Work Text:
Osaka, Japan (1994)
One step away from entering the convenience store, its doors sliding open, Hyde pauses. Licking his lips, he sniffs the air.
Oh. Suddenly giddy, he barely twitches when two school girls bump into him, nodding at their stuttery apologies and sugary sweet perfume. He’s here. He spins around to leave, appetite thirsting for something — someone — else, when a man shoves him out of the way.
Hyde wrinkles his nose — he stinks, reeking of alcohol and cigarettes. Not that I can judge, he thinks idly as he watches the man stumble after the two girls, a heavy smoker himself and living with two others. The man pauses, clearly a less-than-intelligent thought finally forming — Hyde is curious though, has a minute to spare, and waits.
The man staggers up to him, a bottle of cheap beer still in his hands, and leans down to leer even though he isn’t much taller. Hyde bares his teeth when the man takes the imperious tilt of his head as an invitation.
“Hi, pretty” — god, how he wants to put him into the dirt — “what are you doing here by yourself?”
Hyde rolls his eyes. Yes, the convenience store still an hour from midnight. How dangerous. Granted, this was not the safest neighbourhood, but the faux worry is unnecessary. Especially for him.
“Smelled something good,” Hyde says, grin spreading and knife sharp. Behind him, the convenience store doors slide open again, a businessman taking a quick glance at them before hurrying off, dinner hanging from his hands. His nose twitches. On sale bento. “Unfortunately, it isn’t you.”
The man reaches for him and Hyde dances away, shoving him back hard until they are a few steps away from the door. He laughs at the man’s outraged growl, more a whine than anything, and his pathetic attempt to grab at him again. Catching his wrist, Hyde snarls, his grip hard enough that the man drops the bottle. It shatters.
If the man was sober, he might have realized that something is very, very wrong here. The amused rumble in Hyde’s voice, and, beyond his pretty face, his teeth. Alas.
The man tries to pull his wrist free, but Hyde has been tetchy all evening and if he is to chase him after — and he will, he isn’t going to fucking deny himself that — he needs to get all that out now. He doesn’t let go, not until he snaps the man’s wrist, and holding on still, grip tightening as he drags him closer.
The man screams — fuck, even that is annoying, but the dawning horror on his face, he wants to eat it, wants to dig his fingers into him and break him. Despite the commotion, the rest of the street — haggard businessmen and women, a couple sharing a smoke by the railing — ignores them. Hyde growls, irritation pricking, tearing at his skin. He aches to—
To do what? What can you do? It sounds suspiciously like Tet-chan which only irritates him more.
If someone was plucked off the streets, if the man had dragged him into a little side alley, would anyone in this shitass city care?
What to do, what to—
Hyde freezes. He drops the man’s wrist, barely aware of him stumbling away — the smell of him stronger now, turning into the side alley a block away, so close, so close.
His. His.
Hyde turns on his heel and runs.
At the mouth of the alley, Hyde sidesteps a puddle. He flicks hair back from his eyes — no longer curls, not like when Tet-chan had seen — but the length just as long. He doesn’t have particular feelings for it, but it is nice when Ken-chan brushes his hair for him during breaks and hilarious when Sakura grumbles at him for taking too long in the shower. Hyde would linger longer to lather extra conditioner just to spite him if they had the money for it.
His fans call him an angel — perhaps the furthest descriptor from what he really is and what he feels like, especially now.
Playing god — it may be egoistic to think so, but it is not entirely untrue when he is chasing.
The one he is waiting for turns into the alley, and oh, oh he can smell him even more strongly now. Hyde’s cheap cologne and remembered pleasure. His.
He does not see him yet but that’s fine, Hyde thinks, licking his lips, eyes glowing a faint yellow. Tapping a finger against his thigh, he waits, waits until he sees him, his eyes most likely; his little gasp, the speed up of his heart — Hyde can get himself drunk on it.
Run, Hyde thinks, boots slamming into a puddle he doesn’t bother dodging as he dashes down the alley. Try to get away.
He turns out of the alley, long legs straining, and Hyde slows just a bit. The sense of false security can be fun, when they think they have lost him, when they think he has lost. But Hyde doesn’t lose, not in a game like this, not when it has been rigged from the start.
Into another alley — they are getting closer to the shabby apartment Hyde shares with the other three — he almost reaches the end where the shops are, lights beckoning, when Hyde grabs him. Pulling him back by the waist, he yelps, stumbling and crashing into Hyde’s chest.
He struggles but gives up almost immediately, pressing back and slacking in Hyde’s hold to catch his breath. Hyde laughs, a low rumble, tipping his head up to purr into his ear.
“Caught you.”
“Hyde!” Ken relaxes in his arms, laughter bright as Hyde presses close.
