Kyoto Doll
By: Sephielya J. Maxwell

He was a whore. Not *just* a whore, but a damn good one. I'm sorry, he *did* have a name. It was Sunaho. At least, that's what he told me his name was. Like it mattered, he was a prostitute! I was new in town. My dad owns a big-shot company back in Tokyo, but I insisted on going to school in Kyoto. It was my first week there that I saw him outside of the bars, leaning against that damn stop sign. I was with my friends, planning on getting wasted and laid before the semester started. One of them sneered and made a nasty comment about the poor whore boy who was there every night, selling his soul to the devil. I couldn't help it, I looked.

There he was 5'5'', slender as a wraith; his tight leather pants were ripped on the thighs, three on the right, and two on the left. He wore what was probably a skin tight mesh shirt at one time, but was now not more than a scrap of material, and not much. His boots came half-way up his calves, and they looked relatively new, buckles shining. His hair was a red mass that hung over his eyes as he kept them on the street. Maybe he was admiring his shoes, the only nice thing on him. He had a leather jacket slung over his shoulder. It also looked worn. My friends dragged me away from the pitiful sight and into the strip bar.

Badly proportioned women with low morals. My buddies bought me a lap dance from an eighteen year old stripper with huge breasts and two kids at home. One was six, and one was two. She was nice to talk to, once she got off work. Her name was 'Vanilla' at work, 'Mom' at home, and 'Lilly' to her dead mother. She was younger than me. When we left the bar, Vanilla Lilly Mom was hanging all over my buddy Kei, asking if he'd pay a little for some 'extra' entertainment. He said sure, and they were off. I was drunk. The boy wasn't there. I rode the trains for a few hours (I fell asleep) and when I got home to my apartment I didn't wake up until two pm the next day. It was great.

The boy was there again the next night, only he didn't have a shirt, so he was wearing his leather jacket. The white fur around the collar was rugged and dirty, and the jacket only reached the bottom of his ribs. It must have been expensive at one time. One of the buckles of his boots was missing. My friends teased me for looking, but who were they to talk? My buddy Feilong told me that sex was great with a man, it was different, but great. The others harassed him until I told them all to shut up and we drank again.

Afterwards, they all got dates but me. Kei bought Lilly again, Feilong already had a nice boy he didn't have to pay for, Nagi paid a girl, and Asahi picked up a girl three years older then him. Me? I approached the kid leaning on the stop sign.

"Want to buy me?" He asked in a lazy drawl. His eyes said he was half wasted on some kind of drug, kind of glassy and hollow, I couldn't tell the color through his bangs. It frightened me a little, but I guess it helped him deal with it.

"You're high. And filthy."

"I'm clean!" He said, offended and angry, but he looked a little ashamed afterwards. "I'll take a shower first if you want, and the drug doesn't affect my performance, Sir. . . Besides, you look kind of drunk." He surveyed. I smirked.

"Won't affect my performance none."

"7,000 Yen"

"That's a little cheap isn't it?" I asked, a little wary.

"You want to pay me more, be my guest Sir." He smiled. The kid *smiled*! It wasn't a happy smile, but it was a witty smile. I smiled to.

"7,000 it is. C'mon." He followed me without a question. Once we were in the hotel room, he took of his jacket and while he was working on his boots I sat on the bed.

"What's your name?" I asked, fascinated with the way his red hair fell around his shoulders. There was just a little of his black roots showing. He was quiet for a little bit, and I though he'd ignored me. When I opened my mouth to ask again he said it,

"Sunaho." He said quietly. I guess his name meant a lot to him. He was on me before I could ask anything else. I'd only had time to take off my shoes and socks, so he took off my shirt and opened my pants. I barely had time to be shocked before his wet warm mouth covered my cock, his lips, tongue, and teeth making me harder faster then I thought was possible. I'd only been sucked off once before, and this was nothing like it. The girl that had done it had been infatuated with me, but not even her adoring attention compared to the talent and skill of Sunaho's sweet mouth. I though I was going to die of frustration when he pulled back, moving onto the bed. Somehow he'd taken off his pants while he was sucking, and now he pulled mine off.

"I've never. . .been with a guy." I confessed, but he only smiled.

