On the Street of Dreams

Chapter summary: Steeling himself, he marched towards the boy and hunched over his quivering, half naked form. “I. Don’t. Like. Freaks,” he hissed.

***

Decisions and Consequences


A bell tinkled softly when the door opened. Complete in his cowboy hat and a pair if dark sunglasses, Ryuichi walked into the family owned diner, Tatsuha right behind him. Ryuichi sighed contently as a cool blast of cold air hit him. It was so hot outside; you could literally fry an egg on the sidewalk.

The diner was small and unnoticeable from the outside. There was a used bookstore to one side and a cleaners on the other. Both stores had dirty, grimy store fronts and looked eerily desolate. The small diner did not look any better. There was no sign. The bottom half of the front windows were covered in colored sticky paper. The top half had a faux frosty look. In all appearances, the building appeared vacant, but that was why Ryuichi liked it. If you did not know it was here then all you saw was a string of store fronts that appeared deserted. The diner got by on word of mouth alone.

Ryuichi led Tatsuha to a back table, saying hello to the waitress behind the counter.

Moments later, the waitress walked up the table and handed the two men a menu.

“That’s alright,” Tatsuha told her. “We’ll both have the special and iced tea.”

“Okay,” she nodded. “Baked potato or fries?”

“Fries,” Ryuichi said.

“Baked potato,” Tatsuha told her.

She wrote there choices on her pad. “Soup or salad?”

“We’ll both have the egg drop soup.”

“Alright.” She smiled and told them their drinks would be right out. She then turned and went to place their order.

Ryuichi excused himself and Tatsuha watched as he vanished into the bathroom. His lover was worried about his brother. Not only had Shuichi disappeared after his gig at the bar last night, but the boy had been acting strange all day. To top it all off, he got into a strangers car. It had taken everything Tatsuha had to talk his boyfriend out of calling the cops.

The waitress sidled up to the table and placed two condensation dripping cups on the table.

“Thank you,” Tatsuha smiled.

“You’re welcome.”

Tatsuha watched her move to another table to take their order. His eyes swept over the restaurant and landed on a man at the cash register paying his bill. This man had yellow blond hair, long on top and short underneath. He was wearing a pair of crisp tan khaki’s and a short sleeved green shirt. He had on dark sunglasses and an unlit cigarette dangled from his lips. The man turned and Tatsuha got a better look at his face. His face brightened in recognition. He jumped to his feet and raced after the man as he left the diner.

“Bro! Hey, bro! Wait up,” Tatsuha cried. He finally caught him at the corner, lighting his cigarette. “Hey, Eiri!”

Eiri puffed on his cigarette and blew the smoke into his brother’s face.

Tatsuha coughed and waved the smoke out of his face.

“What do you want, Tatsuha?” the blond writer demanded.

“Jeeze, can’t a man say ‘hi’ to his big bro once in awhile?”

Eiri glanced at Tatsuha, but did not say anything.

With a sigh, Tatsuha shook his head. Eiri really was a cold assed bastard.

“Was there a point to stopping me, or were you just admiring my good looks?”

“Why, gotta date? Say, with a pink haired pop star?” If Tatsuha had not been watching, he never would have seen the flash in his brother’s eyes before he was able to school his face.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Eiri denied around his cigarette. He turned and walked away, vanishing into the throng of people crossing the street.

Tatsuha did not blame his brother for denying any involvement with Shuichi. But he could not help but wonder when it came to Shuichi, what were his brother’s feelings? How did Eiri feel about the boy?

Shuichi was a good friend of his, not just his lover’s baby brother, and the last thing the kid needed was to be hurt worse than he already has been by the people in his life.

Another thought struck him as he started back for the diner. It was obvious Shuichi had not been with Eiri. If his brother had been just paying his bill when he and Ryuichi arrived, than that meant the man had most likely been there for an hour, or so, meaning, it had not been his Mercedes that Hiro had seen Shuichi climbing into. So, if it had been him, than whose car had he climbed into?

