Flower Boy 4- Number 326

Update- this series is now called Flower Boy. (We’ll figure out why later, I promise it’ll make sense.) Direct sequel to these pieces here. 1.2.3.

CW: manhandling, restraints, branding, gagged.

- - -

“Position one- now.” 

The order was barked before Jeremy had time to realize the man had entered his room. No- not his room- his cell. He was curled up on the cot- his back to the door and he hadn’t heard the man enter. The lights had shut off at some point, and he assumed that meant it was time for sleep. 

His night had been full of restlessness- pain- and nightmares. Tossing and turning on the uncomfortable cot- shaking- trying to pull himself away from this hell.

But as the lights clicked on brightly and the man barked the order at him- Jeremy was painfully reminded of his situation.

He pulled himself to sitting- rubbing the exhaustion from his eyes.

What had the man asked?

“I- I’m sorry- what?”

A backhand to the side of his face was the answer. He grumbled as he slammed back against the wall.

“Position one.”

His mind raced to the day prior- the four positions. His roommate was sitting up on his cot- as if awaiting his orders- perfectly still- head down on his chest.

Was that one on his knees, or standing?

He had been running through the positions in his mind. One and two were on knees- three and four were standing up.

The man was growing impatient so Jeremy quickly pulled himself to the floor- settling on his knees on the cold ground. He glanced at his wrists- the leather cuffs still locked tightly in place- and held them out- tilting his head towards the ground. 

“Ah, you remembered.”

Jeremy didn’t have time to pull away as his wrists were grabbed and the cuffs locked together. The man pulled them away from where the boy wanted to keep them close and chained them to a ring in the floor.

“On your stomach.” 

Jeremy glanced around- trying to get some hint of what was going to happen.

“What are- what are you going to do?”

“Now.” The man demanded- ignoring the question.

Jeremy slowly followed the pull of his arms- until he lay flat on his stomach on the floor. He felt hands along his body- stretching his arms tight above his head. Something wound around his ankles- tying them to the floor as well. Panic started racing in the boy’s chest as he tried to move. 

“What’s going on? Please- I-”

He gasped as his hair was yanked backwards- his mouth gaping open.

Something cold and hard was shoved into his mouth- and then tied around the back of his head. 

“I suggest you bite down on that.”

The boy grumbled behind the rubber bit in his mouth- squirming and wiggling about frantically. His eyes met the older man’s, curled up on the other cot. He turned away towards the wall- avoiding the boy’s gaze.

“Let’s see- ah, number 326.” The man picked up an object just outside of the boy’s view. “Hold still.” 

Jeremy could feel the terror coursing through him- chills running down his spine. His stomach churned and he flinched as he felt a hand on the back of his neck- pulling the sleeve of his tanktop to the side. 

And then there was pain- dull at first- and then blinding- white hot, coursing into the back of his shoulder. 

Jeremy bit down on the gag immediately- his teeth grinding into the rubber. But it grew too much to bear and he soon found himself screaming. As soon as the object was pulled away it clattered to the floor in front of him. Through his tears and his blurry vision from the pain he could barely make out the number ‘three’, welded onto the end of a metal rod. It was glowing ever so slightly- and Jeremy wanted to puke. 

He desperately tried to scramble away- his wrists tugging at the chains- his body thrashing about. 

The number three- ‘326’ the man had said. The other man had been called number twelve… they were- they were brandinghim. 

Jeremy was shrieking in terror long before the second number pressed white-hot into his skin. 

“Hold still, dammit.” The man grumbled. 

Jeremy thrashed about- crying and screaming. The Handler pressed the metal rod further into his back- putting more weight into it to steady the boy- and then climbed onto his back- straddling the boy’s hips. He pressed one hand to the back of his neck, the other holding the branding iron. 

When he pulled it away the boy choked back a strangled sob. The skin was already red and blistering- the numbers showing stark against the rest of the skin. 

“One more.” The man stated.

Jeremy shook his head- tears streaming into the floor as he was held in place. When the final number lit up into his skin it was too much for him to even scream. His mouth hung open around the bit in silence- his throat tensing up and his eyes wide. 