"It's okay, Sir, you don't have to do anything." He assured, wetting two fingers in his pink mouth-I couldn't imagine what for. I closed my eyes, hands tangling in his unruly red hair as I felt his soft fingers fondling what his mouth couldn't take in-which wasn't much. I thought I saw stars when he began to hum lightly, his throat vibrating with the sound. I was vaguely aware of a quiet squishing sound, and I opened my eyes, then widened them when I saw what he was doing. While his mouth and one hand worked me to the edge of exploding, his other hand was busy, two fingers buried deep into his own back passage, working furiously.

"Nn. . .what?" I asked in a daze, but he pulled back once again, and before I knew it, he was sitting on me. The alcohol must have fazed me more than I thought. His long fingers stroked my painfully erect member, guiding me to his entrance. I think I cried out as I began to penetrate him, and I know I heard him gasp. It stroked my ego a little, and I forced myself to watch the beautiful lithe teen sink down, impaling himself. His face was red, and his eyes were closed-I hadn't seen the color yet. God, he was so tight! I though his insides might crush me, but if felt so damn good. Feilong was right. Sunaho leaned back, bracing himself with one arm, his hand resting on my thigh as he slowly raised his hips, his chest rising and falling swiftly as he concentrated on what he was doing. I closed my eyes as he began to move, my hands not knowing what else to do but clutch at the cotton sheets of the bed. He was moving so hard it had to hurt him, though nothing but small gasps and moans passed his pretty lips as he continued to thrust, the cheap hotel's bedsprings creaking loudly. God, I wasn't fucking him--*he* was fucking *me*! Drowsily and almost blind with pleasure and drink, I opened my eyes and fell in love.

His head was tilted up a little, his hand twisted in his rusty sweat- dampened hair, while the hand on my thigh dug its nails in until it bled. I didn't feel it. That face, almost a boy's, flushed with passion and filled with pleasure and pain. He opened his eyes-and for the first time I saw them. Sapphire. His eyes locked onto mine and he blushed-he *blushed*! A whore! The hand in his hair released, and he slid it slowly down his body to wrap those pale slender fingers around his arousal, pumping himself in perfect sync with the movement of his hips. I thought a saw a tear slide down his cheek, but everything went red as I came hard, spilling my seed into his body. He leaned down a bit and we both panted to catch our breath. He stood and walked a little unsteadily into the bathroom. I turned on my side and watched him as he grabbed a rag and cleaned his face, his thighs, in between his cheeks. How could he have the energy to walk? My thigh stung like a bitch, but I tore my eyes away from him to reach into my discarded jeans. Pulling out my wallet I grabbed 7,500 yen and set it on the bedside table before I laid down again.

When I woke up he was gone.

I don't get it, I really don't. I have had the worst headache all time when the sunlight hits me through the blinds, and I remember that I was drunk last night. Oh, and I had sex. With a man. No, not yet a man, he was a boy. The thought didn't really faze me. Not as much as the memory its self. I still had a week before school started. And I wanted him again.

I found him the next night, and he seemed a little surprised that I wanted him again. I was more surprised though. The right side of his face sported a huge bluish bruise, and his lip was split. Where there had been an ear piercing in his right ear, there was now a large scab. He averted his eyes and mumbled about it not affecting his work, but I wouldn't hear of it.

"Come to my apartment, Sunaho." I said quietly. I think he misunderstood my reasons, but he followed me anyways. I noticed he was wearing a black shirt, as well as his jacket tonight. His eyes were hollow again. I told him to take a shower when we got to my place, and he did. I was reading a book when he came out, his red hair dripping and his towel low on his waist. His chest had some more bruises on it, and I saw track marks on his arm for the first time. He actually had a nice figure, slender and yet he was well-shaped. He fell on me, his mouth crushing against mine and I felt his hands on my pants.

"W-Wait! What are you doing?!" I asked him, grabbing his wrists.

"You brought me here for sex, right?" He asked bluntly, frowning in confusion. He looked so pretty when he was confused.

"I just wanted to know. . .where you got those marks." I half lied. It was true that I wanted to sleep with him, and I felt my jeans tightening even as I watched him sit back, a blush covering his cheeks.

"I can't stay if you don't pay me sir." He said quietly.

"I'll pay you if you tell me who hurt you." I had enough. My dad kept me well funded. I'll bet he'd die if he knew what I was spending it on. I'd tell him I bought a new TV or something.

"I. . . some guys."

"Alright. . ."

