Yagami Haru: Adventures in Solitude ~ Part 5/10
As promised, a fast and furious update from the Haru-verse.
Title: "Sting Like A Bee" (Teen Haru Fic Part 5)
Characters: Haru, Near, Matsuda, OCs.
Rating: R
Words: 2000
Warnings: If you've been reading this, you know what's up.
Summary: Follows the spectacularly frustrating cliffhanger in “Our Hopes And Expectations.” Enjoy.
The teenage boy who ducked nervously into Bakuro’s Bike Shop was small-framed and pale. He might have been fifty kilograms, tops. His black hair fell in tortured angles around his face. It was hard to tell with his dark sunglasses on, but he looked vaguely foreign, like he had a bit of western blood in him or something. He wore a black T-shirt with some band name scrawled across its front in bold green English. His jeans hugged his legs and ass rather snugly, and Bakuro couldn’t help wondering if everything about him was as tight as his pants were. The pants were cut so low in front that the boy’s hipbones showed above his chunky metal belt, the kind the punk kids wore. Goddamn he was tiny. The boy was trembling slightly and a faint gloss of sweat was visible on his skin. He was strung out, or terrified, or both.
“Can I help you?” Bakuro asked.
The kid fiddled anxiously with his belt. He wasn’t looking at any of the bikes or gear that lined the walls of the shop, but mostly down at his hands, which seemed incapable of stillness. “The white bike in the back,” he said quietly, in clear unaccented Japanese.
“Ah,” Bakuro smiled knowingly. “Let me take you back there.”
He led the boy to the windowless office space that served as his secret storeroom. Once they were inside with the door closed behind them, the teenaer took off his sunglasses, revealing the most amazing eyes Bakuro had ever seen. He’d seen a lot of eyes - dead flat cynical eyes, desperate addicts’ eyes, eyes pinkened and yellowed and dilated and constricted. Nothing compared to the dark intensity he stared into now. Definitely not Asian eyes, and yet not quite European eyes either. They were an animal’s eyes. For a moment Bakuro was almost frightened. But in an instant, the flash of ferocity was gone, replaced by a quiet, smoldering desire. Desire was certainly what Bakuro himself was feeling right now, looking him over once more. What an exquisite physique. What an intriguing customer.
“I hear you’ve got decent coke at a cheap price,” the kid said, never keeping eye contact for more than a second. “And I’m dying right now. Fucking craving’s eating me alive.” He was biting his nails. “Thing is, I’m flat broke. I spent everything on blow, and now I’ve got like…well, a hundred yen.” He rifled through his empty pockets to illustrate the point, and came up with a single silver coin. “But please…I can't think about anything else…I’ll swear to god I’ll kill myself if I don’t get more.”
Bakuro shook his head. “Kid, I don’t know who you heard these rumors from, but you’re not getting shit for that kind of money around here.”
“Just one line?” he begged. And did he ever look good begging…
“I sell strictly by the gram.”
“Dammit!” The boy violently clawed at his hair. “But they said…”
“Well, whatever they said, they said wrong. Look, you picked a pricy fucking drug to mess with. If you don’t have the money, you can’t have the blow.” Bakuro almost felt sorry for him. This boy could be a model, really; he was far too pretty to wind up here with a debilitating craving and one hundred measly yen and probably no idea what was coming to him. “I mean, unless…”
“Unless…?” The boy looked up with what could only be described as puppy dog eyes. “Unless what?”
“There are other ways,” Bakuro said slowly, taking a step closer to his despairing customer. He wanted to savor this. “Other forms of payment. You maybe be familiar with some of them.”
“This is all I have.” His fingers shook as he held out the hundred-yen coin.
Bakuro took his outstretched hand, with the money still in it, and closed his own around it. Steadily he pulled the slim body towards him until they were inches apart. It had been a long time since Bakuro had been up so close to beauty like this. Bakuro ran his free hand along the teen’s perfect waist and down over the luscious curve of his ass. “I said, there are other ways.”
The boy gasped sharply at the touch, staring. “You mean…”
He tilted the boy’s chin upwards, admiring his delicate face. Though clearly frightened, he did not resist. “How old are you?” Bakuro asked.
The stunning eyes flitted sideways nervously. “Sixteen,” he answered. It sounded like a lie.
