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“Can you not?”
Draken glares when Hanma laughs under his breath as he complies, taking his feet off the desk in front of them. “What’s up your ass?”
“I dunno, maybe the fact that we’re in a goddamn police station?!”
Hanma lolls his head back against his chair. “Oh c’moooon. Lighten up, man.”
The blonde hisses under his breath. “You think this shit’s funny?!”
He gets a wide grin in response. “I think it’s hysterical.”
Draken has to remind himself where they’re at to keep from throttling the other teen. This whole situation was bullshit, if you ask him.
All of Toman had been cruising down a highway when some newer members of the third division had accidently gotten off at an exit headed for Roppongi. All of the captains still had their own divisions to lead, and it seemed like a risky enough situation to not want to send out Takemichi or Kisaki, but not quite risky enough that it would warrant having Mikey separate from everyone. So, Draken and Hanma ended up being the ones tasked with finding them and getting them back to the group safely.
Thankfully, they managed to find their lost comrades quickly without running into any rival gangs. Unfortunately, they couldn’t say the same about the police. They’d been able to lead the police away from the others, but they just didn’t know these streets well enough to lose them completely.
So now here Draken is, sitting in a police station next to Toman’s most annoying member as a couple of cops whisper to each other and sneer at them, just because some rookies couldn’t figure out the different lanes on a damn freeway.
He makes eye contact with one of them and gets a dirty look for it. He figures the two of them must look particularly criminal, both easily clearing 180 centimeters, him with a dragon on his shaved head and Hanma with kanji on each hand, and decked out in clothes that’s pretty obviously gang uniforms.
Usually he sees his own intimidating presence as an advantage, a way for him to disarm his opponent before ever throwing a punch. Now, though, he just counts himself lucky these cops even believed them when they said they’re fifteen.
After a few more poorly hidden glares, one of the officers that brought them in finally stalks over with a pen and a notepad in his hands. He’s looking at them like he’d rather be doing anything else than dealing with them, and the expression deepens when Hanma gives him a wide, taunting grin.
“Alright, since you’re both minors, we’re required by law to contact your parents, let them know what you’ve been up to tonight.” He jerks his chin at Hanma. “You, what’s your dad’s name?”
The boy in question snickers under his breath. “Fuck if I know.”
He gets a disapproving frown in response, though Draken’s not sure if it’s at the language or the answer itself. “How about your mom then?”
Hanma shrugs, a lazy smile still in his face. “Whatever’s written on her tombstone, probably.”
The man’s downright seething now, looking like his badge is the only thing keeping him from committing assault on a minor. Draken can’t even blame him, considering the casual attitude Hanma has about all of this.
He turns his attention towards the blonde, clearly hoping he’ll get better answers out of him. Well, shit.
“What about you, what’s your mom’s name?”
Draken flexes the muscle in his jaw. “I don’t remember.”
The cop looks at him like he’s trying to call his bluff, but it’s the truth. He was too young when his mom left to ever learn her name. Besides, he doesn’t think he’d want to see her again even if he knew it, especially not under these circumstances.
“Then what’s your dad’s name?”
Draken sighs, knowing that after Hanma’s little show he probably seems like he’s bullshitting when he says, “I dunno.”
Sure enough, the guy throws his notepad down in frustration. “What’re you, brothers or something?!”
Hanma throws his head back and cackles as Draken fights the urge to bury his head in his hands. “We’re two punk ass teenagers in a biker gang, you seriously think either of us got parents?”
The man lets out a frustrated grunt before grabbing them both by the elbow and dragging them across the room. He opens one of the holding cells and all but shoves them inside. “Sit down and be quiet. Let’s see if you’re still laughing after I’m through with you.”
He storms off, seemingly determined to make something out of paper thin evidence of any real crime having been committed by two minors without a single legal guardian between them. This guy knows damn well it’s a waste of time, that he’ll have to release them eventually. But he’s got to make a show of power, apparently, which leaves Draken with nothing left to do but sit on a bench across from Hanma and wait this whole mess out.
They sit in silence for a while until the taller of the two starts tapping a fast, off-beat rhythm against the bars. He doesn’t meet Draken’s glare, but the smile that creeps onto his face lets the other boy know he’s aware of just how annoying he’s being.