"Do you want to have sex now?"

"Yeah. . .but this time. . .let me lead." He was surprised, but he submitted to my kiss eagerly enough. His skin was baby soft, and smooth to my touch. He rewarded my attentions with small gasps and moans, and I told myself I could get hard just listening to him. I tore away the towel and smirked, nuzzling his stomach. He blushed wonderfully and stammered some sort of protest, but I dipped my tongue into his navel and he melted into my touch.

"S-Sir!" He begged weakly, his hands tangling in my long black hair.

"Fuma. Fuma Takenshi."

"T-Taken. . .shi-san!" He began again, "D-don't. . .let me. ." But I wanted to try it. He was already half erect, so I took him into my mouth, trying hard to remember what he had done to me the night before. "Ah!" He cried shrilly, and it encouraged me. He tugged at my hair, but I ignored it for a while. When I did stop, pulling back and licking my lips, he gave a small cry of dismay. The tears in his eyes surprised me, and I frowned, about to ask him what was wrong when he kissed me. Hard. His arms were around my neck, and we shared a soul-stealing kiss for a few glorious moments. I felt his slick fingers brush my thigh and I grabbed his wrist.

"Not tonight." I said smiling. His face fell again, he was crushed and confused. I wet two of my own fingers and I slid them down to his entrance.

"Takenshi-san, Let me. . .I should-Ieeyah!" He squeaked--Absolutely squeaked!-as I slid the first finger in. "You shouldn't!" Oh, his bright blush and sweet tears were too good to resist. I licked them away, and I kissed him again. He tasted like pot and alcohol, but I didn't care. I think when I noticed his taste, I realized that he hadn't kissed me once last night. "Your couch. . ." He said softly when I broke the kiss. I laughed, I couldn't help it. That seemed to be happening a lot to me lately, me not being able to help myself. God, what was I becoming? I added another finger and he squirmed, arching his hips in invitation to a third, so I gave it. He moaned, a deep and throaty sound that seemed to contrast his soft high voice. I thrust them deep, stretching them apart and back in a scissoring motion. I brushed something and his whole body jumped, his sapphire eyes going wide as another half-squeak escaped his throat. Smiling wickedly, I searched for it again and found it, brushing it hard. "Takenshi- san! Please. . !" He pleased, his hands groping at my shoulders, and his face a mask of pleasure.

"Please what, Sunaho?" I think it was his name that got him.

"T-Take me!" He almost sobbed. I removed my fingers and took off my blue button-up shirt as quick as I could, taking off my pants even quicker. Moving up, I positioned myself between his legs, a couch pillow under his hips to raise them a little, and I thrust into his tight heat. He bucked into my hips, meeting every thrust in perfect time, his hot breath in my ear as he clutched at my shoulders and back, while his legs wrapped around my waist, his nails scratching kittenishly. I was able to go longer this time, thrusting until I lost track of the time, not inhibited by alcohol and blind with pleasure like last time. Don't get me wrong, it was just as pleasurable as last time, if not more. But this time, -I- was in charge. "Harder, please!" He begged, and I complied.

I knew, as I thrust in and out of Sunaho that night, with his erotic gasps and pleas echoing in my ears, that I never wanted to share this with anyone else as long as I lived.

When I woke up the next morning, he was gone. In a panic, I check my wallet. Nothing was missing. My meager belongings were all there as well. Why hadn't he woke me up to pay him? And why had he left? I was hurt, and hurt leads to anger. I called up Feilong and bitched about it for a while, and he told me that's what I got for letting a whore into my house, and that I was lucky that he didn't steal anything. But he did steal something, something worth more than my money or my stuff. Cliché as it was, he stole my heart.

I searched for him for five whole days. I had school in two days, and I was a mess. My friends all thought I'd gone insane, searching for some boy whore instead of savoring the last of my summer. But Feilong pitied me, and he told me he'd see what he could do. Oh yeah, did I forget to mention that Fei's dad was some kind of Yakuza boss? Guess it slipped my mind. Feilong was my age, half-Chinese, with black hair longer then mine, and sharp black eyes. His skin was paler then most Japanese people, and so he stood out a little, looking kind of like a china doll. That was my nickname for him, China doll. His skin reminded me of the paleness of Sunaho's. He told me one night, while we were both drunk, that Sunaho must be my Kyoto doll. I cried, and he apologized. But he was right. And I missed my Kyoto doll. The boy Feilong'd picked up had been hanging with us all week, though I'd seen him less and less, and Fei explained that he knew how much it hurt me to watch them be happy. Did I mention, Feilong's my best friend in the world?

