Torture Me.
Umbrella.
It was noisy in the club but I only heard him. Over the raucous laugher and thumping music, all I heard was his stupid jokes and chat-up lines, teasing the young girl on his lap with mindless drunken comments – it was just an act. I knew it. He knew it. He had no intention of leaving with her that night, or with any of the girls circling us like vultures, ready to kiss and tell their way to pseudo-stardom. They were wasting their time anyway. The media didn’t care much about underground rock bands with their cross-dressing tendencies. We hadn’t made it above basement gigs and giving out tickets for free on street corners.
But back to Toshiya.
His eyes were glazed over, eyelids drooping slightly, reflexes numbed by lack of sleep and alcohol as he groggily ran his fingertips along his companions jawbone, as she tried to talk him into leaving with her. The filthy slut was deeply flattered, his muscles working his face into a wicked smirk as he declined, still groping her playfully. That was always the thing with Toshiya; he would mess around with you, let you think you had a chance with him and then throw you away like you were garbage. I can’t say I felt sorry for her, though. After all, tonight, he was mine.
“Geez, he’s been in our band a month and already he’s getting all the girls,” Kaoru grumbled, noticing that I’d been staring at the blue-haired bassist for over half an hour. I turned slowly to him, relieved that he thought I was jealous of Toshiya. “Where’s the justice in that?”
“Hmmm…” I turned my attention away from my older friend, back to the younger man who had gotten rid of the whore on his lap and was now lolling around in his seat, well on his way to a comatose state. Internally, I cursed him. What good was he to me in that condition? What the hell was I meant to do with a comatose whore? “Maybe I should get him home?”
Kaoru groaned, his face contorted in annoyance, pink hair turned a murky green under the strobe lights. “Don’t leave me here by myself. Kyo’s left with some bimbo, Shinya’s gone missing…” He frowned darkly, watching people dancing, performing lurid, vulgar steps out of time with the pulsating bass line. “Why can’t I be young and sexy and have girls all over my lap?”
I snorted and patted his leg, “Kaoru, you’ll always be young and sexy. Even when you’re all wrinkly. Hell, I’d do you!” He pulled a disgusted face and swiftly pushed my hand off his denim-clad knee, before laughing loudly and telling me he might have to take me up on that offer. I stood up and tossed my red mane over my shoulder, turning my gaze once again to the other band member, now giggling quietly to himself over another exotic cocktail, fixated with opening and closing a little paper umbrella. “Kaoru… I have to get him home before he drinks himself to death. Besides, I’m not really in a partying mood tonight….”
Kaoru sighed deeply and nodded, once again glaring at the youths cluttering up the dance floor with their bumping and grinding, briefly considering joining in. “If I tried to do that, I’d dislocate my hip… and get arrested.” He mused, still stuck on his age complex. I tutted and reminded him that I wasn’t actually that much younger than he was, which cheered him up considerably. “I might go chat up some girls.” He grinned, clapping his hands together, a sudden burst of confidence rushing through him.
He stood up clumsily, slightly tipsy, gripping my shoulder tightly to help him balance. For once, I was the only one who hadn’t been drinking excessively, making sure I was still sober enough to remember everything in the morning. Only, by looking at Toshiya, I knew there would be nothing much to remember.
“Careful you don’t get arrested,” I playfully warned Kaoru as he weaved his way through the crowd towards the bar, hiding the disappointment and frustration that was settling in my stomach with a thick layer of sarcasm. I saw him hold his middle finger up at me before he disappeared from view.
“Hey, Die? Why is this umbrella so small?” Toshiya asked as I approached him, his voice slurred and broken, his eyes unfocused and hazy. Oh God, those eyes… such beautiful eyes, the colour of oblivion, capable of turning your stomach inside out and making you weak at the knees. He held up the small orange umbrella for me to see, though I was too busy looking at him. “It wouldn’t keep you dry at all.” Giggling, he set the object down on the beer-drenched table and tried to give me a seductive smile but there was a look of infinite sadness in his eyes that he couldn’t quite hide. “So, are you here to take me to your love-nest?”
“No. I’m here to take you to your bed and get you some aspirin for the morning,” My voice was strangely business-like, formal and stern, almost fatherly. “You’re going to have a hell of a hangover when you wake up and if you miss the band meeting tomorrow, Kao will have a fit.”
