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Daisuke could only watch as the maids wrapped the dead body in front of him with white blankets. It’s too thin. He saw the blood seep through the fabric, growing bigger and bigger until the blanket became fully red with only a few spots of white to be seen.
His parents continued to reassure him that it was an accident. They could just buy him a new one, a better companion. But what did they know? Who were they to speak as if they didn’t leave him all alone in the manor everyday? Ace was his family, even more so than his biological ones.
Daisuke didn’t know what to feel.
Ace’s body was laid in front of him. He was dead. His eyes were shut, lacerations found all over him. He wasn’t coming back. There would be no one chasing after him as he ran around the garden nor would there be anyone playing catch with him. Daisuke was alone, like he once was again.
“Can I… can I touch him?” He asked, legs itching to run over and truly see for himself.
His mom sighed. She didn’t look too happy about it. “No. You’ll get your clothes dirty.” With a wave of her gloved hand, the maids carefully carried the bloodied golden retriever out of the room. Daisuke’s eyes followed them until they were no longer in sight.
“I killed Ace,” he murmured. The words echo in his head again and again.
His mom examined him. She wasn’t shocked, nor did she show any emotion. Daisuke doesn’t remember the last time she had smiled. A genuine smile– not the ones she would put on when the feet long chandeliers stood above her in a room full of politicians and men of great power, but the ones that reached her eyes and showed her eye wrinkles.
“You didn’t kill that dog,” she said. She glanced at him and sighed again. It seemed as if that’s all she had been doing around him lately. Sighing. “It was killed by the car that ran over it.”
“But if I–”
“Daisuke.”
All excuses died down. Daisuke looked at his shoes in shame.
“Mr. Ito already paid for it’s burial and even gave money for you to buy a new one. Just get the bigger ones. Don't get a puppy,” his mom said before turning to leave.
It wasn’t money. Money wasn’t something that crossed Daisuke’s mind. But because Ace was his and breathing. Something he had spent his days caring for. Something he was responsible for yet did nothing but bring to his demise. If only he hadn’t played catch. If only he didn’t throw it over the tall, black gates. If only he didn’t open it while the guard napped. If only he hadn’t told Ace to get the ball back. The one thing he wanted to take care of ended up being the only thing he couldn’t.
Daisuke’s body didn’t shake. Not a sweat or tear dropped. He was sad, so incredibly sad to the point of wanting to scream and turn his room upside down. He failed. He always did. Maybe if he was more like his cousins, outstanding and so very brilliant at their young age, he wouldn’t. Maybe Ace would still be alive.
But he didn’t want his mom to know and so he stood still and quiet, just like she would tell him to, until his tiny legs and mind gave out.
People and animals were always so fragile, set with a limit. They were bound to disappear. His mom never mentioned anything about a dog again. Daisuke didn’t either.
____________________
Daisuke was face to face with a mural of angels when he woke up, the light temporarily blinding him, sweat dripping down his neck. The thick, black velvet sheets did nothing to help in cooling him down.
He slowly sat up, tossing the blanket aside and welcoming the instant chill that came along.
A dream? No, a memory. Just a memory that he had forced locked, key never to be seen again. It’s been years since Ace had entered his thoughts and Daisuke hoped he never did. The photo albums in his library full of photos with his golden retriever during his years as a child, remained untouched for a reason. It was an odd thing to remember out of the blue, but he supposed dreams were something humans could never fully grasp.
He never bothered to get another pet after Ace’s death. The trauma of it was just too much for him. He couldn’t handle watching something, someone, he adores disappear again.
He turned to his side and saw an empty space, not a sleeping detective as he had hoped. He realized quickly that all the pieces of clothing which were supposed to be scattered around the room, from hands too eager to feel skin, had disappeared. He slipped out of the bed and into his robe, lighting a cigar on his way out of the bedroom.
The mild panic within disappeared when he saw Haru slumped on the coach, a bowl of fruits in his hand, wearing nothing but a sweater. Daisuke’s sweater.
Daisuke’s lips turned up to a small smile, remembering when his closet had been ransacked by the brunette and his collection of colored sweaters were discovered. They're all too overpriced with horrid patterns, Haru said. (Daisuke doesn't point out that his eyes were shining as he looked through all of them.) Yet here he was lounging about with it as if he owned it. With how often he wore it, it might as well be his. Belatedly, Daisuke realized that he didn’t quite mind seeing Haru in his clothes.
His father had gifted him the sweater and had miscalculated his own son’s size. Therefore, Daisuke never had much desire to wear it. Loose sweaters weren’t too appealing to a man who spent most of his days in tight suits costing more than an average man’s rent. The sweater was too big on him, reaching just a few inches above his knees. It was more of a dress in his case. But on Haru, it appeared more, well... pleasing. The sleeves were a tad bit too long and it still reached pass his waist but seeing Haru’s soft thighs on display was a sight to behold. Daisuke looked away when he realized he's been staring for too long. Not now, Kanbe. Not now.