As promised, Feilong's leads coughed some information on the illusive Sunaho. He was sixteen, younger then I'd thought. His mother was some kind of druggie, and his father was a compulsive gambler, and a drunk. That was all anyone knew. So when I saw him again, the night before school started, I knew little more then I did when I'd started.

There were two guys about my age, 19, and another older guy crowded around a huddled body when I approached them. My dark eyes widened when I saw the face of the person they were harassing. He was curled up in a ball, his arms desperately trying to protect his face, but I recognized the hair.

"Hey!" I called angrily, "What do you think you're doing to my doll?" They turned to face me, a little put off by my nice clothes and the group of friends that stood across the street from me.

"You a client of his? He owes me money for a favor. Says he don't got it." The oldest man said, sneering. I glared.

"How much dos he owe you?"

"15,000 yen." He growled, raising his foot to kick Sunaho's curled form.

"Stop!" I shouted, reaching into my back pocket and retrieving my wallet. I removed the money and shoved it into the man's hand. "There's a little extra in there for taking such good care of my fragile doll." I said acidly. The man smirked and nudged Sunaho with his foot, who cried out in fear. They walked away and I kneeled down by the trembling human form. "Sunaho. . .Sunaho, it's alright, it's me, Fuma Takenshi." He stopped trembling, but he didn't uncover his face.

"T-Takenshi. . .san?" He said slowly.

"That's right, it's alright now, let me see your face." I pleaded, my hands on his shoulders as he sat up. He slowly uncovered his face, and it wasn't as bad as I'd feared, but it was bad. Black, blue, and greenish bruises mottled his pale skin, which was unhealthily pale in the first pace. His lips were blue, and he shivered again, even though it wasn't that cold outside. "Oh God. . .Sunaho. . ."

"I-I'm alright. . ." He said softly. "It won't effect-"

"Your performance?" I asked painfully, all of my pent up anger dissolving instantly. He nodded, a faint smile on his split lips. "C'mon, let's get you home."

"H-Home?" He asked.

"My place. You need a Band-Aid." Ah, there was that smile. I'd waited a long time to see him smile like that, and not even the ugliness of his bruises could ruin the pure beauty of his smile.

"Yo, Fuma-kun, where are you going? The night's just started, why don't you come inside and find a nice -girl- who's not so banged up?" My 'buddy' Kei called. I kindly flipped him off. "Alright, fine! You go and play fag Daddy or whatever to that kid while I go and get myself a chick!" He shouted at me.

"More like get yourself some more STD's." Feilong said absently, and he was glared at. Asahi smirked, his girlfriend, the older women, hanging on his arm.

"No kidding, that Vanilla lady gave you enough for a year didn't she?"

"Yeah, we'd better follow him and warn whoever he chooses next." Nagi quipped.

"Fuck you all!" Kei shouted, storming off. It was Fei's boyfriend that approached me and Sunaho. Lithe little teen as he was, probably not much older than Sunaho.

"Do you need any help?" He asked quietly. I shook my head, but thanked him. Nodding politely, he walked back over to Fei, who took his hand and smiled at him, then looked to me.

"Call me, Ototo." He waved, and I felt the heat rush to my face. He'd always thought of me as a little brother, and called me so. I waved too, and helped Sunaho walk. We got to my apartment, and I helped him take a bath. There were criss-crossed scars on his back, and the rest of his body looked like his face. There was a definite imprint of finger-bruises on his waist and his right wrist, which I think was sprained. I waited until he was washed and dried, sitting comfortably in my fuzzy white robe on the couch, to ask him.

"What happened, Sunaho?"

"Mom died. My dad left her, and she died all alone." He sniffed, on the verge of tears. "I went to see her funeral, but aunt Miho called me a whore in front of everybody, and she slapped me. She told me to get out, so I did. I knew why mom died, she took drugs. She took drugs like I do, because we couldn't take the pain. Dad made us do it, he made us trick because he lost all his money. I was tired of giving him my money, so I left." Tears slipped down his cheeks and I sat as close as possible, holding his hand.