“You’re a pretty little thing, aren’t you?” Bakuro drawled, bringing both his hands around behind the boy’s ass. Their bodies were flush together, and Bakuro was rock hard. He could feel the kid’s heartbeat through his skintight shirt, which was darkening with sweat, and he could smell his fear.
“I bet you’ll fit nice and tight around my cock, Sixteen-kun. What do you say to that?”
The boy tried cautiously to back away, but Bakuro held him fast, pinning his thin arms behind his back, up against the door.
“What do you say, hm? It’s free cocaine, dummy. Not everyone gets a deal like this. Believe me.” Without releasing his hold, he ran a finger over the tight denim between the boy’s legs. “Don’t worry. I’ll treat you real good too.”
Sensing futility, the teen stopped struggling. He hung his head in resignation. Bakuro knew this moment well: the point where addiction overpowered self-respect.
“So you’re saying,” the boy said slowly, “if I let you fuck me, you’ll hook me up.”
Bakuro nodded.
“With a full gram of grade-A coke? Ten thousand’s worth?”
“For this ass?” He squeezed his prize firmly, and the boy winced. “I’ll give you two.” Damn, he was being nice to this kid. “Hell, I’ll give you one gram for just a nice, thorough BJ with those pretty lips of yours. It’s not every day someone walks in here looking like you.” He stroked the boy’s cheek, which was like silk. Even the kid’s tortured expression, a mix of self-disgust and abject defeat, couldn’t detract from his allure. “So. Do we have a deal?”
“I want the coke in advance,” the boy answered bitterly, grinding his teeth. “Otherwise, I don’t trust you.”
“Fair enough.” Still holding onto him, Bakuro pulled a keyring from his back pocket and unlocked the topmost filing cabinet, a convenient arm’s length away. Then he felt a sudden pain in his head as it smacked into what must have been the metal drawer. He staggered for a moment, dazed, and the boy whirled on him and held him down against the floor, his black eyes positively raging. The boy whipped a small, concealable knife from the inside of his belt and held the blade to Bakuro’s throat. But Bakuro didn’t panic just yet. Occupational hazards being what they were, this was a calculated risk for which he was prepared. The boy had a knife, but, if he could reach it, Bakuro had a gun.
And so did the two police officers who burst into the storeroom.
Bakuro looked up at the cops, and then up at the boy, who in a moment of inspiration had lowered his knife to the bulge in Bakuro’s pants where his erection still throbbed. He whimpered. How the hell did the cops get in? He thought he’d locked that door... Then he remembered the kid backing into it when he’d cornered him. Damn the brat.
“Sorry, Katsune Bakuro,” the boy said, staring down at him with a triumphant grin. “I’m afraid I’ll have to say no deal.” He pulled him forward, and the officers clamped handcuffs around Bakuro's wrists. “Maybe you’ll have better luck with your fellow inmates.”
*
Haru was so high on pure adrenaline he didn’t even look twice at the kilos and kilos of coke and who knew what else in those file cabinets. This was it. This was real fucking police action. As Yamamoto and Matsuda took Bakuro away, Haru exhaled with every cell in his body. His head spun. How in the world did he just do that? His skin crawled with the memory of Bakuro’s hands on him, but somehow it didn’t matter anymore. He could have laughed out loud.
“We’ve got you,” Matsuda was telling the dirty dealer as they headed out the door. “Everything’s on tape. Right Haru?”
“Oh, you mean this?” Haru pointed to the tiny device that had been interlaced with the black vinyl of his belt. “Yeah. I guess you guys should take this. I sure don’t want to hear that conversation again.” He tugged the wire free and handed it to his quasi-uncle, who had never looked prouder.
“Nicely done, Haru-kun,” Matsuda said as Yamamoto locked Bakuro in the back of the car. “You’re so brave.”
“Don’t mention it,” Haru said genially. With a grim smile, he realized that Matsuda didn’t know the half of it. And Haru wasn’t about to tell him. He shoved the shadow of the past to the back of his mind. For now, he still had an adrenaline high to ride out.
~*~
“How did it go?” asked Near when Haru arrived back at HQ. The current L had converted his office into a mazelike structure made entirely of magnets.
“It was awesome,” Haru replied, shaking his head. “I…I don’t even know what to say. It was insane. Thank you.”