Finally the breath shot its way through with a strangled whine. Jeremy’s whole body shuddered and spasms as the pain tore through him. 

After a few agonizing moments the man pulled away and climbed off of the boy. 

The whole process had taken less than two minutes. But for Jeremy- those were the most painful two minutes of his life- so far.

The handler unchained his wrists and ankles and tossed a towel to prisoner twelve on his cot.

“Clean him up for me, will you?”

And he left the boy shaking on the floor. 

Tag List: @imagination1reality0@morning-star-whump@deltaxxk (lemme know if you wanna be added/removed) Also- this is an open invitation for anyone who has branding pieces, or writes anything with it, lemme know/tag me- it’s by far one of my favorite tropes.

Carrot Top 52- Open Up

It’s the next chapter! Part 51 is here.Masterlist here. If you have any questions about any of their powers, or how the world works, I’m always open to asks.

CW: restraints, medical whump, manhandling, collared, forced to beg, drugged whumpee, noncon touching (non-sexual), whumpee with a messed-up headspace, threatening with a gun, (if guns squick you out, this chapter probs isn’t the one for you).

- - -

Mickie and Micah had their backs pressed against the wall. A sheen of sweat was peeking over her brow as the guards walked past. She had reassured Micah several times though- as long as they weren’t moving, her illusion would hold fast, and they were practically invisible. Something about shapeshifting the light around them.

He still didn’t understand a lot of this. For now though- he didn’t think he needed to. He just needed to make sure Andrew got back safely.

The guards left and Micah relaxed back into the wall with a sigh.

“You holding up alright?” Micah whispered. She nodded. 

They approached a little closer- listening closely for any signals that might mean they should step in and help. The door that Ali and Justin had entered into was just down the hall. 

Micah’s heart jumped as he heard a faint scream from behind the door. 

Instinctively he raced towards it- despite Mickie grabbing his arm- trying to get him to wait- assess the situation before barging in there.

The sight he laid eyes on when he barged into the room was one he’d relive over and over in his nightmares.

Justin was thrashing on the floor- he quickly discovered he was the source of the scream. Ali was curled in a heap, seemingly incapacitated while a man stood over the two of them.

If you saw that man out on the street, he’d look like any other office drone, maybe with a bit more of a personality. He likes to play mini golf on the weekends, and thinks wearing a colored suit is his version of living rebelliously. In fact, he was wearing one now. A light gray-blue, with the jacket discarded to the side, and the sleeves rolled up, the front slightly unbuttoned. His dark hair was greased back into a low ponytail, and Micah could see a sleek pocket knife resting in the top of his left front pocket- clearly meant for easy access.

The man laughed, and Micah got a good look at this face. That was the only thing distinct about him. Several scars lined his features, and his eyes seemed to stare deep into your soul- scanning every inch of your body- analyzing every weakness and trace with just a glance as he scanned the boy up and down.

“Well, this is a surprise isn’t it?” The man taunted. “I was expecting the little sister, but I guess the boyfriend will have to do, hmm? Or can he even call you that?”

“What did you do to him?” Micah felt Andrew’s sister sneak in behind him as the man turned towards where the boy was restrained. 

“According to his words, ‘I barely know him.’ And, ‘don’t bring him into this, he’s not important.’” Splice took a step closer to Micah and he stepped to the side, trying to get a better view of Andrew. “How’s that make you feel, hm? That you’re not important.”

“Oh shut up.” Micah grumbled. “What did you do to him!”

From where he stood- Andrew was an array of tubes and mechanisms and machines. He seemed to be nearly floating in the air. Suspended by an array of chains and platforms and metal cuffs that locked around his nearly-naked body. If it weren’t for the lanky limbs and scrunched features of his face- Micah would’ve nearly been unable to recognize him. 

His skin was so pale- nearly a stark white that matched his hair. He wanted to rush towards him- throw him off of that machine- shoot that man right where he stood- but-

But he had no idea what he had done to Andrew. No idea what was in all those tubes and machines, or how to deal with any of it and keep him alive if he killed the man right away.