Mine, mine, Hyde thinks happily, nuzzling his neck. “Careful,” he murmurs. “Or someone will steal you away.”
“Don’t be silly, who would?” Me. Hyde tugs at Ken’s jacket with a low grumble and Ken shrugs it off his shoulders for him. “Besides,” Ken starts, tilting his neck to give him more space. Hyde hums appreciatively, biting into his shoulder, gentle without breaking skin. It would leave a mark though, which is partially the point. “I feel like our fans would want to steal you away instead.”
Tensing, Hyde bites down harder, the contact soothing the itch under his skin. Fuck. I wish I had at least punched the guy. When Ken hisses, he hastily pulls his mouth away. “Sorry.”
“No, it’s okay.” Ken tugs at his hands still around his waist, pressing back into Hyde’s hold. “Did something happen?”
“Just an idiot. You should be more careful,” Hyde murmurs sullenly. He laps at the bite, Ken’s little groan encouraging. No sense of danger, he thinks, both parts fond and frightened for him.
“I knew it was you,” Ken says softly, playing with Hyde’s fingers before lacing them together. “But you like it when I run.”
“I like chasing you,” Hyde admits, almost too quiet to hear. I’ll always catch you, he doesn’t say and knows it is because Ken will always let him. They stay like this, the seconds ticking away, ticking closer to midnight but Hyde doesn’t want to move. He knows their time is up when he smells before he sees, smiling into Ken’s shoulder before a pair of heeled boots step into his vision.
“Tetsu!”
“What are you two doing here?” Tetsuya sighs, exasperated no doubt at Ken’s state of undress — only his jacket, Hyde wants to quip, he still has his pants on. When he looks up, meeting Tetsuya’s eyes, it is the same look he had given him when he had first seen Hyde in his entirety.
His joke catches in his throat.
Bodies at his feet. Glowing yellow eyes. Sharp, sharp teeth.
One little band leader that seems to know everything.
Hyde doesn’t need a mirror to know what he looks like. What he obviously, obviously is.
And now, Tetsuya knows. He should have known he could never have kept this from him for long. Should have known Tetsuya would follow him. Discrete little alley, my ass.
“Well,” Hyde says, unable to keep the snarl from his voice, disappointment already sinking in. Fuck. “Am I fired?”
Uncrossing his arms, Tetsuya steps over the bodies — one man twitches, groans; look, Hyde wants to say, at least they’re still alive. Looking up from under his curls, hair loosened from its band during the fight, Hyde keeps his eyes on Tetsuya who, at least, doesn’t look angry.
But Tetsuya is not the type to throw a punch when he is angry. No. He would ruin his budding career in Osaka, get him blacklisted if he truly wanted. But…
Tet-chan doesn’t care, Hyde realizes when the other man steps closer. The light shitty and flickering but enough to recognize only exasperation and exhaustion on his face. Of course, he almost laughs, straightening from his crouch to stand.
As long as what he is doesn’t get in the way of the band, of his ambitions, Tet-chan doesn’t care.
“Did anyone see?”
“No one that’s conscious or sober.”
Tetsuya sighs, reaching out for him. To Hyde’s relief, what comes out of his mouth is—
“Let’s go home.”
“Must you be like that with Sakura?”
Pursing his lips, Hyde turns to worry his teeth on Tetsuya’s shoulder. The other man sighs, flipping through his notebook to scribble down a note. They have time in the studio today but instead of practicing, they have settled — Hyde leaning most of his weight on Tetsuya to be annoying — on the ratty, old couch instead.
Ken’s shift at the jewelry store a few blocks down hasn’t ended yet and Sakura is late.
Perhaps understandably so since Hyde had snapped at him last night and nearly gave him a black eye. Sakura had stormed out — and Tetsuya had not stopped him; starting a brawl in the apartment would be worse — after being punched in the cheek while Hyde stalked to his futon across the room with a glare only Ken tries to approach when he gets like that.
It will be a nasty bruise, but at least it wasn’t his eye.
“Need I remind you that you actually like him?” Tetsuya says, more to his notebook than to him.
Hyde grumbles into his shoulder, biting down harder. He pulls back only to murmur, “When he isn’t being a shit.”
Tetsuya hums. He doesn’t believe him. Somehow, Hyde feels irritated enough — by Sakura or by Tet-chan’s dismissal, he doesn’t know. So close to the full moon, he feels everything more — to justify himself. “I like him when he isn’t being annoying,” he adds.
“When you met, you nearly broke his wrist,” Tetsuya reminds him, amusement colouring his voice. Looking up, the quirk of his lips soothes Hyde’s mood just a little.
“At least it wasn’t his arm. And I didn’t break any bones this time. You should be proud of me, Tet-chan.”