Maybe that’s why Draken doesn’t feel all that bad about broaching the subject. “So is your mom really…..”
Hanma’s fingers freeze, a look on his face like he’s impressed the other delinquent even had the balls to ask. “Killed by a john when I was four.”
Draken grimaces. He’s heard stories like that at least a hundred times by now. Not all prostitutes have the safety of a brothel like the one he lives in, one that cares enough to protect the women working there. “I’m sorry.”
Hanma waves it off easily, like it’s not even worth the condolences. “How bout you?”
“Left me at the brothel she worked at when I was two.”
For the first time in Draken’s life, the response to that is an amused snort. “Ouch. At least mine wasn’t by choice.”
He sighs, shaking his head. He doesn’t know what reaction he was expecting. Only Hanma would think to make a joke out of all this.
He expects the other boy to go back to being as annoyingly loud as possible, but instead they sit in silence as he gives Draken a considering look. “So who else knows?”
The question itself is vague, but Draken gets what he means. Who else knows you’re the unwanted product of a paid-for quickie in a back room.
“The other founding members.” And Emma, but he’s not stupid enough to bring her up right now. “You?”
“Just Kisaki. And now you, I guess.”
It’s the answer he expected. Hanma’s been in Toman for almost a year now and still doesn’t really talk to anyone but Kisaki. If it were anyone else Draken would assume it’s just a case of being a bit shy, a bit intimidated by the founding members who’ve made quite a name for themselves across Tokyo.
But it’s not anyone else. It’s Hanma, who’s completely unimpressed by everyone that isn’t Kisaki and doesn’t seem to have the survival instincts needed to be intimidated by anything. It definitely doesn’t help that he’s one of the only people to have actually blocked one of Mikey’s kicks.
Still, Draken can’t help listening to the part of himself that insists on trying to bridge whatever gap exists within his found family. “You know the rest of Toman would be there for you if you let them, right?”
Hanma gives him a look that immediately makes him regret trying. “Yeah, not really interested in the rest of Toman.”
Draken frowns. He’s not surprised, but it’s still a shit thing to say. This guy gets to walk around in a Toman jacket, gets to call himself a Chief of Staff, when he’s not even interested in Toman in the first place?
The blonde can’t help but snap, “Then why the hell did you even join?”
Hanma just shrugs. “Wanted to get to know Kisaki better.”
Draken crosses his arms, frown still on his face, as he mulls over that answer. Out of all the founding members, Kisaki’s the one he’s the least close to. He was brought in last minute by Takemichi, and if Draken’s being real honest they’d probably never have been friends otherwise.
Not that there’s anything wrong with the guy or anything. He just always comes off a little too snarky, a little too aware that he’s the smartest person in the room. Sure, Draken likes him well enough, but he’s always gotten the feeling that Kisaki follows Mikey because that’s what you’re supposed to do in a gang, not because he actually believes in Mikey the way the rest of them do.
Safe to say, Draken really never understood why Hanma started following him around like a lovesick puppy the moment they met, and he definitely doesn’t like the idea that there’s someone else who’s less than loyal to Mikey in Toman.
He looks up to see that Hanma’s gone back to being bored, blowing air through his closed lips to make a new, equally annoying sound. Draken pushes past his irritation and decides fuck it, he might as well ask. “What’s the deal there anyways?”
“Hah?”
“Why were you so hellbent on getting closer to Kisaki that you joined a biker gang in Shibuya? Is his friendship really that important to you?”
Hanma snorts a laugh. “If you ask him, we’re barely even friends.”
He says it with a fond smile, and even Draken can’t help but crack an amused one of his own. Kisaki definitely treats Hanma more like a subordinate than a friend most of the time, despite being three years younger. It’s funny, if he’s being honest, but also all the more reason why he doesn’t see what’s got Hanma so interested.
“Still. He makes shit fun as hell.”
Draken tilts his head as he considers that. What is it about Kisaki that’s got Kabukicho’s Reaper himself so fascinated with him? He’s not particularly strong like Mikey, or particularly brave like Takemichi. Sure, he’s scary smart, but why would that even matter to someone like Hanma?
The guy’s still got that fond smile on his face, though it looks a little more distant, almost dreamy, almost as if he’s –
Oh. Well. Guess that lovesick puppy comparison wasn’t all that far off.