It didn’t matter anyways because as Micah stepped forward towards the boy, the man grabbed him by the arm- pulling him close against his chest. 

Splice grabbed Micah’s wrists, pulling them tight behind his back. Completely dwarfed by the larger man, his attempts at thrashing about and squirming from the man’s grip were useless.

“Let go of me!” He cried. “Don’t touch me- get off-”

Micah yelped out a scream as the third collar was locked around his throat. He felt the sharp pains in the back of his neck and quickly realized that Justin and Ali were wearing the same thing. The same chunk of metal that was keeping both of them incapacitated on the floor.

“It’s power restricting dear, don’t try and fight it, or get it off. It’ll be useless.”

At this moment Micah realized his advantage. Splice didn’t know anything about him. He didn’t know he didn’t have any abilities, that this collar wasn’t going to do anything to him aside from being a minor inconvenience. 

He dropped to his knees as the man let him go- throwing him to the ground.

“What did you do to him.” He demanded, his fingers flitting up to his neck- feeling the cold metal. He flinched away as the man laughed.

“What I did to him is a great question indeed. Should we have a little demonstration?”

“No!” He cried. “Just- just let him go. Take him off the machine, we can- we can talk about this, we-”

“Oh there’s sure a lot to talk about.” The man stated, pacing around the boy. Micah didn’t know what to say. He was never usually at a loss for words, but this whole situation- Andrew, lying there so defenseless- it was hard to come up with any sort of intelligent conversation.

“Are you quite certain you want me to remove him from all this?” The man fiddled with the machine, adjusting some buttons and levers.

Justin had propped himself onto his elbows- still panting and drenched in sweat from the shocks he’d been given earlier.

“Let him- let him go-” he panted.

Micah nodded in agreement. 

“Please. Please let him go.”

Splice hummed in slight satisfaction at the smaller boy’s pleas. He seemed amused at this whole situation as he came to stand in front of where he knelt.

“Say that again.”

“What? I-”

“What did you just say? Say it again.”

“I- I said, let him go.”

“No, that’s not quite right.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “What exactlydid you say?”

The realization hit Micah and his stomach dropped as he realized what the man wanted. He sighed, clenching his fists across his lap.

“I said, please. Please let him go.”

Splice nodded and Micah sighed in relief, but it wasn’t enough.

“Now beg.”

“What? No- I-”

Splice began to move back to Andrew, flicking out his pocketknife and moving to the other side of where he hung- putting the boy between himself and the other one on the floor.

“Alright. Well, I’ll just have to continue with what I had planned then-” he threatened.

“No!” Micah cried. He nearly lunged himself at the man- his hands catching his weight as he nearly crashed on the floor. “Please. Please don’t- don’t hurt him anymore. There, is this what you want?” Micah choked back a sob, keeping his eyes away from where Justin and Ali lay. Purely focused on the man in front of him, and the boy that had already been granted so much pain. He nearly laughed. “Look, I’m on my hands and knees here. Please, just no more. Just give him a break, please.”

Micah waited in silence as the man stood there, his breathing getting slightly heavier as he scanned the boy restrained in front of him. 

He sighed, and began shutting off some of the machines, removing the iv drip bag and disconnecting it from Andrew’s arm.

“Well, only since you asked so nicely.”

Micah sighed in relief, nearly collapsing in on himself, and glanced back towards Justin. 

They watched in silence as the man disconnected their friend from the arrangement he was in. The ivs and tubes were removed, the band around his head, the wires attached to his chest. The metal stands keeping him held up were removed and lowered, and he was just suspended by the chains. With a careful hand on his head, the tubes in his mouth and down his throat were removed and tossed aside. The chains were lowered until he was lying on his back on the ground, the drain right beneath him.

Andrew gasped out, his neck arching back as his lungs and throat burned. 

Thankfully the rest of his body was so numb with drugs that he barely felt any other pain. But he hadn’t been breathing on his own for nearly twenty four hours. 

Tears leaked down his eyes as he stared at the ceiling- his vision blurry and unfocused. His chest heaved- and finally, after a few agonizing moments, he remembered how to breath again. 