“I was concerned that it would be too difficult for you. To be frank, I never expected you to even agree to the assignment, much less enjoy it, given your history.”
“But that’s just it! I felt like I was getting revenge. Holding my knife to his cock like that? It was exhilarating.”
Apparently this was the first Near had heard of any threats of genital mutilation, and he did not look like he approved.
“Were you ever afraid he would hurt you?” Near asked.
“Are you kidding? I was terrified!” He laughed. “But we are in the crime-fighting business, after all, sempai. If I’m not afraid, odds are I’m not working hard enough. And this…sex stings, I mean… this is something I can do that no one else here can. No offense.”
“None taken,” said Near. “But you speak as though you plan on repeating this charade.”
“I’m so inspired right now, you have no idea.” His eyes narrowed in malicious glee. “I want to get all the sex offenders off the streets, every Bakuro and Shujito, every fucking perv who preys on young boys, so that no one else has to go through what I went through four years ago.”
“That’s not going to be an easy task.”
“I know.” He smiled. “But if anyone can do it…My looks have always worked against me, but now, if I play it right, I can use that same handicap against them.” This was sheer euphoria. He’d never felt so powerful in his life, not on any drug, or after getting into Columbia, or anything. He could really be a hero. His own hero. He could take his own trauma and turn it into justice for dozens. Hundreds, even.
“It’s a dangerous thing, absolute beauty,” said Near quietly.
“You bet it is,” Haru replied. “Dangerous for sick bastards who are going to get their asses handed to them in prison!”
Near couldn’t help but smile. “Oh, Haru-kun. It would have been much harder to get Bakuro without your efforts. We knew he had the drug operation running, but I felt it was important to get him on the more serious charges, for which we had no solid proof, only inconclusive reports and hearsay.” He kissed Haru’s forehead. “Thank you for your courage. It’s a relief to have you back safely.”
“I’m relieved too,” said Haru. He was relieved the sting had helped build calluses rather than reopen wounds. He was relieved that Near at long last seemed to value and acknowledge what he brought to the table. And more than anything, he was relieved that he’d found a calling, a meaningful goal, a way to apply himself before he could take up Near’s mantle as L. In just two months, he’d be moving to New York, the city that never sleeps. Between now and then, he had work to do.
**
Next chapter...
Title: "Sting Like A Bee" (Teen Haru Fic Part 5)
Characters: Haru, Near, Matsuda, OCs.
Rating: R
Words: 2000
Warnings: If you've been reading this, you know what's up.
Summary: Follows the spectacularly frustrating cliffhanger in “Our Hopes And Expectations.” Enjoy.
The teenage boy who ducked nervously into Bakuro’s Bike Shop was small-framed and pale. He might have been fifty kilograms, tops. His black hair fell in tortured angles around his face. It was hard to tell with his dark sunglasses on, but he looked vaguely foreign, like he had a bit of western blood in him or something. He wore a black T-shirt with some band name scrawled across its front in bold green English. His jeans hugged his legs and ass rather snugly, and Bakuro couldn’t help wondering if everything about him was as tight as his pants were. The pants were cut so low in front that the boy’s hipbones showed above his chunky metal belt, the kind the punk kids wore. Goddamn he was tiny. The boy was trembling slightly and a faint gloss of sweat was visible on his skin. He was strung out, or terrified, or both.
“Can I help you?” Bakuro asked.
The kid fiddled anxiously with his belt. He wasn’t looking at any of the bikes or gear that lined the walls of the shop, but mostly down at his hands, which seemed incapable of stillness. “The white bike in the back,” he said quietly, in clear unaccented Japanese.
“Ah,” Bakuro smiled knowingly. “Let me take you back there.”
He led the boy to the windowless office space that served as his secret storeroom. Once they were inside with the door closed behind them, the teenaer took off his sunglasses, revealing the most amazing eyes Bakuro had ever seen. He’d seen a lot of eyes - dead flat cynical eyes, desperate addicts’ eyes, eyes pinkened and yellowed and dilated and constricted. Nothing compared to the dark intensity he stared into now. Definitely not Asian eyes, and yet not quite European eyes either. They were an animal’s eyes. For a moment Bakuro was almost frightened. But in an instant, the flash of ferocity was gone, replaced by a quiet, smoldering desire. Desire was certainly what Bakuro himself was feeling right now, looking him over once more. What an exquisite physique. What an intriguing customer.