*

Shuichi sat on a large rock besides the man made pond, his legs dangling along the surface of the pristine water. He stared blankly into the water, trying to figure out what to do about Eiri and the stipulations of the contract with NG.

“Hey,” came a voice.

Startled, Shuichi’s head snapped up and around. “Oh, Maa-kun,” he breathed easily as he saw the blond haired man heading towards him, a beer in each hand. “You’re up early. It’s only a little after four.”

“Yeah, I know,” the older man said. He handed one of the cans to the boy and sat down besides him. “We have a meeting tonight with a couple of the top people at some new record company.”

Shuichi chocked on the amber liquid.

“Are you alright?” Maa-kun asked, slapping Shuichi on the back.

Unable to respond over his coughing fit, Shuichi nodded. A new record company? Was he referring to NG, Tohma’s new label?

“I think he’s just jealous,” sneered a new voice.

Shuichi gritted his teeth. The beer can crackled in his hand.

“Taki,” Maa-kun warned.

“Hey, I’m just stating the facts.” Taki Aizawa waltzed over to the pink haired boy and grabbed his chin, forcing him to stare at him. “Isn’t that right, Shuichi?” he asked sweetly.

God, he really hated this man! Shuichi spit in the man’s face. “Screw you,” he snapped. If anyone should be jealous, it was Taki. Bad Luck had been offered a contract by winning a battle, but then it had been honored by the new president of the record company in a face to face meeting. Ask was meeting a bunch of people high up on the food chain, not the top dog.

Taki flung the wad of saliva off his cheek and smiled slyly at the boy. “What, again?” He ran a finger up Shuichi’s cheek. “We just did the day before yesterday. Aren’t you a horny little beast? I’m that good, huh?”

All the people he hung out with here, at what once used to be an old shrine, were all over twenty. They were all high school drop outs with no skills or career plans. All were either were kicked out of their homes or just ran away. Each one of them was a thug, a druggie, an alcoholic or a prostitute, or a combination of all four. Having no other place to go, they all stayed here at the bosses place.

Kizou was a mysterious man. He bought the run down temple for a steal from the city and fixed it up. He made a fortune selling drugs and pimping out not only females but the males. It was said the police were hot to take down this Yakuza wannabe but had absolutely no evidence.

Being the youngest member, and a guy- or so they all thought- Kizou was lenient with him, for now anyway. The other members of the gang might be thugs and ruffians, but they pretty much left him alone, except when they were drunk or high. Then there was Taki and Kizou.

Taki was a sick, perverted freak who did anything that moved, willing or not. He loved overpowering people weaker than him, men or women. Kizou sort of had a thing for him, though he claimed he was not gay. Because Hiro took care of the money Bad Luck made, Shu was always broke and wound up doing favors in exchange for the pills Kizou supplied him with.

Shuichi hated having these sick fucks touching him, but he had no other choice. It was better than the alternative.

Without thinking, Shuichi slapped away Taki’s hand that was trailing down his chest. “Don’t touch me,” he hissed. “And no, you’re not that good. I’ve had better.” A picture of Eiri flashed through his mind. “Last night in fact.”

Taki looked surprised for a second and then turned angry. He stepped towards the boy, clenching his fists angrily. “Why, you filthy little whore,” he hissed back.

“That may be, but I’m not yours. Not any more.” Shuichi stepped up the other man, so that they were pressed intimately together. “And for your information, Bad Luck did get signed. Not more than half an hour ago…and by the president himself,” he added just for kicks.

Shuichi had the satisfaction of seeing Taki’s face turn purple with fury.

Not liking where this was going, Maa-kun set is beer down and stepped between the two men. He placed a hand on each of their chests and pushed them apart. “Taki, c’mon,” he told his singer, both hands on his chest now. “We have that meeting to go to, remember?” He pushed the man away from Shuichi and back towards the house.

