Aftermath | By : twistedsheets Category: +S to Z > Viewfinder Views: 4337 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Viewfinder, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
[Fanfiction] Viewfinder -
Aftermath: Chapter 1
Disclaimer: I don’t own Viewfinder. This wonderful series and the
characters belong to Ayano Yamane. Bow down to her! :D
Author’s notes: Post Hong Kong arc. Spoilers for Naked Truth chapters,
up to NT07. Uhm, enjoy? Going to try to fit this in ten or so chapters. Argh.
Plunnies won’t leave me alone. Damn them.
Ratings:
PG-13 to NC-17? Oh hell, there’s going to be smex in the future chapters. So be
warned. Violence, gore, yada, yada.
Pairings:
Asami x Takaba, Fei x Takaba (flashbacks)
Summary:
Because just like the morning after, the aftermath can be a bitch. Choices must
be made, and in the end, you find out ‘happily ever after’ is just another lie.
Aftermath
Chapter I: Paintings on the Wall
The painting was exquisite. From the smallest brush stroke to the tiniest of
details, to the play of light and shadow on the familiar face and body, the
painter captured its subject perfectly. The defeated slump of slim, muscular
shoulders, the sad smile on the lips, the heartbreak in the eyes that gazed
into a photograph held between calloused fingers, it was all there, bared naked
in canvas and oils for all the world to see.
Before he could stop himself, Akihito touched the painting reverently, letting
his fingers brush lightly against the rough, dry surface. He let himself smile;
he must really look silly to the other guests in exhibit. He was acting like
Narcissus, marveling at his reflection on the pool of water, oblivious to all
but to his own image.
Marveling, yes. Oblivious, no. Not this night. Too much was at stake. He’s
here. He’s watching us.
“Admiring yourself, Takaba Akihito?”
Akihito froze at the sound of that voice. No, you’re not supposed to be
here. Go away. Wary as a cat, he slipped his hand into his pockets, but
didn’t bother to turn to face the owner of the voice. But Akihito could smell
him, the sweet scent of his hair, and his sweat over the light fragrance of
oriental spices and musk. Akihito kept his eye on the painting, trying to
ignore the pounding of his heart and the anger in his chest. Even now, after
two weeks from returning to Japan, a week after returning home to Kanagawa,
Akihito was still afraid, angry, and hurt.
“I didn’t know you paint.” A long, delicate-looking finger touched the gold
plate beneath the painting, tracing over the engraved initials of ‘Takaba. A’.
Then he slid closer to Akihito, so close that the air around them tasted of
him. Akihito swallowed hard, trying to choke down the bitter memories that rose
within his mind. His hands curled into fists, nails biting into the soft flesh
of his palm. Calm down.
“What are you doing here?” Akihito
managed to ask, still not looking at him. He was surprised when he received a
reply.
“I wanted to see some art.”
Oh. Akihito should have known. Judging from what he had seen of the man’s
house, art was one his interests. There was not a room he’d seen that was
without a painting or some old ceramic vase displayed. But was this meeting a
coincidence, or a set-up? A set-up. They know. They had to know.
Akihito wondered if he’d brought some of his bodyguards with him.
“You have talent. This is a very good painting of yourself.” Akihito could feel
eyes burning into him, and finally he turned to look at Liu Fei Long’s proud,
cold, and beautiful face. Dressed in a crisp, form-fitting black and white
suit, long hair caught back in a low ponytail, the Chinese crime lord looked
very much like he did when he walked into Akihito’s life for the second time in
that bright, sunny morning at the coffee shop a few months ago. Akihito almost
laughed out loud at the irony of it all, but managed to stop himself when Fei
Long asked, “Does Asami know about this?”