Draken really should keep quiet about his new little revelation. It’s not really his business anyways, and he and Hanma aren’t exactly friends either.
But it’s gotta be past midnight at this point, and the cops don’t seem like they’ll be letting them out any time soon, and Hanma’ll go back to being an annoying prick if he doesn’t keep the conversation going, so Draken’s mouth ends up moving faster than his brain. “How much fun are you guys having?”
He snaps his jaw shut, just a second too late, and curses himself for being so careless. His tone made it obvious what he meant, and the response is almost immediate.
Hanma’s eyes cut over to him, a danger flashing in them that Draken’s more than familiar with, though it hasn’t been pointed in his direction in a long time. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”
He shakes his head. “I wasn’t – I just meant –”
Hanma shifts in his seat, the laid back air about him completely gone. “You’re walking a dangerous line there, Ponytail.”
“I don’t –”
“What, you think I'm into that shit? You think Kisaki’s into that shit?”
Draken fumbles, trying to figure out how to get across that he doesn’t mean it as an accusation without digging himself further into this hole. “Look, I’m just trying to say that you’re not – I mean, it’s not just –”
He wants to say that he doesn’t mean it in a bad way, that Hanma wouldn’t even be the first member of Toman that swings that way. He wants to tell him that he was the first person Mitsuya came to for advice on sorting out his feelings for Hakkai, that it’s basically an open secret that whatever Baji and Chifuyu’ve got going on clearly goes much further than best friends.
But he can’t say any of that. Outing his friends will only get across the exact opposite of what he’s trying to make Hanma understand. He sighs, letting a tense silence settle over them as he tries to find the right thing to say.
Against his will, Emma flashes across his mind. He swallows hard, nervous and filled with doubt the way he always is when he thinks of her.
“Look, all I’m saying is I get what it’s like to wanna be with someone but having to hold yourself back. It’s not the same, exactly, but I get it.”
Hanma gives him a once over out of the corner of his eye. “Mikey’s sister, right?”
Draken’s shoulders tense as he fights the instinct to bolt, despite being the one to bring this up. He’s usually better at hiding how just thinking about his feelings for Emma affects him, but right now he’s so tired and so at a loss for how the conversation got here that he barely manages a single, jerky nod.
To his surprise, Hanma scoffs under his breath. “Yeah, don’t compare your situation to me.”
Draken blinks at that. “What?”
Hanma looks at him for a second, like he’s actually thinking about what he’s about to say for once, before bursting out a laugh. He shakes his head so condescendingly Draken would punch him if it weren’t for his next words.
“That girl’s practically got it tattooed on her forehead how desperate she is for even the smallest hint that you’re into her, and you won’t even give her that much. If Kisaki told me to chop my dick off I wouldn’t even hesitate to ask him why. Me and you aren’t the same.”
That’s – what the fuck?
Hanma says it with such pride Draken almost doesn’t know whether to be impressed or disturbed. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, clears his throat before trying to find some sort of appropriate response. In the end, all he can settle on is a simple, “It’s complicated.”
Hanma rolls his eyes. “Pfft, sure.”
“The hell does that mean?”
He suddenly turns his whole body towards Draken, who’s eyes widen at the genuine irritation he sees on the other boy’s face.
“You’re a guy, she’s a girl. You guys are, what, a year, year and a half apart? And hell, her family’d probably start planning the wedding the second the two of you even got together. Yeah, sounds real fucking complicated to me.”
“I –”
“You could marry her, if you wanted. I couldn’t hold Kisaki’s hand in public even if he let me.”
Draken swallows hard and looks away. He knows it’s true, for a lot of reasons. Being gay could ruin you in respectable Japanese society. In the delinquent world? It’s a quick way to get jumped if you’re lucky and killed if you’re not. It’s why Draken and Yuzuha are still the only ones that know about Hakkai and Mitsuya, and why the thing between Baji and Chifuyu is still something no one dares to bring up.
Then there’s the matter of the age difference, and the fact that they met before Kisaki had hit the legal age of consent. Even if they were to get together now that he’s thirteen, it’ll be years before that three year gap looks anything other than inappropriate, and there’d always be people who’d assume something downright illegal happened.
