Yagami Haru: Adventures in Solitude ~ Part 8/10
Title: "The One I Loved" (Harufic Part 8 of 10)
Characters: Haru, Near, Tom
Rating: R
Words: 4800
Warnings: Angsty romance all the way around. Themes of prostitution and drug addiction.
Summary: Haru has found a way to fund his coke habit. But at what price?
Disclaimer: I don’t own Death Note, but Haru and Tom are mine.
~*~
From the moment his spirit broke and he plunged headlong into prostitution, Haru drew a diverse clientele. He lured them as easily as before, only this time, he played their game. Some of them were quick and rough, using him like a disposable glove and bending him into positions he hadn’t even believed possible. Others treated him like a porcelain doll, taking their time and bathing him in compliments. A few were cautious, wondering if the dark-eyed boy could possibly be the notorious X. In cases like this, Haru simply waited. He let wary clients have their way with him the first night, instilling their trust in his complicity. Then, when they sought him out again, which they almost inevitably did, they let their guard down, and X’s hidden stinger surfaced at last. It thrilled him to lure his prey into the jaws of the law, the same kind of thrill, he realized, that Kira must have felt bringing down his victims. When he could, he got paid in cocaine, cutting out the middleman. He always knew more about his clients than they suspected; he knew which ones had access to coke, and which ones had criminal records. He knew which men he could ensnare in his twisted web of justice, and who would be just another fix for his own intertwined addictions.
Haru was boundlessly clever and worked his way out of every tight situation with logistical gymnastics. He always got what he wanted - justice, information, sexual attention, and drug money, just not necessarily in that order. From submission, he ultimately derived domination. It was a passive-aggressive kind of art, and he grew to crave it. He loved the moment of entrapment. He loved the feeling of being wanted, lusted after, the raw attention. He loved the thick hot throb of cock in his ass. And more than anything, he loved cocaine, and he needed the money or he’d never make it through this addiction and college at the same time.
Haru wondered if the cops suspected him of selling himself for real, playing both sides. Surely one of his arrested repeat customers would have said something. But neither Chief Bradley nor the Commissioner even hinted at it. At any rate, arresting X for prostitution wouldn’t be worth the loss of his invaluable services. They’d get one hustler off the streets in exchange for many more dangerous men left free. In the end, Haru always brought his clients to justice, once they had used each other to his satisfaction.
But to keep up with the number of busts he’d made in his early days and still earn the extra cash he needed for drugs, he had to work more than ever, sometimes three or four transactions a night. And the harder he worked, the more coke he consumed. Perhaps it was an unsustainable lifestyle, but if he stopped, he thought, he’d probably pass out for a whole year making up lost sleep. The euphoria of the drug also helped gloss over his darker emotions, though he was always chasing down a high he could never fully regain. Haru began to feel the physical strain of constant sex, but Tom, given his size and vigorous passion for Haru, could account for enough damage on his own that he suspected no foul play. Haru blamed scrapes and bruises on karate class, which he attended less and less; he got enough practice defending himself from furious criminals once they’d realized who he was. He still went clubbing with his friends on weekends, and, despite everything, managed to keep his head above water in school. He’d almost managed to fill his life with enough activities and anxieties to crowd out the persistent shame of being used and the ever-present ache of unrequited love. Almost.
~*~
In the middle of Chinese class, Haru’s cell phone rang. He nearly cursed aloud.
“You know the rules, Haru,” the professor said. Feeling sheepish, Haru handed over the offending phone to the teacher, who answered it, as was her policy. “Hello?”
Haru waited, exchanging awkward glances with his friend Sam and smiling guiltily. He wasn’t the first member of the class to suffer this embarrassment this term. Professor Chung spoke in clipped, amused English, as if she delighted in humiliating her students. “No, this is his professor…I see. Thank you Neil. I’ll let him know. Goodbye.”
His heart skipped a beat. Neil? Near. Near never called him. Why now? Throughout the remaining twenty minutes of class he was distracted. He doodled little pictures of Near on his notebook paper and in his textbook. None of them looked satisfactory. Normally his attention was impeccable during class, but these twenty minutes seemed like the longest twenty minutes he had ever known. By the end, his fingernails were completely destroyed. At last it ended, and the professor handed back his cell phone, along with a graded quiz from yesterday. Haru looked at his score: 96%. What the hell? He’d missed two whole questions. And they were easy ones, too, he realized now. What was wrong with him? He stuffed the paper into his bag and left.
The minute he got outside he redialed Near’s number. He waited for a few seconds listening only to the empty ring and the pulse of blood in his ears. Finally Near picked up. “Moshi moshi?”
“Hi, sempai,” Haru said in Japanese. Talking to Near in English, though it was closer to Near’s native tongue, felt weird.
“Hello Haru-kun. Your Chinese teacher has a similar cell phone policy to L.”
“Sorry about that. I always forget to turn it off.” It didn’t surprise him that Near knew precisely which class he had interrupted.
“I’m in New York today,” Near said. “Would you like to meet up?”