"It's alright Sunaho." I said softly, pulling him into my chest, where he began to sob.

"My mom was the only one who understood! She was the only one who cared!" He cried, his hands clutching at my shirt. "We tricked to live, but it was my fault! I was a bad son! I was an accident! And I got selfish, and I left because I could make enough on my own!"

"Sunaho! Stop!"

"I didn't care anymore after that! I went back to the streets, and I sold myself so that I could get more drugs, but I didn't make enough to pay him back, and he. . .he. . ." He broke into incomprehensible sobs. I stroked his hair and whispered in his ear.

"Hush, Sunaho, hush. . .You're not bad, it's not your fault. How can they blame you for being born? Calm down. . ." It took around an hour for him to stop crying, and he fell asleep soon afterwards. I carried him to my bed and covered him up, laying out next to him.

I woke slowly the next morning, and the first thing I realized was that there was an empty space next to me. My breath caught and I sat up quickly, rushing into the living room. My redheaded doll had pulled on his tattered leather pants (which now looked like Swiss cheese) and was buckling his boots.

"Where are you going?!" I demanded.

"I. . . don't know."

"Stay here today. I have classes at noon, but I'll be home before six. You can eat anything you find in the kitchen, alright?" I said, running a hand through my black bangs. Sunaho looked shocked for a moment, and then he was about to cry again.

"I can't." He said brokenly.

"I owe you, right? For that night you left."

"But I. . .didn't want you to pay me for that." He said shyly, blushing.

"Why not?"

"Because I. . .gave you that willingly, and. . .You touched me."

"No one's ever done that to you before?" I asked.

"Not. . .like that." I smiled.

"Well, stay here anyways, alright?" I turned and got dressed, returning with a pair of jeans that were too small on me, a pair of boxers, and a white t-shirt. I watched him dress, smiling at how much bigger my clothes were for him. The jeans fit, but they hung low on his slender hips, so that the rim of the boxers showed. The t-shirt was huge on him because it was big on even me. I kissed him and he melted into my kiss.

He was there when I got home, thankfully. I'd stressed all day for nothing. Curled up on the couch asleep, with several empty cups of ramen in front of him. I cooked dinner, stir fry my mom had taught me, and I made him eat. I explained to him that he could stay with me, I had enough money, and I couldn't bare the thought of losing him again. At first he refused, but I talked him into it. . .between the sheets. And so for a week things went beautifully. I'd come home to a clean house, and a willing lover. I felt as if I was married, and I didn't feel chained down at all. Sunaho was all I wanted. Feilong came over once, and his boyfriend, Gail I now know him to be, tried to teach my little housewife how to cook. Their efforts were charred and spicy, but Fei and I swallowed them down like good husbands, congratulating them on their accomplishment (not to kill us). It was a dream come true.

But this is no fairy tail.

Withdraw was hitting Sunaho hard, and we tried everything to help it. The next week was almost a nightmare. Some nights, I'd hold him while he screamed for me to let him go, let him trick, and get something to stop the pain and the nightmares. He lost weight, and became distant. But by the third week, he was getting better, though he felt unbearably guilty he confessed. He had trouble taking things without giving back, and some nights I was too tired or to busy for sex. It was hard for him, after three years of tricking for cash, and living off drugs, he was craving it even if he didn't want it. I woke up one night to find him dressed in the new clothes he'd asked me to buy. Leather pants and a tight black shirt. He was wearing his old boots, and his jacket, and he'd had his hand on the door handle when I'd stopped him. He cried into my arms and begged me to fuck him, to take my payment from his body. I refused at first, but eventually gave in. His obsession with drugs and sex worried me, and I told him that. He promised he'd get better.

I told him to get a normal job, and he seemed shocked. I got him a job as a waiter at a place nearby, just a few hours a week at first. He made friends easily it seemed, and after a month he was working thirty hours a week. For our two month anniversary I gave him roses and he gave me what he always did. Mind-blowing sex. So it was no wonder that I began to get jealous. It started when he brought some friends over from work, and I was tired from pre-mid-term tests. They were drinking sake and were pretty trashed by the time I'd gotten home. I was upset because it was my good sake, but Sunaho said he's make it up to me, and he kissed me in front of his friends. I was mortified. I slapped him and went into our bedroom, slamming the door and getting ready for bed. He came in later, looking like he was about to cry. Oh no. . .not this again.