“Alright, alright.” Taki pushed Maa-kun away from him. “Go find Ken and bring the car around,” he ordered.

Maa-kun looked at Taki suspiciously.

“Go!”

With one last look at his friend, Maa-kun vanished into the house to find the third member of their band.

Taki turned back towards Shuichi to find the boy glaring angrily at him. If looks could kill…

“I don’t know what company would sign Sad Fuck, but Ask’ll be big,” he assured the boy. “While we’re playing sold old concerts all over the world, your sad little band will be stuck playing two bit, second rate bars and taverns for a bunch of drunk, overweight, horny men who’ll take one look at you and know the only thing you’re good for is good quick fuck.”

Shuichi gritted his teeth in irritation and annoyance. His hands clenched into tight fists. The beer can in his hand was reduced to a flat piece of metal. His hand was slick and sticky from the beer that had split out.

A honk echoed through the still, late afternoon air. Taki glanced towards the house. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said with a mock bow. “I have a meeting to go to.” Like a switch had been flicked, the sly smile vanished and was replaced with a heated mask. “And when I return,” he hissed, stepping nose to nose with the boy, “I’ll show you what happens to little fuckers who don’t do...as…they’re…told. I’ll make sure this new beau of yours wants nothing more to do with you after tonight.”

Shuichi despite himself, shivered at the threat. Hot, angry tears filled his eyes. While most people are all talk and full of hot air, when Taki made a threat, he always carried it out and with vengeance. He was the only person Shuichi truly was afraid of.

Savoring the reaction, Taki smiled with an ‘hmph’ and vanished inside the house.

Shuichi glanced after the man. He hated Taki more than words could say. He hated him with a passion. Dammit! He threw the crushed beer can across the yard, hearing it land in a bush somewhere out of sight. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the beer can Maa-kun left besides his rock. Wiping his tear blurred face; he grabbed and chugged down the bitter amber liquid.

*

The ex-temple was beginning to wake when the thirty year old owner returned an hour later. A black Mercedes rolled up the driveway, parking besides the other dozen or so vehicles.

A well groomed man dressed in a black suit stepped out. Pocketing his keys, he shut the car door and walked to the front door. It opened as he reached for the doorknob.

“Kizou,” said a young man dressed in nothing but a pair of baggy sweat pants. His hair was mused, his dark roots contrasting sharply against the white blond coloration. The boy, who did not look much older than Shuichi, glanced over his shoulder. He bit his lip, a look of fear on his face.

“Narata,” Kizou stated calmly.

“Um…”

Kizou raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to let me in my home or make me stand out here all night?”

Narata opened his mouth, but a drunken slur from somewhere in the house cut him off. The boy glanced over his shoulder then slowly turned back to Kizou, gulping at the furious expression on his bosses face. His eyes grew wide. Taking a step back, he held his hands up as to ward off a blow. “It wasn’t me! I swear! Kizou-“

Swearing furiously, Kizou pushed the younger man aside and stormed into the house. “Who then?” he demanded.

Narata raced after Kizou. “I…I don’t know! I just…just woke up!”

Kizou marched through the house, throwing open all the doors along the way, searching for the drunk boy.

The house had half a dozen bedrooms plus the kitchen, dining room, bathroom and living room. Each one had at least half a dozen people either snoring softly or just waking up, but none of them was who he was looking for. He entered the kitchen and saw Kisa and Shinichi cooking breakfast.

“Where is he?” he asked them heatedly.

Kisa said nothing and hunched over the stove. Shinichi turned from the cupboard, a stack of plates in his hands. The twenty-three year old looked at him calmly. “I think he headed into your room.”

“Who gave him, beer?”

Shinichi shrugged. “Either Taki or Maa-kun. They were the only ones up when you dropped Shu off earlier.”

Kizou growled. “Where are they now?”

“At that meeting,” he said, turning back to the cupboard.

“Call me when they return.”

“Sure.”