“I hear you’ve got decent coke at a cheap price,” the kid said, never keeping eye contact for more than a second. “And I’m dying right now. Fucking craving’s eating me alive.” He was biting his nails. “Thing is, I’m flat broke. I spent everything on blow, and now I’ve got like…well, a hundred yen.” He rifled through his empty pockets to illustrate the point, and came up with a single silver coin. “But please…I can't think about anything else…I’ll swear to god I’ll kill myself if I don’t get more.”
Bakuro shook his head. “Kid, I don’t know who you heard these rumors from, but you’re not getting shit for that kind of money around here.”
“Just one line?” he begged. And did he ever look good begging…
“I sell strictly by the gram.”
“Dammit!” The boy violently clawed at his hair. “But they said…”
“Well, whatever they said, they said wrong. Look, you picked a pricy fucking drug to mess with. If you don’t have the money, you can’t have the blow.” Bakuro almost felt sorry for him. This boy could be a model, really; he was far too pretty to wind up here with a debilitating craving and one hundred measly yen and probably no idea what was coming to him. “I mean, unless…”
“Unless…?” The boy looked up with what could only be described as puppy dog eyes. “Unless what?”
“There are other ways,” Bakuro said slowly, taking a step closer to his despairing customer. He wanted to savor this. “Other forms of payment. You maybe be familiar with some of them.”
“This is all I have.” His fingers shook as he held out the hundred-yen coin.
Bakuro took his outstretched hand, with the money still in it, and closed his own around it. Steadily he pulled the slim body towards him until they were inches apart. It had been a long time since Bakuro had been up so close to beauty like this. Bakuro ran his free hand along the teen’s perfect waist and down over the luscious curve of his ass. “I said, there are other ways.”
The boy gasped sharply at the touch, staring. “You mean…”
He tilted the boy’s chin upwards, admiring his delicate face. Though clearly frightened, he did not resist. “How old are you?” Bakuro asked.
The stunning eyes flitted sideways nervously. “Sixteen,” he answered. It sounded like a lie.
“You’re a pretty little thing, aren’t you?” Bakuro drawled, bringing both his hands around behind the boy’s ass. Their bodies were flush together, and Bakuro was rock hard. He could feel the kid’s heartbeat through his skintight shirt, which was darkening with sweat, and he could smell his fear.
“I bet you’ll fit nice and tight around my cock, Sixteen-kun. What do you say to that?”
The boy tried cautiously to back away, but Bakuro held him fast, pinning his thin arms behind his back, up against the door.
“What do you say, hm? It’s free cocaine, dummy. Not everyone gets a deal like this. Believe me.” Without releasing his hold, he ran a finger over the tight denim between the boy’s legs. “Don’t worry. I’ll treat you real good too.”
Sensing futility, the teen stopped struggling. He hung his head in resignation. Bakuro knew this moment well: the point where addiction overpowered self-respect.
“So you’re saying,” the boy said slowly, “if I let you fuck me, you’ll hook me up.”
Bakuro nodded.
“With a full gram of grade-A coke? Ten thousand’s worth?”
“For this ass?” He squeezed his prize firmly, and the boy winced. “I’ll give you two.” Damn, he was being nice to this kid. “Hell, I’ll give you one gram for just a nice, thorough BJ with those pretty lips of yours. It’s not every day someone walks in here looking like you.” He stroked the boy’s cheek, which was like silk. Even the kid’s tortured expression, a mix of self-disgust and abject defeat, couldn’t detract from his allure. “So. Do we have a deal?”
“I want the coke in advance,” the boy answered bitterly, grinding his teeth. “Otherwise, I don’t trust you.”
“Fair enough.” Still holding onto him, Bakuro pulled a keyring from his back pocket and unlocked the topmost filing cabinet, a convenient arm’s length away. Then he felt a sudden pain in his head as it smacked into what must have been the metal drawer. He staggered for a moment, dazed, and the boy whirled on him and held him down against the floor, his black eyes positively raging. The boy whipped a small, concealable knife from the inside of his belt and held the blade to Bakuro’s throat. But Bakuro didn’t panic just yet. Occupational hazards being what they were, this was a calculated risk for which he was prepared. The boy had a knife, but, if he could reach it, Bakuro had a gun.
And so did the two police officers who burst into the storeroom.