“Oh my god!” Haru’s heart raced. His first feeling was paranoia. But Near of all people wouldn’t have to come visit him in person to keep an eye on him, would he? He already knew everything that was going on everywhere. He must genuinely want to see Haru. “That’s great!” he said shakily. Still he was preoccupied with what Near knew. Should he mention Tom? He obviously didn’t need to mention X; it went without saying that Near was well aware of that situation. And he wasn’t about to mention his second income, or where it went.
“I trust you’re doing well on your own,” Near continued.
On your own. He meant financially, with the NYPD, but Haru pretended not to catch that. “Yeah. The people here are great. I’ll introduce you to my friends, if you like.” He laughed to himself at the notion of poor, awkward Near tagging along on one of their crazy nights.
“I’d rather we meet briefly, and alone. I don’t have much time here, but it would be a shame not to see you.”
“I’m free all afternoon.”
“Can you be at 120th and Riverside, at 5 pm?”
“Sure. Thanks for thinking of me! Should I…bring anything?”
“No. Just wanted to touch base while I was in town. I’m leaving tonight for Los Angeles.”
“Already? You only just arrived! What are you working on that’s so urgent?”
“Surely by now you have learned the value of secrecy, Haru-kun. I’ll see you at 5.”
~*~
Sure enough, at 5 on the dot, Haru and Near arrived at the same street corner. Near was in a car, a silver Infiniti, to be precise. He opened the door for Haru, who climbed in the back, next to the detective. He looked exactly the same as when Haru had left him. The most notable change was that he wasn’t wearing his typical white pajamas, but a black business suit. Haru had never seen Near in anything black before, much less a suit. The suit was slightly rumpled and Near’s posture was relaxed; clearly whatever event he’d needed to dress for had already passed. Still, he looked stunning. The driver was a featureless American man Haru didn’t recognize. They took off.
“Where are we going?” Haru asked.
“Nowhere. Lewis here is just driving us around the block for awhile, so we won’t be overheard.”
“Nice suit, by the way,” Haru smirked. “You look like a regular 007.”
“Thank you.” He was hoping Near would offer some sort of explanation of the occasion, but he didn’t. Furthermore, he gave no indication of what he had wanted to discuss with him. It was as though he expected Haru to initiate all the talking.
“So…let’s see. I’m taking four classes. Making As. Though I missed two questions on my latest Chinese quiz. I suppose I’m not sleeping enough, but I can’t help that.”
In flawless Mandarin, Near said something Haru vaguely translated as “Never rush; never rest.” Then he switched back to Japanese. “Financially, you’re managing?”
Haru made a conscious effort not to bite his thumb. “Yeah. It works out about perfectly, with my job, and the remaining tuition. It was the right decision for me, to do this on my own.” He laughed nervously. “I wouldn’t turn my nose up at a small New Year’s gift, of course.”
“Of course.”
“Also….” He hesitated. “I’ve been taking your advice. Seeing other people.”
Near nodded. “I figured as much.”
Haru wondered what that meant. Could Near read it in his face? Did he emanate some kind of pheromone that denoted promiscuity?
“There’s a boy. Tom. He’s...” His voice trailed off cautiously. He didn’t really want to hurt Near’s feelings by bragging about Tom, did he? But Near didn’t get jealous quite like Haru did. He would probably be happy Haru had moved on - to the extent that he had done so, that is. “He’s wonderful. Sexy, smart, fun…we’re rather public together. It’s safe here, most places.”
“Good.”
“I miss you,” Haru blurted out.
“I miss you too. But this is better, for us.”
Haru shook his head. “How is it better? You’re not getting any. And I’m…” he almost said ‘getting too much’, but he caught himself. “I’m divided now. Don’t you get it? I really, really like Tom. And I might love him, if not for you. But I love you, Near. I’ll always love you. And now I can’t help but hurt him, no matter what I do.”
“Stay with him, if you’re happy. Let me go. I’ll always be here.”
“What does ‘here’ mean? In New York? In Tokyo? Flying around the world? I want to be with you. Tom’s great, but he doesn’t understand. He’s not a part of…of this. Our world. I can’t talk about L or Kira or anything like that with him. Wammy’s. You. Everything that happened. He knows my parents are dead, and I have connections with the police, but that’s all.” What was he saying? Breaking from his past was exactly what he’d wanted. Hadn’t he? He didn’t know what he wanted anymore. He wanted to be loved for who he was, but how could anyone really know him, or understand him, without understanding all that had come before?
“We had four years,” Haru continued. “Four whole years of my life with you. I can’t just forget that now.”
“You found a boy your own age, attractive, intelligent, who loves you.”
“I know. But I can’t let go. You’re Near; you’re L. You’re like a superhero to me. Since I was six years old, you were all I wanted to be.” He noticed Near’s hand resting on the middle seat between them. He took the man’s hand in his own, and moved closer, leaning in to kiss him. Near turned away.
“Please,” Haru said. “Just…humor me for a moment, will you, sempai?”
Their lips met chastely. Then, as if he too were compelled by the siren’s lure, Near opened and deepened the kiss, his hand in Haru’s hair. Haru ached with longing. Thoughts of Japan flooded his mind, scents of childhood. Near smelled safe. He tasted safe. A sudden urge to follow Near home seized him. Reflexively, Haru’s hands were on him, creeping under the foreign fabrics of his suit, but Near seized them and pushed them away.