He blinked, surprised at my response, before grinning widely, “Ah, c’mon. I ain’t drunk,” He tried to stand up, clinging on to the table for dear life. He smiled triumphantly when he was upright but the second he let go of the sodden wood, he collapsed back into his seat.
“You were saying?” I said sarcastically, folding my arms and glaring at him pointedly. I was thoroughly pissed off. The one night I could have him, he was useless and incompetent, so drunk he couldn’t even walk. He looked amazing tonight as well, the black crumpled fabric of his shirt clinging to his elegant frame, complimenting the deep blue of his hair, tight jeans fitting him perfectly, highlighting the slender arc of his calves and thighs. It was too much.
I narrowed my eyes, coming to the conclusion that he’d done this on purpose, just to torture me even more than usual. I could deal with the endless flirting during live shows, him pouncing on me on stage, sharing a fucking changing room with him and having to fight the urge to touch, to taste….
But this was too much. He’d promised me, he’d fucking promised me that it would be me and him and nothing would come between us for one night only. Never trust a whore, eh?
Despite the overwhelming desire to just leave him there to fend for himself, lost in a state of alcohol fuelled stupidity, vulnerable and pathetic, I helped him to his feet and carried him through the mass of bodies, studiously ignoring his complaints that he hadn’t finished his drink. I was in a rush to get out of the stuffy, muggy building. He was heavier than he looked, all of his weight pressing down on my shoulders, making it difficult to walk in a straight line and the second we were outside, I pushed him off me, breathing in the fresh night air, the chilling drops of rain soothing to my flushed skin.
“Damn… we could’ve used that umbrella,” Toshiya grumbled, staggering around, trying to keep still. I watched him for a moment, marvelling at how inelegant he looked. He always carried himself with such confidence and grace that it was shocking to see him practically tripping over his own feet and being blown over by the slightest gust of wind.
I was lucky I knew where he lived and that it wasn’t too far from the venue – he wouldn’t have been able to give me directions and we wouldn’t have been able to get a taxi with the state he was in. I dragged him through the rain, through the city’s flashing lights and dazzling colours, the sights of Tokyo merging into one technicoloured rainbow through my sleep-deprived eyes. He complained loudly and brusquely about his hair getting wet, telling me that he’d spent so long on it before he left and that I should treat it with care and respect.
“Shut up and let me have a moments peace!” I snapped aggressively, clutching tightly to his wrist as he flailed around behind me, ignoring the horrified stares I was receiving from passers-by. We weren’t too far from his apartment and I couldn’t wait to get rid of him.
“You’re just jealous,” He sniffed, the words coming out in a drunken blur. “You dream of having hair as good as mine.”
I didn’t respond verbally, but gave him a warning look over my shoulder, lips pursed together in aggravation. He saw my fierce glare, his handsome face fell and he let me drag him home in silence. I took the opportunity to get my thoughts together and think about the situation I found myself in. Why did I waste my time chasing after him, when I could have someone constantly there to support me, to love me without asking for anything in return? I looked at him, my eyes studying him reproachfully, taking in every beautiful inch of his delicate form.
The answer was obvious. He was perfect, exactly what I needed, wanted, yearned for. I was a masochist, my own worst enemy, intent on ruining my life by wanting the things I could never have. I smiled wearily at him, receiving a small smile in return, the expression making him look innocent and angelic. Yeah, he was perfect.
When we finally got to his house and I’d managed to wrestle him for his front door keys, we were both soaking wet and miserable, the silence deafening around us. I sat him down on his bed and found the bathroom, grabbing a towel and the little packet of pills he’d need in the morning. He was shivering when I came back, his arms wrapped protectively around himself, trying desperately to keep warm.
“Die, are you mad at me?” He asked when I’d gone down on my knees in front of him, rubbing his head with the towel to dry his hair, his voice weak and hushed.
I paused, looking him in the eyes, not knowing quite what to say. Yes would’ve been the right answer. Yes, I bloody well was mad at him. But for some reason, the words didn’t form in my throat, the truth didn’t come out of my mouth and a lie erupted in its place.