"Fuma-chan, what's wrong?" He asked, and I tried not to look into his puppy- dog eyes.

"What's wrong?!" I countered as I pulled off my school uniform, hanging the jacket on the hook. "Do you realize how you made yourself look tonight, Sunaho?! You acted like a whore, telling me you'd make it up to me, and then kissing them in front of those people!"

"Those people are my friends, Fuma! And they don't care, they. . .know about us."

"WHAT?"

"I told them. It's okay, Ryu-chan's gay too." He giggled, apparently still tipsy. I didn't know what to say. Ryu-chan was the heart-throb seventeen year old who was the nephew of the owner of the restaurant. I had seen him when I first asked the owner about giving Sunaho a chance. He was taller than me, and tan. His hair was short and he was an athlete at his high school. Fuck.

"Like that makes me feel better. Mr. High school wet dream." I snarled. Sunaho giggled again, wrapping his arms around me from behind and loosening my belt.

"Ohhh, is Fuma-chan jealous?" He purred against my back.

"Let go, I'm tired." I snapped.

"I put dinner in the fridge for you, since you were late."

"I don't want it, I want to sleep-" I grabbed his hands which were sliding down my pants. "I had tests today Sunaho." He whined but he broke away, letting me finish undressing and crawling into bed. He was quiet for a while and then he crawled into bed with me. I felt him slide up next to me, and then he kissed my neck. "What are you doing?" I asked, tired and cranky.

"Kissing you. . ." I felt his hands wandering again. "Your in a bad mood, I want you to cheer up."

"Paying me back for my sake'?"

"Mm, sure. . ." He purred, and I shoved him away, making him squeak.

"How many times have I told you I don't want sex for payment." I growled. The redhead was silent for a while, and then he slid out of the covers and walked out of the room. I feel asleep. When I woke up he'd already gone to work, but there was a letter for me on the counter.

'To Fuma, Here's the money for your sake', I'm sorry we drank it. I hope you're feeling better tonight, and so when I want to kiss you, you don't call me a whore for loving you. Love, Sunaho'

Damnit. I had a bad day at school after that, and Feilong tried to counsel me but I was too tired to listen. He and Gail were doing great, and they were going on a trip for Christmas break. I wondered if Sunaho wanted to go anywhere. My parents would want me to come home for Christmas. I'd never thought about it before. I told them Sunaho was a friend who needed help and they'd never asked me any further. When I got home, Sunaho wasn't there, but there was a note.

'Fuma, Dinner is in the microwave. I couldn't wait for you. I went out with Ryu and Heihatchi from work. I'll be home late. Love you, Sunaho.'

It made me angry. All this time, it was just the two of us and we were happy. Now all of the sudden he was out and running with friends. I knew it was good for him, but I didn't trust Ryu. He'd had his slimy hands all over my Kyoto doll the night he was over.

'Sunaho, Couldn't wait up. Thanks for dinner, it was great. Went to bed early, I have a 7am class. I hope you had fun ruining everything we've gotten you away from. Fuma.'

Sure, it was a little mean, but I knew he'd be drinking. And hell knew what else. I was furious at the thought of Sunaho cheating on me suddenly, of tricking again, doing drugs. He was -mine-. He was -clean-. When I woke up he was asleep on the couch. He didn't go to work until ten. His clothes reeked of pot and cheep beer.

'Sunaho, Take a damn shower and an aspirin. Fuma.'

Things went on like that for the next few weeks. Writing letters, talking briefly. We had sex once, but it wasn't the same. He was hurting badly inside. He took long showers, and I knew what he was doing in there. If I wouldn't give him release, he'd do it himself. He promised me he wasn't smoking anything, and he looked genuinely hurt when I checked him for track marks. I was worried.

And then it happened.

He came home smelling like cigarette, pot, and alcohol again. Only this time, his eyes were hollow. Hollow as they had been three months ago when I'd met him. He smiled at me, wickedly.

"Sunaho. . .what have you done?" I asked slowly as I stood, my study book falling from my lap. He shook his head, covering his face. I swallowed a huge lump in my throat and took a step forward, resting my hand on his shoulder. He slapped it away and laughed at me, laughed like he was insane.