“Nice sweater.”
Haru instantly looked back when he heard the voice, abandoning the dull weather report. Daisuke thought it was strange how just being able to capture Haru’s attention and having it focused on him entirely was enough to make his heart do even stranger things.
“Sorry,” Haru said, though he didn’t sound all that sorry with the way he’s blankly staring at Daisuke. After all, this wasn't the first time he had stayed over and borrowed his clothes. In truth, it’s becoming more of a norm. If Daisuke had no qualms then, he wouldn’t now. “The clothes last night got stained so I placed it in the laundry for a bit.”
“Oh? Stained with what?”
“Y'know… my-” Haru paused and narrowed his eyes at Daisuke, cheeks tinting a light pink. “You’re an asshole. You know that, right?”
Daisuke smugly smirked. So easy to get worked up, he thought.
Their relationship now, whatever it may be, was a curve they both hadn’t expected. Neither had the brightest impression on each other, and there wasn’t a moment of redemption in which they had changed to suit one another's ideal. They both stayed the same, unchanging, and maybe that’s what they needed. Haru was just as stubborn, ready to throw himself in front of a bullet if it meant justice. Daisuke still used his privilege to his advantage, and really it was better this way. It was a nice reassurance knowing despite the world around them changing, there was a constant fixation right beside them.
It took three bottles of wine before either made a move. Was it him or was it Haru? The memory of who initiated it was foggy. All he could remember was the feel of soft lips and the burning need to ravage him.
“Haru.”
Haru doesn’t pay attention this time, petty and most likely still blushing.
“Haru,” Daisuke called out again, putting his cigar’s burn out with a nearby ashtray.
“What do you want now? I’m busy,” Haru grunted, though he doesn’t sound too upset.
“Come here.”
It’s quiet for awhile. He doesn’t understand why Haru had to put up a prideful act in front of him. He’s long been used to obliging the demands of Daisuke, albeit not without an insult or two thrown in. Though, Daisuke couldn’t complain as this pride of his had grown to be quite charming to him.
“No, you’re smoking,” Haru replied after a beat. It was a weak excuse as a last resistance.
Daisuke scoffed. “I”m not. Come here, now.” He watched as Haru stood, grumbling to himself about spoiled brats. He’s like an overgrown chihuahua, Daisuke briefly thought. He always had something to say, but was always so obedient in the end. Just for me.
His eyes travel from his uncombed hair down to his thighs and couldn’t stop the feeling of satisfaction when he sees the purple bruises he left all over still blooming brightly. This was a sight solely for him to see.
Haru looked at him questioningly. “What is it? Are you okay?”
Slipping his arms around Haru's waist and pulling him closer, Daisuke hummed. He leaned his forehead against Haru’s collarbone, hiding a grin when he spotted the other marks on his body. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
It’s funny how just a few months back, he was found in bed with women whose names he’d forget by the morning. No marks. No traces. No bounds. Just the way he liked it, and the way it should’ve been. Yet here he was, clinging to someone he had previously disliked (or at least that's what Haru believed. Daisuke was already infatuated during their first meeting.) and feeling a strong sense of possessiveness. He wanted to make Haru his, and only his.
Haru had obviously found all this a bit out of the ordinary. Without saying anything, he slowly placed a hand behind Daisuke’s back and rubbed it comfortingly, the other going up and patting his hair. They stay that way for a few minutes, Daisuke getting a bit lost within his thoughts.
It’s Haru who pulled away first, just enough to give them space to talk. “Go take a shower, I’ll make you coffee.”
Daisuke frowned and looked at him as if he was joking.
Haru stared back challengingly. “Yes, I’m ordering you, The Great Daisuke Kanbe, to take a shower. Go.”
He ignored the jab and instead pulled Haru back to their earlier position. Showering could wait. Though common, it wasn’t daily that Haru stayed the night and it was even rarer for them to be together in the morning without fussing about to get ready for work. “Just let the cook do it.”
“Can’t,” Haru said, resigning to his fate and patting Daisuke in the back again. “I told Mr. Favre to take a day off. You need to learn to be more independent. He said you didn’t even know how to cook basic meals!”
This time it’s Daisuke who pulled away, brows raised incredibly high, surprised. “What?”
“He said you don’t know how to cook basic meals.” It took awhile before Haru realized that wasn’t what Daisuke was referring to. He seemed to be a bit more hesitant, saying the next words slowly. “Oh, uh, I told Mr. Favre to take a day off.”