It was anything but steady- short, gasping breaths that were interrupted by jabs of pain, followed by long, drawn out wails of air.

Micah wanted to rush to him- to hold him in his arms as he shook and trembled on the floor- but the man was in his way. And with Andrew’s vulnerability, he did not want to risk anything in fear of his safety. 

Splice removed the chains and cuffs from Andrew’s ankles- they were dark and bruised compared to the pale white of the rest of his body. Micah stared in horror at the clear displacement of the bones- the discoloration- the way Andrew barely flinched or moved as the man’s eyes scanned his body. He removed the band along his waist, as well as the chain attached to his neck, but kept the collar locked tight around it. 

The man grabbed both chains attached to his wrists, pulling them together and stretching them up to the ceiling. He pulled it higher and higher until Andrew was forced on his knees. Andrew sat back between his heels, his wrists held out in front of him as his head arched backwards- almost as if he could open up his throat to suck in more breath. But there would never be enough air.

  “I believe just a moment ago you were wondering what I’d done to him, hmm?” Splice taunted. Andrew’s eyes remained unfocused as the man gripped his hair forcing him to look ahead at his friends.

Andrew barely registered what was happened. This wasn’t his own body- he didn’t belong here- everything that was happening to him- it didn’t feel like it was actually him. It was all disjointed, unconnected.

“Don’t hurt him-” Micah whispered- frozen in his spot where he knelt.

“Oh he won’t need much of that anymore. I only want him to answer a few questions.” He tilted the boy’s chin up to look in his eyes- hoping for some sort of coherency from the boy. “Can you do that for me?” He asked.

Andrew blinked back in silence, trying to register what was going on. 

“Alrighty carrot top, who do you belong to?”

There was complete silence in the room- the only sound being Andrew’s strangled breaths. The hand tightened in the back of his hair, gripping tightly underneath his chin. Andrew gasped slightly- but still didn’t speak, even as the man asked the question again.

“Don’t- don’t touch him.” Micah asked- his voice just barely above a whisper. The man made his skin crawl- the way he looked at Andrew- the way his fingers gripped the boy’s skin- “Please, just leave him alone.” He pleaded.

At Micah’s plea Splice responded with a slap to Andrew’s face. His head jerked to the side and he gasped at the sting- his eyes finally shuffling to land on the man in front of him.

“There we go. Are you with me now?” Splice asked. 

“Don’t touch him!” Micah cried. 

Andrew’s eyes seemed to light up at the sound of the other boy’s voice. They darted about for something to land on but all he could see was the man in front of him. Even that figure was blurry. 

“Ahh, it looks like you are with us. Finally. I was asking a question- it’s rude of you to ignore me you know.” He leaned down, grabbing the boy’s wrists as he whispered in his ear. “If you keep this up, your punishment will make everything I did to you before seem like a treat.” 

Andrew squinted his eyes shut tight, nodding his head fiercely. 

“Good.” The man whispered. He stood back up, and stepped aside so Andrew could get a clear glance of his friends about the room. “Now, who do you belong to Andy?” 

His eyes landed on the man. Pleading with him silently. His throat hurt so much he could barely make out a whisper. There was no sound. At Andrew’s failed attempt the man gripped Micah by the back of his sweater and dragged him forward. Micah yelped and struggled in his grip, but was unable to resist as his wrists were grabbed. 

“Don’t make me ask again!” He yelled, jerking Micah’s arms behind him as he did so.

Andrew’s eyes finally registered who was sitting in front of him. He saw the blue of the hair- the small figure dwarfed by an oversized sweater- his oversized sweater. And he registered that man- the one who had caused him so much pain. He was holding that boy- with- with a knife pressed under his chin. The same knife he had carved those lines into his skin with just a few hours ago. 

And then he registered what the man wanted. The question- the responses- the words that were so ingrained in his mind.

“You-” he blurted out. “I belong to you.” He answered. 

Andrew was shocked at how raspy his own voice sounded. There was barely any volume. Just a grovel of consonants and vowels that tried to make some coherent sense. But it was good enough for the man.

“Finally. Next question. What are you?”