"I'm dirty." He said in a gasp, "I'm a filthy . . .whore." I couldn't believe what I was hearing, I didn't -want- to believe it. "Don't touch me." The scent of cologne reached me and my stomach was in a knot. He didn't-he couldn't have! Something was clutched in his right hand.

"What do you have. . .Sunaho?" I asked. He held his hand up, and then he threw it at me. Money fell to the ground in flutters and I saw red. Why!? I gathered the money, and my coat, and I grabbed his wrist. I led him stumbling after me out of the apartment and down the street. We went into the first hotel I found, and I slammed my card down on the counter and received the key. I locked the door and threw Sunaho onto the bed. He gasped and cried out,

"F-Fuma. . .w-wait. . ." He said.

But I wasn't listening. Was I that bad? What all I had done for him worth that much? He had the nerve to come home like this! Smelling like drugs and sex, and confessing what he'd done! I wish I'd never met him, wish I'd never fucked him, paid for him. I fell on him, kissed him hard enough to bruise him. I knew I was hurting him, he cried out into my mouth, but I didn't care. It was with animal brutality that I took him, angry and hurtful. I was claiming him, even thought I wanted more than anything to shove him away from me. I was disgusted, sickened. I could taste sex on his skin. He began to cry, but I didn't notice I think, not really. Or I didn't care. He was sore, and I didn't use lube. It was cruel, it was vicious and mean, but he's betrayed me! He deserved it! If he was going to be a whore, then I'd let him go. But not without one last fuck. I called him things I never thought I'd hear myself say to him. Hateful things, hurtful things. Whore, Slut, Bitch, and Trash. He clutched at my shoulders and squirmed, trying to push me away. But I drove into him ruthlessly. I could feel his blood sickening the way, and I hated it.

When I was finished with him, I took a shower. I couldn't bare to look at him, I knew he was asleep, so I threw the money he'd made, plus my own on the floor, and I left him there. I got drunk and woke up on the train, wondered home and cried myself to sleep in our bed. My bed.

The phone woke me up. It was loud, and my head hurt like hell.

"Moshi moshi?" I answered annoyed.

"Hiya Takenshi-san!" Ryu. I almost hung up. "I was just calling to see if Sunaho was coming into work today. . .He hasn't shown up, and he's two hours late for his shift, I'm just concerned. I'll bet he stayed up to late with that guy that picked him up, huh? Though he acted pretty strange when he showed up-and them someone called for him-" I slammed the phone down. I was about to start crying again when the phone rang. I picked it up.

"What the hell do you-"

"Where's Sunaho?" A voice demanded.

"Feilong?"

"Where is he Fuma?"

"Oh God Feilong, why are you asking me this? I don't need this, not after last night-"

"Where the fuck is he?!" I stopped, shocked.

"He. . .I don't know. What's wrong?"

"His father's back. He's looking for him, and he's already killed two of my men."

"Your men. . .what's this about, Fei?! What the hell's going on?!"

"Where's the last place you saw him, Fuma?" The ever calm voice was impatient.

"At Hisoka Grand hotel. . ." He was quiet for a moment. "What's going-"

"Sunaho's father stole something from my father, and he ran with it. He's looking for Sunaho. I tried to call you last night but-" I sat up, my head spinning.

"Last night?!"

"Yes, and-"

"Fuck!" I hung up, standing to fast and falling on my ass. I wasn't exactly sure what had happened, but I knew it was my fault. The phone rang, but I threw up on the floor. It kept ringing so I answered it as I dressed hurriedly. "What!"

"Fuma, what have you done?!" Fei demanded hotly.

"I fucking raped him last night! I thought he'd been tricking again! He came in with money and smelling like drugs and sex, and there was a needle mark in his arm, alright?!" I hung up and slipped on something. A . . .disc? I picked it up and looked it over. The image came to me of the money falling, and the disc. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!! He'd brought it to me! Drugged and in pain, he'd brought me the disc. And I'd. . .

Tears threatened to come again, but I chased them away. I shoved the disc in my pocket and ran. I ran so fast it hurt, but the pain in my heart was worse. Every breath, every beat, my body was in pain, and I deserved it all. I ran into the hotel, where they told me he had not left. I got the spare key and ran up the stairs, gasping for air by the time I opened the door. There was blood on the bed-my fault, and the smell of vomit was rank. I looked around but he was nowhere. I ran into the bathroom and saw him.