Kizou turned on his heel and marched towards his bedroom, pushing a frightened Narata who had plastered himself to the wall. He burst into his bedroom, the shoji door slamming into the pocket. He stood in the doorway, glaring at the boy angrily, but his anger quickly vanished and turned into amusement. Crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned against the door jam and watched as a drunken Shuichi danced around the bedroom in nothing more than a pair of leather pants.

The pink haired singer twirled about the bedroom, his arms stretched out on either side of him and his head hanging back. The boy’s mouth was open wide as he laughed joyously.

A smile graced Kizou’s lips. Pushing away from the doorframe, Kizou slid the door closed behind him as he sauntered across the room towards the boy. He loosened his tie and chucked off his suit coat, tossing it over his shoulder.

Shuichi stopped spinning, but the room swayed and the floor tilted under his feet. Off balance, the singer staggered, crying out in surprise. His arms flailing like windmill, he laughed and toppled backwards onto the bed, bouncing lightly. The boy smiled with a sigh. He closed his eyes and hummed a tune Kizou did not recognize.

Kizou slipped off his tie and tossed it to the floor. He walked around the bed and gazed down lustfully at the boy sprawled out on the mattress. Shuichi’s arms were stretched out on either side of him. His skinny legs were bent, knees pointed at the ceiling and feet planted on the edge of the bed, toes dangling off. His eyes were still closed, a carefree smile on his face. Kizou planted himself between Shuichi’s legs and ran his hands up and down the boy’s thighs.

Shuichi giggled and opened violet eyes. “Hey, Kizou,” slurred with a laugh.

“Shuichi.”

“Your name…sounds like…kitty.” The boy laughed hysterically.

Kizou raised an eyebrow and smirked. He ran his hands back down Shuichi’s thighs and across his jean clothes crotch. He was rewarded with a hiss and a needy moan. A satisfied smile slid across his face. A quick glance at the boy’s face assured him that Shuichi was enjoying himself and the attention he was getting.

This was the only reason why he loved it when Shuichi got plastered. The downside was what happened afterwards. That was why he did not like him drinking.

“How many beers did you have?” he asked Shuichi curiously, as he unzipped his pants.

“One,” Shuichi cried out proudly, holding up a finger.

Kizou raised an eyebrow. “Really?” If it had been anyone other than Shuichi, he would not have believed it. One, Shuichi could not hold his liquor to save his life. A thimble full of sake had Shuichi all loopy. Two, he could not tell a believable lie if his life depended on it and being drunk made the boy act like he had ingested a truth serum.

“Uh, huh,” Shuichi nodded with a giggle.

“Hmmm.” Kizou ran his hands up the boy’s chest. His fingers circled Shuichi’s nipples, massaging them to life. Shuichi sighed and “mmm’ed”. When he tweaked the buds, Shuichi inhaled sharply then giggled, squirming as Kizou’s hand trailed lightly down his sides.

“That tickles,” Shuichi laughed, curling on his side.

Kizou chuckled.

“You want me,” Shuichi teased slyly, looking at him out of the corner of his eye.

“Damn straight,” Kizou growled. He pushed Shuichi onto his back and straddled him. As the kid giggled, Kizou slid a hand under his underwear and grabbed his cock, stroking it to life.

Shuichi tossed his head back and arched his back, raising his hips. A low moan escaped his lips. Kizou removed his hand and stood up, unbuttoning his shirt. Shuichi watched him, his whole face smiling. He giggled. “Guess what?”

“What?” Kizou stripped his shirt off, tossing it over his shoulder.

“I was with someone last night,” he mocked whispered.

“Really,” he growled, feeling the first stirrings of jealousy. That would explain why he did not show up after his gig.

Shuichi nodded. He glanced around to make sure nobody could over hear the next part. He staggered to his knees and crooked a finger at his boss. The man leaned down so that Shuichi could whisper in his ear. “I think I love him.”