Andrew winced at the pain that crept up his throat from the attempt to speak. He had to answer- he couldn’t let Micah get hurt. He couldn’t drag him into this. 

“A tool.” He managed to say. “Used for- for what you see fit.”

“Andrew no-” Micah whispered. The man tugged at his arms tighter, the glint of the blade threatening to break skin and Micah took that as his cue to be silent. 

Splice nodded in agreement, satisfied with the answer. 

“Now where, and when?”

Andrew choked back a sob. Holding back a cough in his throat as he tried to answer. 

“Here, with you- and for- for forever-” At the last word he broke into a fit of coughs. Andrew collapsed in on himself, his wrists pulled tight above him as his lungs heaved. A few droplets of blood splattered on the floor below him. His whole mouth felt dry as it mingled with the taste of blood and bile that crept up his throat. 

Micah’s eyes were clenched tight. He couldn’t watch this. He didn’t think he’d be strong enough. Instead he listened to the coughs and grunts of pain as Andrew tried and failed to catch his breath. 

“Last question, carrot top.” The man stated. “Why. Why am I doing this. Why you?”

Andrew’s chest shook his mouth formed the words but he underestimated the amount of effort needed to create the sound. He choked back a sob of frustration before putting forth his remaining energy to answer the question.

“Because I’m worthless. I- I’m nothing, and I- I deserve it.”

Another fit of coughs rung through him and Micah gasped in unison as the knife left his throat and the man stepped away.

A cruel hand rubbed along Andrew’s back as he hacked- his whole body shook and shivered. 

“Oh you’re alright.” The man moved to the rolling cart filled with numerous supplies and came back with a water bottle and a few tissues. “Here- you deserve it.” 

Micah watched in shock as Andrew mumbled thank yous, and let the man bring the bottle to his lips. His head tilted back as the water washed over him. It spilled down his chin as he tried to drink- and took him a moment to remember how to swallow. Just as he was actually getting something down his throat, the man pulled it away and Micah swore he could hear the boy whine. 

Andrew looked so- so- he hated to think it, but he looked so pathetic. It was terrifying really, to think of everything the man must have done in order the resort Andrew to this state of submission. 

What sorts of pain had he put him through?

As Micah’s eyes scanned Andrew’s body, and he saw all the scars, he didn’t think he ever wanted to know. 

There were so many- and that was just on his chest. So many lines, interwoven and carved between each other. Splotches and scratches, discoloration, some bruises fresh, others that were weeks old. He didn’t want to imagine what all terrible history was written on his back, or the rest of his body.

Splice saw the boy’s eyes scanning his friend and he chuckled. He titled Andrew’s chin up from where it hung on his chest.

“He looks wonderful doesn’t he?”

“What?” 

Splice turned Andrew’s face from side to side. Inspecting each bruise, each mark along his neck and across his shoulders. 

“It’s almost like a work of art. I mean, you were wondering everything I’d done to him. Care for a demonstration?” As he spoke the man rose the chain on the ceiling higher and higher- pulling Andrew’s wrists up until he was forced high on his toes. They barely brushed the ground as his arms stretched out above him, leaving his body strung up on display.

“Before I begin,” the man stated, “I’m going to need you to hand that over.” He stood in front of Micah, one hand outstretched, as if asking for a treat a child had stolen from the cookie jar. 

Micah shook his head, scooching backwards away from the man.

“I don’t- I don’t know what you’re talking about-”

Splice shook his head, stepping forward until he was standing directly atop of the boy, staring down at him. 

“Oh I’m sure you do. Are you that primitive to resort to such violence?”

“Violence!” Micah laughed, motioning towards his friend. “You’re definitely one to comment on violence.”

“Yes, but my methods are far more… sophisticated. Now hand it over.” 

Justin’s eyes had shifted towards Micah. He had managed to crawl his way over to Ali but the collar sapping his powers was making him so dehydrated that was struggling hard to fight unconsciousness. 

“I don’t have anything-”

“Oh don’t lie to me, I don’t have time for this.”

Splice knelt down on top of the boy, straddling his waist, and flipped him onto his stomach. He pressed a knee into the back of his neck, trapping his arms underneath him. 