Not to even mention that Draken’s known Kisaki long enough to put together that he keeps his home life and his delinquent life separate for a reason. His parents, despite not being particularly involved, have a very specific idea of the kind of future they want their son to lead, and it sure as hell doesn’t involve a middle school dropout with tattoos on his hands and a cigarette between his teeth.
Of course, all of this is completely hypothetical. To even entertain any of it you’d have to ignore the fact that Kisaki’s into girls, so much so that he and Takemichi apparently became friends in the first place over their shared crush on Hinata back in the day.
All of Draken’s insecurities about Emma suddenly seem embarrassingly small compared to all of that. The more he thinks about it the more he realizes he probably sounds like a spoiled brat to the other teen.
Still, he can’t stop himself from insisting, “She deserves better than me.”
Hanma tilts his head at that, like he can’t argue with it. Draken finds it weirdly comforting. Any of his other friends would have fought him on it, would have insisted that he give himself more credit and that his background doesn’t mean anything in the grand scheme of things, and certainly not to Emma.
But Hanma comes from the same gutter Draken does, so there’s no point in lying about what they are.
“So?”
Draken blinks, frowning in confusion. “Huh?”
Hanma just shrugs at him. “So what if she deserves better. If she’s willing to settle then that’s her problem, ain’t it?”
The blonde gives a disgusted scoff. Of course that’d be his mindset. Of course he’d never consider making sacrifices for the people he cares about. “Not all of us are selfish jackasses like you.”
Hanma lifts his hands in mock surrender. “I’m just sayin, man. If I stopped myself from having something I wanted just cuz I don’t deserve it, I wouldn’t have shit in life.”
Draken tightens his jaw and looks down at his hands. He’d made peace with not having shit in life a long time ago. It’s why, before Mikey, he was satisfied being a lackey for some older kids despite the fact that they were losers who only picked fights they knew they could win. Wanting more for himself just isn’t in his nature.
They sit in surprisingly comfortable silence for a while until Hanma, unsurprisingly, breaks it. “You think those dumbass newbies let the rest of ’em know what happened?”
This time it’s Draken’s turn to shrug, happy to move the conversation to much more familiar territory. “Probably. They should’ve made it back to the others just fine, unless they’re total idiots.”
Hanma seems about as convinced of it as Draken is. “Mmm. Either way, Takemitchy’s probably in tears by now.”
They both burst out laughing. Maybe it’s just the delirium of being awake at damn near three in the morning with no one to talk to but Hanma of all people, but Draken finds himself thinking that maybe the guy’s not half bad after all.
The moment’s cut short by the cop that stuck them in this cell in the first place. “Alright, you hoodlums are free to go.”
Draken heaves a deep sigh as he stands up, ignoring the dirty look the man gives him as he unlocks their cell. “I don’t wanna see either of you around here again, you hear me? Go cause trouble somewhere else.”
Hanma gives the cop a cheeky wave as he saunters out of the cell, and Draken grabs him by the arm and drags him across the room to keep him from doing anything else that might make the man change his mind and throw them right back in.
They’re handed back all of their personal items that were confiscated when they were booked. Hanma pulls out a cigarette as soon as they step outside, despite the fact that they’re still very much in front of a police station and he’s still very much not twenty.
They’re led to the lot where Draken’s Zephyr and Hanma’s tacky monstrosity are being held. The blonde immediately moves to make sure the cops didn’t damage his bike when a hand suddenly grabs onto his shoulder.
“Hey.”
He turns to see Hanma giving him the most serious expression he’s ever seen on him. “In case I didn’t make it clear before. If you say anything to anyone, I’ll hang your pigtail on your goddamn gravestone.”
Draken tries to convey as much sincerity as possible when he responds, “I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”
Hanma nods, seemingly satisfied, before pulling out his phone and walking towards that thing he calls a bike. Once Draken’s sure there’s not a single scratch on his own, he gets on. He hesitates for a brief moment before asking, “Where you headed?”
Hanma shrugs, not looking up from his phone as he answers, “Same old abandoned apartment in Shinjuku. You?”
A wry smile pulls at Draken’s lips. “Same old brothel in Shibuya.”
Hanma huffs a laugh before pocketing his phone, revving his engine to life, and shooting off into the night. Bastard didn’t even bother saying a proper goodbye.