“No, Toshiya, I’m not mad at you.” I got to my feet and sighed, dropping the towel on the floor beside the bed. His eyes were fixed firmly on the carpet – he looked so different from the confident, teasing man I was used to seeing and I couldn’t help but feel guilty about the negative thoughts that had been running through my head.
I gently pulled him off the bed by his hand, handling him as if he would break under too much pressure, to move the covers aside. “Lie down.” I muttered softly and he did so without arguing, actually obeying me for the first time since we’d met each other. I tucked him in, making sure he was warm and comfortable, before sitting on the edge of the bed with my head in my hands, suddenly exhausted.
“Die?” His voice was quiet and tired, dark eyes peeking over the top of his duvet. I turned my head towards him, admiring his beauty silently through red strands of hair. “Will you stay tonight?” His tone wasn’t challenging, wasn’t mocking, no hint of seduction or lust. It was an innocent question, tinged with loneliness and fear. He sounded more like a child asking his parent to stay and protect him from the monsters that lurked in the darkness, than a professional lover asking his client to spend the night with him.
I sighed and nodded, taking my leather jacket off. After all, the only alternative was to go back to an empty house and sleep in an empty bed, without his warmth and the fragrance of his skin. He closed his eyes again, content and satisfied, moving the duvet off of his face. Without thinking, I shifted so I was above him, not letting our bodies touch, lowering my head so I could steal a kiss from him, closing my own eyes to absorb the moment.
But my mouth met hard bone, instead of the smooth skin of his lips and when I opened my eyes in surprise, his index finger was placed firmly on my mouth, pushing my head back forcefully. He shook his head, ebony eyes blazing, wicked smirk adorning his features once again.
“Bastard,” I growled bitterly, rolling off him and glaring darkly at the ceiling, the guilt I had felt earlier being replaced by irritation. The bed shook with his silent laughter and he turned on his side to face me, draping his arm over my chest and holding me hostage. I glowered at him. His serene smile was visible even in the dim light, his expression growing more relaxed as his breathing slowed down, sleep making him look sweet and harmless.
I twisted a strand of deep blue hair around my fingers, my body automatically moving closer to his, not making contact because of the duvet between us. But still, I could smell him, the sweetest, purest perfume in the world, still present through the overpowering veil of alcohol and cigarette smoke. Before I knew it, darkness was clouding my vision, my head heavy and drowsy with his scent and I fell asleep to the sound of his breathing.
But back to Toshiya.
His eyes were glazed over, eyelids drooping slightly, reflexes numbed by lack of sleep and alcohol as he groggily ran his fingertips along his companions jawbone, as she tried to talk him into leaving with her. The filthy slut was deeply flattered, his muscles working his face into a wicked smirk as he declined, still groping her playfully. That was always the thing with Toshiya; he would mess around with you, let you think you had a chance with him and then throw you away like you were garbage. I can’t say I felt sorry for her, though. After all, tonight, he was mine.
“Geez, he’s been in our band a month and already he’s getting all the girls,” Kaoru grumbled, noticing that I’d been staring at the blue-haired bassist for over half an hour. I turned slowly to him, relieved that he thought I was jealous of Toshiya. “Where’s the justice in that?”
“Hmmm…” I turned my attention away from my older friend, back to the younger man who had gotten rid of the whore on his lap and was now lolling around in his seat, well on his way to a comatose state. Internally, I cursed him. What good was he to me in that condition? What the hell was I meant to do with a comatose whore? “Maybe I should get him home?”
Kaoru groaned, his face contorted in annoyance, pink hair turned a murky green under the strobe lights. “Don’t leave me here by myself. Kyo’s left with some bimbo, Shinya’s gone missing…” He frowned darkly, watching people dancing, performing lurid, vulgar steps out of time with the pulsating bass line. “Why can’t I be young and sexy and have girls all over my lap?”
I snorted and patted his leg, “Kaoru, you’ll always be young and sexy. Even when you’re all wrinkly. Hell, I’d do you!” He pulled a disgusted face and swiftly pushed my hand off his denim-clad knee, before laughing loudly and telling me he might have to take me up on that offer. I stood up and tossed my red mane over my shoulder, turning my gaze once again to the other band member, now giggling quietly to himself over another exotic cocktail, fixated with opening and closing a little paper umbrella. “Kaoru… I have to get him home before he drinks himself to death. Besides, I’m not really in a partying mood tonight….”