“Don’t touch me- get off!” Micah cried. He screamed and thrashed about as the man felt around for the object, finally lifting up the back of his sweater to find the pistol tucked carefully in the back of his waistband. 

“Well- look at what I found.” 

“Get off of me.” He grumbled through gritted teeth as the man shoved his face in the floor. In a swift move Splice flipped the boy back onto his back, keeping his hands pinned down by his sides with his knees. Micah squirmed but the man was far stronger. 

He twirled the pistol in between his fingers, flicking the safety on and off over and over again, until Micah had no idea what was what anymore. He heard a string of muttered pleas and screams that took him a moment to realize were his own. The pistol was pressing up underneath his chin. He felt the cold metal against his skin and his voice trembled as he realized the gravity of his situation.

“Don’t- don’t shoot please- don’t shoot me- I’m sorry, please- I-”

The muzzle of the gun traced across his lips, moving across the side of his face to rest against his temple.

“Oh shhh- shh now, it’s your own fault for bringing it in here. We shouldn’t let those bullets go to waste.”

Tears streamed down his face, and Micah sobbed harder than he ever had before in his life. His whole body shook as he tried to say anything to sway the man from doing what he dreaded.

“Don’t kill me please- I’m sorry- please, don’t shoot- I-”

The end of the gun pressed down harder, turning the side of his face flat against the cold ground. 

Justin watched in horror- his limbs and voice utterly useless as he was sapped of all energy. He couldn’t cry out- he couldn’t rush to help- so he just laid there and watched in dreaded anticipation as the man threatened Micah. 

Finally- it was the prisoner. The boy chained up, and beaten and starved that stopped the man in his tracks.

“Stop!” He shouted. His voice broken and raspy- but the word firm and clear. “Please. Please don’t hurt him-” Andrew cried. “I’ll- I’ll do anything to keep him safe, just don- don’t hurt him. Please.” Now tears were streaming down both of the boy’s faces. “Sir- please. I- I’ll do anything.” Andrew’s words and pleas were cut off by his strangle sobs, and a sigh of relief as the man stood up off of the boy, and approached were his prisoner was strung up.

“Th-thank you. Thank you so much-” Andrew cried in relief. A hand tilted his chin up and away from his chest, and then a gentle thumb swiped across his cheek, wiping away a few of his tears.

The man shook his head, and sighed. 

“You look just wonderful when you’re desperate.” He whispered. 

A chill and a choked off sob ran through Andrew’s body. He clenched his eyes tight as fingertips traced across the lines on his stomach- moving up his chest, around his neck, and brushed across his lips. 

“You said you would do anything, right?” 

Andrew nodded. A whisper of a ‘yes’ echoing through his lips. 

“Alright then.” The tip of the pistol replaced the man’s fingers where they rested on Andrew’s mouth, and he felt the cold metal against his lips. 

It dropped a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Open up.” The man ordered.

Andrew complied. He knew he had no choice. 

His body shook and his arms and shoulders trembled, but he parted his lips ever so slightly. Splice placed a hand on the back of Andrew’s head, tilting it at exactly the right angle. 

Andrew was used to a muzzle. He was used to the cold leather tight against his face- the bit between his teeth- but not the harsh muzzle of a gun. 

Splice guided it into his mouth until the tip was tickling the back of his throat, the barrel against his tongue, and the trigger guard just right in front of his lips. 

A small squeak of a whimper leaked out of his throat as the man patted him on the cheek- leaving it sitting in Andrew’s mouth. 

“Hold that there for me will you?” 

And he stepped back towards the smaller boy, trembling on the floor.   

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Tag List: @imagination1reality0@just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi@thehopelessopus@burtlederp@whump-me-all-night-long@laves-here@yesthisiswhump@myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19@brutal-nemesis@lunaabsentee@morning-star-whump

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◊ a/n: i rlly wanted an excuse to write heterochromia chuuya but then i listened to somewhere only we know by keane soo…

◊ wc: 0.9k

Chuuya prided himself on his heightened senses and excellent manner of sight and sound. He was a mafioso; a man of pride and loyalty as well as confidence and luxury. He saw the world as do most people. Though maybe his view of the universe was a little skewed. Who knows what Chuuya Nakahara thought of the world around him?