Bakuro looked up at the cops, and then up at the boy, who in a moment of inspiration had lowered his knife to the bulge in Bakuro’s pants where his erection still throbbed. He whimpered. How the hell did the cops get in? He thought he’d locked that door... Then he remembered the kid backing into it when he’d cornered him. Damn the brat.
“Sorry, Katsune Bakuro,” the boy said, staring down at him with a triumphant grin. “I’m afraid I’ll have to say no deal.” He pulled him forward, and the officers clamped handcuffs around Bakuro's wrists. “Maybe you’ll have better luck with your fellow inmates.”
*
Haru was so high on pure adrenaline he didn’t even look twice at the kilos and kilos of coke and who knew what else in those file cabinets. This was it. This was real fucking police action. As Yamamoto and Matsuda took Bakuro away, Haru exhaled with every cell in his body. His head spun. How in the world did he just do that? His skin crawled with the memory of Bakuro’s hands on him, but somehow it didn’t matter anymore. He could have laughed out loud.
“We’ve got you,” Matsuda was telling the dirty dealer as they headed out the door. “Everything’s on tape. Right Haru?”
“Oh, you mean this?” Haru pointed to the tiny device that had been interlaced with the black vinyl of his belt. “Yeah. I guess you guys should take this. I sure don’t want to hear that conversation again.” He tugged the wire free and handed it to his quasi-uncle, who had never looked prouder.
“Nicely done, Haru-kun,” Matsuda said as Yamamoto locked Bakuro in the back of the car. “You’re so brave.”
“Don’t mention it,” Haru said genially. With a grim smile, he realized that Matsuda didn’t know the half of it. And Haru wasn’t about to tell him. He shoved the shadow of the past to the back of his mind. For now, he still had an adrenaline high to ride out.
~*~
“How did it go?” asked Near when Haru arrived back at HQ. The current L had converted his office into a mazelike structure made entirely of magnets.
“It was awesome,” Haru replied, shaking his head. “I…I don’t even know what to say. It was insane. Thank you.”
“I was concerned that it would be too difficult for you. To be frank, I never expected you to even agree to the assignment, much less enjoy it, given your history.”
“But that’s just it! I felt like I was getting revenge. Holding my knife to his cock like that? It was exhilarating.”
Apparently this was the first Near had heard of any threats of genital mutilation, and he did not look like he approved.
“Were you ever afraid he would hurt you?” Near asked.
“Are you kidding? I was terrified!” He laughed. “But we are in the crime-fighting business, after all, sempai. If I’m not afraid, odds are I’m not working hard enough. And this…sex stings, I mean… this is something I can do that no one else here can. No offense.”
“None taken,” said Near. “But you speak as though you plan on repeating this charade.”
“I’m so inspired right now, you have no idea.” His eyes narrowed in malicious glee. “I want to get all the sex offenders off the streets, every Bakuro and Shujito, every fucking perv who preys on young boys, so that no one else has to go through what I went through four years ago.”
“That’s not going to be an easy task.”
“I know.” He smiled. “But if anyone can do it…My looks have always worked against me, but now, if I play it right, I can use that same handicap against them.” This was sheer euphoria. He’d never felt so powerful in his life, not on any drug, or after getting into Columbia, or anything. He could really be a hero. His own hero. He could take his own trauma and turn it into justice for dozens. Hundreds, even.
“It’s a dangerous thing, absolute beauty,” said Near quietly.
“You bet it is,” Haru replied. “Dangerous for sick bastards who are going to get their asses handed to them in prison!”
Near couldn’t help but smile. “Oh, Haru-kun. It would have been much harder to get Bakuro without your efforts. We knew he had the drug operation running, but I felt it was important to get him on the more serious charges, for which we had no solid proof, only inconclusive reports and hearsay.” He kissed Haru’s forehead. “Thank you for your courage. It’s a relief to have you back safely.”
“I’m relieved too,” said Haru. He was relieved the sting had helped build calluses rather than reopen wounds. He was relieved that Near at long last seemed to value and acknowledge what he brought to the table. And more than anything, he was relieved that he’d found a calling, a meaningful goal, a way to apply himself before he could take up Near’s mantle as L. In just two months, he’d be moving to New York, the city that never sleeps. Between now and then, he had work to do.
**
Next chapter...