No. He can’t. He shouldn’t. “I didn’t paint it, my mother did.” Out of
the corner of his eye he could see his mother, elegant and pretty in her silver
dress, mingling with her fellow artists, laughing at some joke or amusing
anecdote, innocent and carefree as always. His father was here too, although he
couldn’t see him. Takaba took a deep breath, his heart almost leaping into his
throat, and forced himself to answer Fei Long’s question. “And I don’t know if
Asami knows. And I don’t care.” He grimaced at his last words. He sounded like
some petulant child; glancing at Fei Long’s expression, Akihito could tell the
Chinese thought of him like that as well.
“Why are you here, Takaba?” Fei Long finally asked, tilting his head slightly.
Akihito fought not to flush at the speculative gleam that came into Fei Long’s
eyes. Akihito didn’t know why he bothered to ask. The Chinese had obviously
already come to some conclusions why Akihito was here–some of them probably
right.
Trying to appear unperturbed, Akihito shrugged carelessly. “I wanted to be with
my parents. Besides,” the words slipped out before he could stop himself, “why
would someone want a lowly wildflower when he already has the rare flower on
the loft?”
Akihito didn’t breathe–wouldn’t dare breathe. The vase slipped from his
suddenly numb, cold fingers, and fell to the floor, shattering into tiny, blue
and white shards, each sharp and dangerous.
Fei Long’s eyes narrowed at his
words. There was a brief silence between them, filled in by the noise of the
crowd. When Fei Long spoke again, his voice was a whip. “So you saw that. You
disappoint me, Takaba. I knew you were a fool, but I didn’t know you were a
blind, spineless, fool.”
“Am I?” Anger rose in him. What right did Fei Long have to judge him? “Damn
you, Fei Long. You don’t know anything.” Takaba glared at Fei Long. Fuck
it. Not another word, not another word. “I don’t think it ever occurred to
you bastards that I don’t want to involve myself further with you two ever
again. I want my life back, the life I had before you two decided to make me a
pawn in your sick little crime lord games.”
Akihito never felt so helpless as he did that day, standing near the door,
the beautiful vase broken beside his feet. His knees felt weak; he almost
dropped to the floor, if it hadn’t been for the strong fingers that ruthlessly
dug into his arm and hauled him up.
“Do you see them?” The voice was warm, sibilant, almost comforting.
“Yes.” His voice shook. A second later, his whole body was trembling.
“Then you know what I want, what I will do.”
“Is that so, Takaba? Then why don’t
you tell him that to his face?”
“I–” Akihito narrowed his eyes. When did Fei Long change his job description
from drug lord to relationship counselor? “Why are you really here? You didn’t
travel all the way from Hong Kong to Kanagawa for paintings. Did Asami send
you, or something?”
It
took all of Akihito’s willpower not to step back as Fei Long gave him the cold,
deadly look he’d seen too often, mostly whenever the Chinese drug lord dealt
with people he had complete contempt for. “I’m here on my own business. I’m not
Asami’s dog. You presume too much, Takaba.”
“And you don’t? Fine. He didn’t send you.” Akihito glanced over his shoulder,
and almost sighed in relief when he saw his father by his mother’s side. He
looked back at Fei Long, then turned his back to him. He had enough this
conversation. “But in case you see Asami, tell him I don’t want to ever see him
again.”
“You are a fool.”
Feeling like he was taunting the devil himself, Akihito gave Fei Long an
insolent smile. “Better to be a fool than dead.” Then he walked away, not
bothering to look back. He could feel Fei Long’s eyes boring into him, but he
forced himself to ignore the man and continue walking. The tension between him
and Fei Long had been so thick he almost choked in it. If things had been like
that with Fei Long, Akihito could only imagine how things will be with Asami.
He won’t come. He won’t. He has Fei Long already, and I’ve already told him to
stay away.
“Impressive job, Takaba-kun.” The voice in his ear sounded amused, and
it pushed Akihito’s temper past his limit.
“Fuck you.” He spoke in a low, intense whisper, his voice thick with loathing.
The voice made a tsking sound. “None of that, Takaba-kun. Remember
what I will do. What I can do.”
