up the gun, but the trash can. Juri flipped it upside down, the scraps of paper and plastic wrappers floating about until the orange plastic bottle rolled onto the carpet. 

Juri sat on the carpet, bottle in hand and his thumb ran over the label so many times it began to smudge. He read the name and number again.

Kyomoto Taiga. No matter how many times he read it. 

Juri sighed, burying his face into his knees, agonizing over the joke the universe played on him. It didn’t matter how many times he threw away the bottle. He read the number so many times he’d committed it to his memory already. 

Whether it was the four walls of the motel room or the four walls of prison, it was all the same. 

Juri realized he had no hope for salvation. He threw the bottle away one more time, landing in the now empty trash and he found his phone buried underneath the rubbish on the floor. 

Juri punched the numbers. 

Everything happened in the same breath. Then he was in a much fancier hotel lobby. When the automatic door shut behind him, he whipped around guilt heavy on his mind. 

Juri felt like someone was watching him. Maybe it was shame afterall. 

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.”