Kaoru sighed deeply and nodded, once again glaring at the youths cluttering up the dance floor with their bumping and grinding, briefly considering joining in. “If I tried to do that, I’d dislocate my hip… and get arrested.” He mused, still stuck on his age complex. I tutted and reminded him that I wasn’t actually that much younger than he was, which cheered him up considerably. “I might go chat up some girls.” He grinned, clapping his hands together, a sudden burst of confidence rushing through him.
He stood up clumsily, slightly tipsy, gripping my shoulder tightly to help him balance. For once, I was the only one who hadn’t been drinking excessively, making sure I was still sober enough to remember everything in the morning. Only, by looking at Toshiya, I knew there would be nothing much to remember.
“Careful you don’t get arrested,” I playfully warned Kaoru as he weaved his way through the crowd towards the bar, hiding the disappointment and frustration that was settling in my stomach with a thick layer of sarcasm. I saw him hold his middle finger up at me before he disappeared from view.
“Hey, Die? Why is this umbrella so small?” Toshiya asked as I approached him, his voice slurred and broken, his eyes unfocused and hazy. Oh God, those eyes… such beautiful eyes, the colour of oblivion, capable of turning your stomach inside out and making you weak at the knees. He held up the small orange umbrella for me to see, though I was too busy looking at him. “It wouldn’t keep you dry at all.” Giggling, he set the object down on the beer-drenched table and tried to give me a seductive smile but there was a look of infinite sadness in his eyes that he couldn’t quite hide. “So, are you here to take me to your love-nest?”
“No. I’m here to take you to your bed and get you some aspirin for the morning,” My voice was strangely business-like, formal and stern, almost fatherly. “You’re going to have a hell of a hangover when you wake up and if you miss the band meeting tomorrow, Kao will have a fit.”
He blinked, surprised at my response, before grinning widely, “Ah, c’mon. I ain’t drunk,” He tried to stand up, clinging on to the table for dear life. He smiled triumphantly when he was upright but the second he let go of the sodden wood, he collapsed back into his seat.
“You were saying?” I said sarcastically, folding my arms and glaring at him pointedly. I was thoroughly pissed off. The one night I could have him, he was useless and incompetent, so drunk he couldn’t even walk. He looked amazing tonight as well, the black crumpled fabric of his shirt clinging to his elegant frame, complimenting the deep blue of his hair, tight jeans fitting him perfectly, highlighting the slender arc of his calves and thighs. It was too much.
I narrowed my eyes, coming to the conclusion that he’d done this on purpose, just to torture me even more than usual. I could deal with the endless flirting during live shows, him pouncing on me on stage, sharing a fucking changing room with him and having to fight the urge to touch, to taste….
But this was too much. He’d promised me, he’d fucking promised me that it would be me and him and nothing would come between us for one night only. Never trust a whore, eh?
Despite the overwhelming desire to just leave him there to fend for himself, lost in a state of alcohol fuelled stupidity, vulnerable and pathetic, I helped him to his feet and carried him through the mass of bodies, studiously ignoring his complaints that he hadn’t finished his drink. I was in a rush to get out of the stuffy, muggy building. He was heavier than he looked, all of his weight pressing down on my shoulders, making it difficult to walk in a straight line and the second we were outside, I pushed him off me, breathing in the fresh night air, the chilling drops of rain soothing to my flushed skin.
“Damn… we could’ve used that umbrella,” Toshiya grumbled, staggering around, trying to keep still. I watched him for a moment, marvelling at how inelegant he looked. He always carried himself with such confidence and grace that it was shocking to see him practically tripping over his own feet and being blown over by the slightest gust of wind.
I was lucky I knew where he lived and that it wasn’t too far from the venue – he wouldn’t have been able to give me directions and we wouldn’t have been able to get a taxi with the state he was in. I dragged him through the rain, through the city’s flashing lights and dazzling colours, the sights of Tokyo merging into one technicoloured rainbow through my sleep-deprived eyes. He complained loudly and brusquely about his hair getting wet, telling me that he’d spent so long on it before he left and that I should treat it with care and respect.