Staring up at the midnight stars, you paused to take in the fresh moon-infused air. From behind, you could hear Chuuya shuffling along behind you. He sounded lethargic and perhaps weary. You chalked it up to the activity of the day. 

“Chuuya, hurry up. You look like you’re going to pass out any minute.”

The mafioso blinked at you tiredly, his pacing picking up by only a little bit. He rubbed the back of his neck, stretching his limbs and managing to catch up to your side. 

“What’s the hurry?” he grumbled, slipping a gloved hand into yours and raising it up to give the back of it a chaste kiss.

“No hurry, I suppose. I just want to lay down soon. My feet are killing me,” you said, acknowledging the kiss with a coy smile. 

“Why didn’t you say so sooner?” he remarked. He flashed a slightly scolding look at you, though he knew it would do little damage to actually reprimand you. 

“It’s no big deal. Plus the moon looks pretty tonight.”

Chuuya looked up at the brilliant orb in the darkening skies. The clouds misting around it like a seductive silk shawl wrapped around its shoulders. It seemed to smile down on the world. In many ways he admired the moon more than the sun. The moon was your’s and his.

The empty streets of the park lay barren and quiet. The type of quiet that made you truly think about tomorrow and the day after that. Yet, Chuuya did not answer you. He simply stared at the moon as if deep in thought about something. 

“We should go somewhere together,” he murmured into the darkness. 

A false statement that would lead no where. You knew he could not leave Yokohama unless it was for business. As for yourself? Who knew why you had never decided to leave this city and its dozens of sparkling lights. Chuuya did not have the privilege that many believed him to have.

In the end, he was still a slave to the mafia and would remain at its side until his dying days. Perhaps that was truly his only flaw: the unrelenting loyalty he carried for an organization that would see him to the grave one day. 

But you smiled, indulging him in this fantasy. “Yeah, maybe somewhere across the sea. There’ll be a beautiful beach and a gorgeous sunset every night!”

Letting go of his hand, you made an extravagant gesture towards the moon like you were imagining that wondrously beautiful sunset against the sparkling sea. Chuuya stared for a moment before grinning wildly.

“Yeah, it’ll have everything we’ve ever wanted. I’ll take you to the beachside every night and we can light sparklers while watching the sunset.” 

He raised his hand to mimic the motion of those crackling sparklers that drew glittering shapes and imagines in the fading night sky. You joined him in that glorious daydream.

“I’ll bring all the wine and booze you could imagine and we’d never have to worry about anyone else. It would just be you and me,” you said. 

And for a moment, Chuuya believed the viciously lovely lies you two told each other. That tomorrow he would wake up in that special “somewhere” with you in his arms and not a care in the world. His life would not be in the hands of another and you would never have to worry about the sentamentalies that bound you by hand and foot in this cruel, cruel world. 

“We’ll go somewhere only we’d know?” Chuuya asked quietly. You could see his gentle smile set against the dim light of the lamp post above. It shone brilliantly in a strange mirage of sadness and hope. 

“Yeah. We’ll go there.” 

And that was all you could emptily promise your love. 

Regardless of your words, Chuuya pressed a serene kiss to your lips. He tasted like red wine and sharp tinges of metal. With a sweeping motion, he had you in his arms as if he’d just wed you then and there.

“For now, let’s head home, yeah?” 

Carrying you princess style down the park road, Chuuya held no remorse nor regret to the fantastical world the two of you had created that night. The present time with you was most important after all.

“I can walk on my own, Chuuya! Put me back down,” you insisted.

“And who was the one who was complaining about their feet killing them?”

The comment shut you up rather quickly. Chuuya grinned that wild grin you loved oh so deeply and for a second he could see the moon in your eyes. He saw that glimmering sunset the two of you talked about and the electric sparklers that carved the sky for you two. For now, he could pride himself on being loyal to his organization, and perhaps one day he could take you to that special “somewhere” where only you two would know.

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