Kizou stilled. He could put up with, to an extent, Taki having his way with Shuichi, but another guy? Someone who stolen this boy’s heart? Oh, no. No way in bloody hell!

“I think he got me pregnant,” Shuichi added in that same mock whisper.

That stopped Kizou cold. He watched Shuichi flop back onto the bed and roll around on the mattress, laughing gleefully, a gigantic smile on his face. Kizou had never seen the boy happier in the year he had known the boy. His whole face was glowing. His eyes were sparkling. But Kizou had never been more enraged in his entire life. Not only had some other guy stolen his Shuichi from him, but had most likely gotten him pregnant? He could forgive the fact that Shuichi was one of those freaks if it was his child he was carrying, but some other dudes? No. Not going to happen. He would wave it all off to the fact that the kid was as drunk as a skunk, but the boy lacked the ability to lie.

Growling, Kizou clenched his hands. “Get out,” he snapped.

Shuichi’s laughter was silenced like a switch had been flicked. Blinking, he sat up and looked at him in confusion. “What?”

Kizou rounded the bed and grabbed Shuichi’s arm, dragging him off the bed and out of the bedroom.

Suddenly sober, Shuichi tugged against the painful vise-like grip on his arm. He planted his feet on the floor. “Kizou,” Shuichi whined. “You’re hurting me! Kizou!”

The other occupants of the house were startled away as Kizou dragged Shuichi kicking and screaming through the house. Whispers, stares and pointing followed the couple. “What’s going on? What’s happening?”

“What did I do?” Shuichi asked the man, tears flowing down his face. He dragged his feet and hit the hand clamped around his arm. “Kizou! Please!”

Kizou slammed open the front door in a fury and disgusted haze. He marched down the drive past the cars, still pulling a reluctant and hysterical Shuichi behind him. He tossed the boy down the driveway. Shuichi lost his balance and fell, hissing in pain as he skinned his shins and elbows. “Get out of here,” he snapped. “Now!”

Shuichi rolled around onto his back. “Why?” he cried. “What did I do? I don’t understand!”

Kizou gazed at his little lover’s tear drenched face and felt terrible. He truly did love this boy and he knew the boy felt something for him. It was not what he felt for him, but still, there was some sort of connection between them. He knew this was the only real home the boy had, but…He just could not do it. He had a reputation to uphold.

Steeling himself, he marched towards the boy and hunched over his quivering, half naked form. “I. Don’t. Like. Freaks,” he hissed.

Shuichi’s eyes widened and his face paled. Freak. That word echoed in his mind. Once again, he was an outcast and all because of something he could not control. Once again, he was forced to abandon his home because someone did not like who he was.

“Get the fuck out of here,” he ordered, standing back up. “And never show your face around here again!” Kizou turned his back and walked away, vanishing into the gathered group of curious onlookers.

With tears running down his face, Shuichi crossed his arms over his chest and walked miserably down the drive. Behind him, Narata called out to him, Shuichi’s shirt, shoes and backpack in his arms, but the boy kept on walking, never once looking back.

“Are you sure it’s okay to just let him leave like that?” asked his shadow and bodyguard, Yutoshi.

“Don’t worry,” Kizou assured him. If the boy really did have a new beau and a baby on the way, the last thing he would do was put them in danger by squealing. No, Shuichi was not the kind of person who went for revenge, no matter what was done to him.

“But, Kizou! You can’t-“

Kizou rounded on the man. “I can and I will!” He glanced at his subordinates. “If you have a problem with the way things are run, then bring it on! Otherwise, shut your face and get to work!” He spun on his heel and stormed into the house, slamming the door with enough force to crack it.

*

Shuichi staggered down the street, blinded by tears, his mind hazy from the lasting affects of alcohol and shock. He pushed past the throng of people, deaf to their angry protests and exclamations. He wandered the streets, lost in his own world and blind to the world around him.

An angry horn, squealing breaks and screams startled him back to reality. Slowly, he turned towards the noise. He blinked as a jeep-truck served his way.

***