“Shut up and let me have a moments peace!” I snapped aggressively, clutching tightly to his wrist as he flailed around behind me, ignoring the horrified stares I was receiving from passers-by. We weren’t too far from his apartment and I couldn’t wait to get rid of him.
“You’re just jealous,” He sniffed, the words coming out in a drunken blur. “You dream of having hair as good as mine.”
I didn’t respond verbally, but gave him a warning look over my shoulder, lips pursed together in aggravation. He saw my fierce glare, his handsome face fell and he let me drag him home in silence. I took the opportunity to get my thoughts together and think about the situation I found myself in. Why did I waste my time chasing after him, when I could have someone constantly there to support me, to love me without asking for anything in return? I looked at him, my eyes studying him reproachfully, taking in every beautiful inch of his delicate form.
The answer was obvious. He was perfect, exactly what I needed, wanted, yearned for. I was a masochist, my own worst enemy, intent on ruining my life by wanting the things I could never have. I smiled wearily at him, receiving a small smile in return, the expression making him look innocent and angelic. Yeah, he was perfect.
When we finally got to his house and I’d managed to wrestle him for his front door keys, we were both soaking wet and miserable, the silence deafening around us. I sat him down on his bed and found the bathroom, grabbing a towel and the little packet of pills he’d need in the morning. He was shivering when I came back, his arms wrapped protectively around himself, trying desperately to keep warm.
“Die, are you mad at me?” He asked when I’d gone down on my knees in front of him, rubbing his head with the towel to dry his hair, his voice weak and hushed.
I paused, looking him in the eyes, not knowing quite what to say. Yes would’ve been the right answer. Yes, I bloody well was mad at him. But for some reason, the words didn’t form in my throat, the truth didn’t come out of my mouth and a lie erupted in its place.
“No, Toshiya, I’m not mad at you.” I got to my feet and sighed, dropping the towel on the floor beside the bed. His eyes were fixed firmly on the carpet – he looked so different from the confident, teasing man I was used to seeing and I couldn’t help but feel guilty about the negative thoughts that had been running through my head.
I gently pulled him off the bed by his hand, handling him as if he would break under too much pressure, to move the covers aside. “Lie down.” I muttered softly and he did so without arguing, actually obeying me for the first time since we’d met each other. I tucked him in, making sure he was warm and comfortable, before sitting on the edge of the bed with my head in my hands, suddenly exhausted.
“Die?” His voice was quiet and tired, dark eyes peeking over the top of his duvet. I turned my head towards him, admiring his beauty silently through red strands of hair. “Will you stay tonight?” His tone wasn’t challenging, wasn’t mocking, no hint of seduction or lust. It was an innocent question, tinged with loneliness and fear. He sounded more like a child asking his parent to stay and protect him from the monsters that lurked in the darkness, than a professional lover asking his client to spend the night with him.
I sighed and nodded, taking my leather jacket off. After all, the only alternative was to go back to an empty house and sleep in an empty bed, without his warmth and the fragrance of his skin. He closed his eyes again, content and satisfied, moving the duvet off of his face. Without thinking, I shifted so I was above him, not letting our bodies touch, lowering my head so I could steal a kiss from him, closing my own eyes to absorb the moment.
But my mouth met hard bone, instead of the smooth skin of his lips and when I opened my eyes in surprise, his index finger was placed firmly on my mouth, pushing my head back forcefully. He shook his head, ebony eyes blazing, wicked smirk adorning his features once again.
“Bastard,” I growled bitterly, rolling off him and glaring darkly at the ceiling, the guilt I had felt earlier being replaced by irritation. The bed shook with his silent laughter and he turned on his side to face me, draping his arm over my chest and holding me hostage. I glowered at him. His serene smile was visible even in the dim light, his expression growing more relaxed as his breathing slowed down, sleep making him look sweet and harmless.
I twisted a strand of deep blue hair around my fingers, my body automatically moving closer to his, not making contact because of the duvet between us. But still, I could smell him, the sweetest, purest perfume in the world, still present through the overpowering veil of alcohol and cigarette smoke. Before I knew it, darkness was clouding my vision, my head heavy and drowsy with his scent and I fell asleep to the sound of his breathing.