Alone, Draken checks his own phone, sighing at the mountain of texts from the other Toman members. He scans down the list, trying to decide who to respond to first despite knowing it’ll have to be Mikey unless he never wants to hear the end of it, when his eyes stop at a certain name.
Mikey told me what happened!! Are you ok??
Maybe it’s the exhaustion finally setting in. It’s three in the morning, after all, and he still has to drive all the way back to Shibuya. Back to the reminder that he’s nothing, that Emma deserves someone who’s something.
But, as Draken clicks on the text, he decides that maybe, just this once, he’s allowed to be a little selfish.
Just got out. Heading home. Tell Mikey.
—
It’s late enough that it’s more accurate to call it early morning when Hanma finally slips through Kisaki’s window.
He kicks off his boots before quietly walking up to the bed. He takes a moment to just stare at the sleeping form in front of him, looming over the other boy like the reaper people say he is.
Kisaki had clearly fallen asleep trying to wait up after Hanma had texted that he’d finally been let out. He’s lying on top of the covers, glasses smushed between his face and the pillow, with his cell phone held loosely in his hand.
Dressed in nothing but boxer shorts and a t-shirt so big it can only be Hanma’s, he looks comfortable, peaceful. Beautiful. If he were a better man, Hanma would gently take his glasses off, place his phone on the nightstand, maybe even find a spare blanket to cover him with, and let him sleep.
But, as he made clear to Draken earlier that night, he’s not a better man. He’s a selfish jackass who wants his boyfriend’s attention after such an exhausting night, so instead he shoves his finger into the plush of a tanned cheek.
He grins as the blonde bats his hand away and scowls himself awake. “Mornin, sleeping beauty.”
Kisaki blinks up at him with a frown that only deepens as he looks at the time on his phone. “You’re late.”
Hanma’s eyebrows shoot up, amused. “I didn’t know I had a curfew.”
“It shouldn’t have taken so long to get here from Roppongi.”
He says it like a fact, and Hanma grins wider at the thought that he’s probably figured out travel times for all over Tokyo. “They released us at the same time. Had to make it look like I was headed to Shinjuku.”
He starts stripping off his Toman uniform, smirking to himself when he notices Kisaki sleepily watching as he does so. “Hey, how come you never told me Draken’s mom was a whore, too?”
The other boy lifts an eyebrow as he continues to track Hanma with his eyes. “You’d prefer me to be the type of person who goes around telling people that stuff?”
“I’d prefer you to be the type of person who tells his boyfriend everything.”
He hears an unimpressed snort behind him, though whether it’s at his words or the fact that he’s struggling to detangle himself from his uniform’s sashes is anyone’s guess. “I tell you what you need to know.”
Kisaki rolls his eyes at the older teen’s pouting before stretching his arms above his head as he yawns. Adorable. “Don’t really think about it, to be honest.”
Now that’s an answer Hanma likes. In an ideal world, Kisaki wouldn’t think about anyone other than him. It already goes the other way around, so it’s only fair, right?
Once he’s down to nothing but his boxers he picks up one of his sweatshirts from where it’d been thrown onto the desk chair, pulls it on, and crawls into bed, peeling the covers back while Kisaki places his glasses on the nightstand. Once they’re settled, the blonde immediately slides right into his space, twisting small hands into the front of Hanma’s sweatshirt while the taller of the two wraps him up in his arms.
“So, did you spend four hours crying about your sad home lives?”
Hanma hums as he buries his face in bleached hair. “Mostly just listened to Draken bitch about why he hasn’t asked out the chick he’s into. Boring, woe-is-me bullshit, y’know?”
He decides he can wait until morning to tell Kisaki that Draken not only sniffed him out, but not-so-subtly implied that Toman’s full of fruit cakes. It’s not like it’ll change much except make his boyfriend even more paranoid than he is now, and Hanma’s already kept him up long enough.
He pulls back enough to graze his fingers lightly over Kisaki’s face as he feels his breath start to even out. Like every other time, he marvels at the sight of his rough hands, pale so the black ink contrasts sharply, against smooth, warm, unblemished skin.
Draken was right, hands like theirs have no business touching anything this precious. But unlike him, Hanma doesn’t have enough of a conscience to pass up the chance to defile something he never should have been allowed near in the first place.