“I remember. You don’t have to keep on reminding me.”
“I have to. You seem like a boy that needs constant reminders. We’ll talk
later. Spend time with your family, Takaba-kun. It might improve your mood.”
Takaba was about to say something
else, but his mother appeared before him. “Oh, there you are. I’ve been looking
for you.” She grinned at him, her smile taking years off her already youthful
face. “Everyone’s been asking who my model was for the nude painting. Do you
mind if I introduce you to them?”
He forced himself to smile back at her, and pushed his unpleasant thoughts at
the back of his mind. “No. I’m already embarrassed enough. I’m sure a few more
embarrassments won’t hurt me.”
“Embarrassed? Is that why you’ve been standing beside your nude painting for
hours?” She slid her arm around his and led him to where her friends were. She
smiled again, a gentler smile than before. “If it truly bothers you, Akihito, I
will take it down. Just say the words.”
“No, Mom,” he said firmly. He’d forgotten how sensitive his mother could be.
“Did anyone want to buy it?” he asked, trying to change the subject.
“Oh, a lot, actually. I keep telling them it’s not for sale, though. And I
don’t know whether I should be amused or disturbed by the fact that most of
those who offered for it were men.” Akihito’s mother gave him a bemused look.
“You’re kidding.”
“No. I even had a man who phoned me and said he wanted to buy the painting. I
told him no, too, but he was very persistent. I had to tell him it was up to my
model if he wanted to sell the painting to him. The man didn’t say his name,
though.”
Akihito felt like a bucket of ice water was dumped on him. Was the buyer
Asami? Did Fei Long tell him…? He quickly scanned the room for Fei Long,
but couldn’t find him. The Chinese must have left as abruptly as he had
appeared. What was he really doing here? Is he going to Asami? “Wow,”
he managed to say, ignoring the sudden sick feeling in his stomach.
“Wow indeed. Your father was ready to throw a fit when he heard about that.”
Then his mother laughed, mischief dancing in her blue eyes. “And this painting
only showed your back view. If I put up the one that showed your front, who
knows? I might get better offers.”
Akihito pouted, and then laughed. “You’re evil, Mom.”
His mother only raised a brow in reply. Then her features softened as her mouth
curved into a warm smile. “Thank you for posing for me, Akihito. I know you’re
more inclined to photograph a subject than be one.”
“For you, Mom, I would do anything.”
As he let his mother take him to her friends, his eyes wandered to the crowd
again, this time not looking for Fei Long. His eyes narrowed as he found his
mark.
He stood not far from them, silver eyes bright with malice, dressed in a
well-cut suit of grey and black. Akihito stared at him for a moment, before the
excited chatter of his mother’s friends forced him to break eye contact. He
willed himself forget, even for just a brief moment. It didn’t work.
“The painting’s title is going to be Choices and Memories.” His mother gave
him a sheepish look. “I hope you don’t mind if I put it up for the art
exhibition two days from now.” As their eyes met, she frowned, and touched his
hair in the way she did whenever she sensed there was something wrong. “Is that
okay, sweetling? Are you still…upset?”
“No. It’s okay if you put it up,” Akihito replied. “I’m not upset anymore.”
Smiling nervously at the small crowd
around him, he tightened his grip on his mother’s arm. I’ve made my choice.
There’s no going back for me…and for us.
~T.B.C.~
Author’s note: I have no idea why I got it into my head that
Takaba’s mother’s a painter. I know his dad’s a photographer, though.
I hope I didn’t end up confusing people more than I should.
So what has Takaba gotten himself into? Trouble, that’s what it is.
Okay, was anyone OOC? I thought Takaba was too…angsty in this one, but he has
his reasons. And was Fei Long too…nice…too abrupt?
I’ll probably explain next chapter why Fei Long was really in that exhibit, and
what Asami has been doing all this while.
Comments and criticisms are most welcome.
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