It wasn’t that Daisuke was bothered knowing Haru had ordered his staff around. He’s more than welcome to. He’s been secretly thinking of ways to convince him to move in anyways. The more comfortable he was with the staff around, the better. But to think that Favre would just go up and leave, without notice, just because Haru said so? Daisuke wondered when Haru started receiving enough respect and authority over them.
“Call him back.”
“No, I won’t.”
“Do you want to starve?”
“He cooked breakfast earlier.”
“Of course, he did. He is my trained chef after all.” Daisuke nods approvingly, a sudden change from his earlier tone. “I met him in Paris. He used to be a chef in Mirazur. Have you been there? It’s one of the world’s top restaurants. If you want, I can take you there.”
Haru doesn’t look the least bit impressed. If anything, he just looked more annoyed.
“What did you say to him?” Daisuke asked after getting no reply. Haru’s hands discreetly crept up to where Daisuke’s fingers were intertwined in the small of his back, making a failed attempt of breaking them apart. Daisuke only ended up tightening his grip.
“What do you mean?”
“To let him have a day off, Haru.”
“Oh…” Haru blushed in embarrassment again. “Just things.”
Seeing Haru flustered, and doing an awful job with casually dodging the question, piqued his interest. “Such as…?
“Nothing. I just told him that he didn’t have to sit in this mansion and be miserable for the rest of his life working under someone like you.”
“Right,” Daisuke said. Haru still wasn't looking at him. “And the truth?”
Haru groaned, softly pushing him away. “You’re so annoying.”
“You’re difficult.”
“You’re so small and annoying and you smell disgusting.”
“You’re becoming less creative with the insults, Haru.”
“It’s because I’ve been hanging out too much with you. The idiocy is spreading.”
“Nobody asked you to stay over last night.”
“You said you’d drive me home! All the trains were closed!”
Daisuke smiled cunningly. “I never said it would be your home. Not my problem.”
Insufferable. Absolutely insufferable. Haru clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Ah, I just told him I wanted to spend my day alone with you! Geez. Let go now. I might die if I have to smell your morning breath some more.”
Daisuke’s fingers twitched. He never had been an outspoken person. He kept his thoughts to himself, keeping a neutral balance with everyone. It’s what his parents had taught him. They were never bad parents, at least never intentionally. But they were just like everyone else, with faults. He understood their reasons more than anyone, but their constant absence had left a hole in his heart. He never, and could never, despise them. He had lived his life high up in an ivory tower, free to do whatever, because of them. He was raised to be their perfect boy– neutral and pleasant to everyone. The quieter he was, the better. But while Daisuke was never truly wordless before, mind full of remarks and witty comebacks, Haru, who had unsuspectingly wormed his way in his heart, easily made him pause in awe.
“...Stop staring.”
He snapped out his daze. Hesitantly, he let go of his grip on Haru’s waist. This time, Daisuke held his hand, gently, as if he was afraid of hurting him and that a mere graze would cause him to vanish out of his sight. Haru floundered. Daisuke had always been a flirt and a charmer, but even more so today. He wasn’t sure he could bear it any longer without turning into a puddle.
Daisuke looked at him as if he was the only thing worth looking at. There’s a glow in his cobalt eyes that Haru has grown too familiar with over time. It’s something they’re both too afraid to say out loud.
“Forget coffee, come with me to the shower,” Daisuke said, thumb rubbing the brunette’s ring finger that’s adorned with a simple, silver ring. In his own hand was a similar one.
Haru snorted, immediately pulling his hand back and ignoring the way Daisuke intensely glowered at the rejection. “Okay player, time to let go now.”
When had he become so emotionally driven? Daisuke himself doesn’t know, but as long as Haru didn’t hate it and as long as Haru continued to stay beside him, right where he belonged, he couldn’t find it in him to care. It takes a few more tugs and a promise of possibly – just possibly! – joining him in the showers later that evening before Daisuke reluctantly accepted defeat and walked off.
“Daisuke.”
He stopped in his footsteps, eyeing Haru softly.
Haru smiled brightly at him, a small fang popping up. “I’ll just be around here. Okay?”
Daisuke’s eyes widened a bit. Fuck.
I love you, he wanted to say. He wanted to tell him of how beautiful he looked when he’s angry or feeling serene. He wanted to tell him how his smile messed up his insides, tangling his heartstrings all over. He wanted to tell him how much of a fool he could turn him into. He wanted Haru to know how he found a home within him and how he longed to never go.
Daisuke sucked in a breath, turning around and walking away. “Don’t get lost. I don’t want to come out of the bath just to look for you.”
Somehow, Haru clearly heard and understood all the words that remained unsaid. Chuckling, he said, “Shut up. You stink.”
Maybe some things weren’t meant to last. Everything had an expiration date. It was the cycle of living. But this , Daisuke thinks, is something that will outlive time.