The bathtub was filling over, and there was water and blood everywhere. Sunaho's clothes laid on the floor in the pink tinged water, and Sunaho's pale body was in the tub, his head resting on the side out of the water, one of his wrists dangling over the edge. I kneeled and grabbed it. Not cut. The other one. Not cut. His skin was ice cold, and I felt his pulse. It was slow, painfully so. I snatched him from the bathtub, rushing into grab a clean sheet, the top one I'd thrown back, and I wrapped him up, then grabbed the hotel phone and called Fei as I begged Sunaho not to die.

:: December 24th ::

He'd like the roses. I know he would. I lean over to smell them, inhaling their scent. They smelled like him, sweet and clean. But I couldn't buy roses for him today. He deserved more. He deserved to hear what I had to say, even if he couldn't hear me anymore. Even if he couldn't respond anymore. I sat down on the chair, watching him sleep. He'd been in a coma for three weeks now, and the Dr's didn't think he would wake up. Feilong and Gail had come to visit, and wish me merry Christmas, but I couldn't even smile for them. They'd left three days ago for China, and I'd called my parents to apologize for my absence. My place was here. I sat by his side all day, and I slept little at night. Ryu and all of his fellow co- workers had come to visit as well, bringing cards and gifts for him. He really did have a lot of friends.

The room was filled with wilting flowers. Roses, daisies, freesia, tulips. But Sunaho laid still and quiet on the bed, as if he had just fallen asleep. His red hair like a halo of blood around his pale skin. The black roots were showing, about two inches now. He'd hate it if he could see it. He hated his black hair, because it was like his dad's. I learned this when I watched his dad die. The disc I'd found belonged to Feilong's father, of course. Sunaho's father had found out where he was working, and had planned on kidnapping him and getting out of Japan. Probably planned to trick his son for money again, but Sunaho refused, and his father had raped and beaten him. Then, to keep him docile, he'd shot him up while he went to meet a contact. Sunaho, my brave strong Sunaho had woken up and stolen the disc, as well as all the money his father had, hoping to keep him from escaping the country.

His father was a tall and powerfully built man, with black hair and dark eyes. His mother had been a small woman, a foreigner with red hair and blue eyes. She had been adopted. I had found a picture of her at his old house, which I visited to talk to his aunt who lived there now. His family on his mother's side was rich. They had been upset when their daughter had married a penniless construction worker, but they had given her share and he'd spent it all. Miho Sukihiko had cried when she heard the story, the true story of her little sister's life. She was paying Sunaho's hospital bills for now, and she'd offered to become his guardian, and pay for his schooling. If he woke up.

Tears stung my eyes as I took his hand, rubbing it between the two of mine. I'd watched as Sunaho's father was shot in the alleyway, and left there for the police. The clock said midnight.

"Merry Christmas, Sunaho. . . My Kyoto doll. . ." My throat was tight, and I fought the tears. Standing, I leaned over and kissed his cold lips. "I wanted. . .to tell you something. . .something I've never said before. . ." This was it, and he couldn't even hear me.

"I love you."

Was that it?

"I love you more than anything else in this world, Sunaho. . ." My tears fell, rolling down my cheeks to splash onto his own, as if he was crying too. The air pumped, and the heart monitor beeped. "Please don't leave me, Sunaho. . .even if you never want to see me again, please. . .there are so many people here that love you, other than me. Please. . .fight for them, live for them." I stopped to sob, my body shuddering. "I'm sorry. I love you." I slipped the silver ring onto his finger, the sapphire glittering brightly in the dim lights of the hospital. I kissed him again and stood, turning to move to the cot, but something snagged my sleeve. I turned to get it un snagged and froze. Shocking blue eyes stared up into mine, rivers of silver running from them. Sunaho's hand clutched my sleeve in a deathly fragile grip.

"I. . ." I could barely make it out. ". . .uve. . .oo. . ." I leaned down, kissing him again softly, taking his hand in my own again.

"What was that, Sunaho?" I asked quietly.

"I. . .love. . .you." I climbed onto the bed next to him and he turned into me, pulling the air supply from his nose and nuzzling my neck as I held him, and we both cried.

"Forgive me, forgive me. . .!" I pleaded.

"Don't leave me. . . Please, don't leave me alone!" Sunaho cried softly, surprising me. I held him tightly.

"Never, my Sunaho, my love. . .my Kyoto doll."