Dropping his pen, Tetsuya reaches to tug gently at his hair. He lets him. “He needs two functioning arms to play the drums, you know.”
Hyde whines as if he did not know himself, but it is fun to play and for Tetsuya to indulge him. “Does he need his knees?”
“Unfortunately.”
Whatever bargain Hyde wanted to make regarding injuries he can get away with is interrupted by Ken peeking his head into the studio. “You two aren’t even working,” he teases, smile bright.
“We were waiting for you, darling,” Hyde purrs, the seductive lilt to his voice making Ken laugh. Tetsuya rolls his eyes.
“You’re late, Ken-chan,” Tetsuya says, more inquisitive than annoyed. Next to him, Hyde tenses. He had been distracted by his thoughts, by Tetsuya’s scent, by Sakura — damn him, brat — but now that Ken is here, stepping closer, there is something wrong.
“Sorry,” Ken replies sheepishly, bringing a hand up to rub at his nape. “I got held up.”
Ken smells like cigarettes and cologne – the usual – and Hyde – good – but also perfume and someone else. Sweet and fruity; it doesn’t belong on him. His fingers twitch. He wants to crowd him, press him close, wants to chase him, wants to—
That’s his—
Sitting up, Hyde makes to stand, freezing only when Tetsuya curls a hand around his wrist, his grip hard. He turns to him, a snarl on his lips as Tetsuya meets his eyes, his posture calm and steady.
“Ken-chan, come sit here,” Tetsuya says, beckoning with his hand, eyes still on Hyde. His grip is grounding and Hyde focuses on that feeling, taking a breath and lowering his head to nuzzle Tetsuya’s shoulder in apology.
He is not normally like this, not with them, is proud of his control and has rebuked Sakura for his behaviour with the band before, human though he is. Hyde won’t deny that he can be impulsive — ‘can?’; the Tet-chan in his head has a quirked brow that he scowls at — has gotten into more fights than Tetsuya would like, but he—
Tetsuya’s grip tightens and Hyde wants to laugh. As if he can read his thoughts, of course, Tet-chan has some kind of special power when it comes to them.
He can control himself, even if— even if he is irritated at the other lingering in Ken’s scent. It could have been a customer, he tries to convince himself, teeth worrying at his bottom lip.
“Hyde?” He almost startles at Ken’s voice by his feet, who blinks up at him, having plopped down between them when he was too focused on his own thoughts. Chin on his knee and waiting, Hyde doesn’t want to deny Ken. Or himself. Tetsuya nudges him, not enough to jostle him off his shoulder, but encouraging.
“Hey,” Hyde greets back softly, reaching out to cup his cheek, Ken meeting him halfway and pushing into his palm. He rubs against Hyde’s wrist a few times before settling with a hum — scenting himself, Hyde thinks fondly, flushing a little. “How was work?”
Ken shrugs, the movement small, still pressed against his knee. The weight of him is comforting. “Just the usual. You okay?”
“I’m fine,” Hyde replies and finds it to be the truth. Too much energy under his skin and tetchy irritation shoving at him, it sucks. It sucks but…
Beside him, Tetsuya makes an incredulous noise, more out of concern than anything else. Hyde may not have special powers — of this sort anyway — when it comes to them, but he can read their little band leader very well. He thumps against Tetsuya’s shoulder a little harder than necessary, giggling when he nearly tips over. Tetsuya grumbles, righting himself and shoving back, but he is laughing too and it’s fine.
Because he has them. Has this.
Watching them, Ken smiles, pressing a kiss to his wrist before turning to unpack his guitar and leaning back against Hyde’s legs. He strums a few chords, humming under his breath as Hyde flips his own notebook open. “Oh,” Ken starts absently. “Gyoza is on sale, do you want?”
“Sakura will want fish; how does the budget look?” Tetsuya replies, reaching for his bass guitar.
It’ll be okay. Running a finger up and down Ken’s nape before ruffling his hair, Hyde lingers a while longer, just shy of curling his fingers in his hair. When he returns to leaning against Tetsuya’s shoulder, he begins to write.
Except Tet-chan does care, Hyde thinks belatedly, eyes on the moon, their futons pushed together to share one tiny window. Considered him pack in the closest equivalent in human terms even if Ken and Tetsuya will never fully understand. Considered Hyde his and later theirs the night Tetsuya reached for him, disregarding the bodies at his feet, never flinching from his eyes, his teeth.
And Ken who had never been afraid, baring his neck and letting Hyde chase.
Hyde rubs at his cheek, looking away to tug Ken down and keeping him close as he giggles into his shoulder. Settling on his other side, Tetsuya calls his name, worry clear even as he whispers to not wake Sakura.
Hyde purrs, low and soothing, before returning his eyes to the window.
His pack. His.