“Control yourself,” Near said, almost sharply. Haru looked away in shame and sat on his hands.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry…”
“Listen to me, Haru-kun.” Haru could sense the gravity in Near’s voice, and he listened wide-eyed. “Be careful. You do good work out there. Very good work. But be careful. Hide yourself well, and don’t let your guard down. If you ever get into trouble with the police, know that I will stand by you if necessary. As they say here, I’ve got your back.”
“Thank you.” Haru smiled. He did feel better knowing that, as he had presumptuously claimed in his first contact with the cops, X had L’s backing. Still, he sensed that the detective was trying to bait him into confessing his transgressions. Near certainly must have known about the drugs, at least to some extent, but beyond that…Haru couldn’t tell what he’d deduced. Then again, perhaps Near didn’t want to know any more than he already did about his boy lover’s fall from grace. At any rate, Haru kept quiet. Don’t ask, don’t tell.
“You be careful too,” Haru said. “I like being X. I don’t want to be L just yet.” He squeezed his hand. The thought that something might happen to Near chilled him. “Can’t you please stay a few more days?”
Near shook his fair head. “No. I have business elsewhere.”
Haru’s heart ached. It felt so good to see Near, and yet he wished he had never come. It reminded him of what he had been killing himself to forget. It also made him feel dirty, so far removed from the newly tarnished child who had turned to Near for comfort, and yet, not far enough. He was on the precipice of kissing Near again, throwing himself at him and begging him to stay or take him along, but before he could, his phone rang for what seemed like the hundredth time today. It was Tom.
“Hi there,” Haru answered as brightly as he could manage. He mouthed ‘It’s Tom’ and winked silently to Near, who nodded.
“Hey Hallie-baby. Where are you?”
“Out and about. I’ll be home soon, though.”
“Marcus and Dylan are thinking of going to Diva in the East Village tonight around 10. They asked me if we wanted to double date.”
“Sounds good! Can I meet you there, though? I’m supposed to hook up with Hernan at 9.”
“Okay. Wait…really? What happened to the eight ball you bought yesterday?”
Even over the phone, Haru figured Tom could sense him rolling his eyes. “What do you think happened to it, geniuspants?”
Tom sighed audibly. “You’re a fuckup. But I love you.”
“Hey now, as I recall, you had your fair share of it last night.”
“You have a very interesting definition of 'fair', babe," laughed Tom. "I’ll see you at Diva.”
“Can’t wait! Bye!”
When Haru closed his phone, Near was looking at him coolly.
“Sorry about that, sempai.”
“Who’s Hernan?”
“He’s a friend of ours, but I’m not actually going to meet him. The truth is, I’m hoping to make a bust tonight in midtown.”
“You lie like your father,” said Near.
“Which one do you mean?” Haru asked.
Near looked out the car window. “The one I loved.”
Near’s quiet confession almost moved Haru to tears. Near had loved L, just as Haru loved Near. He’d always known that, he supposed, but he’d never expected Near to acknowledge it outright. He wondered how much of Near’s attraction to him was rooted in his filial resemblance. It was not the first time he had wondered that, but it was the first time he really understood Near’s conviction that they were better off apart. It wouldn’t be fair of Near to lead Haru on if all he really loved was the memory of L. Maybe it was true. Maybe Near never could love Haru for himself, separate from his heritage. But Haru was well acquainted with impossible, unrequited love, and he couldn’t hold that against anyone.
“Why does this happen to us?” he asked sadly, pulling Near into an embrace. “Are we doomed to this, to love what we can never keep?”
Hugging him back, Near shook his head. “I wish I knew.”
~*~
“I just can’t stare at this goddamn computer screen any longer, or my eyes will explode.” Haru rubbed his eyes, which felt about the size of tennis balls in their sockets.
“You look exhausted,” Tom said. “Finals are taking their toll on even you?”
“Ugh,” Haru mumbled into his coffee cup. “I feel so gross. I think I’m getting sick. Is it flu season here now?”
“Seriously, Hal, you should consider getting some sleep.”
“I don’t need sleep.”
“Everybody needs sleep. Especially you. Honestly, I don’t know how you function.”
“Perfectly fine, thank you.” Grumpy Haru was grumpy. “I’m just used to running on a lot more blow, is all, and I can’t snort as much right now with my nose stuffed up like it is.” He coughed. “It’s a cold. It’ll pass.”
“Haru…I don’t know how to put this. I don’t mean to preach, but…you do far too much cocaine. You drink espresso like water. You eat terribly. I’m worried your heart is going to explode, babe. You need to get help for this.”
“I don’t need help,” Haru grumbled, leaning back in his chair. He really wasn’t feeling good at all. It didn’t help that he’d spent the night tied to a motel bed with a cock in his mouth and a handgun up his ass. He’d get the cops on that last guy for sure. His head hurt and his insides hurt and exams were two days away. He stuffed an entire cupcake in his mouth so that if Tom asked him a question he wouldn’t be able to answer.
“You’re an addict, Haru. You’re not healthy. I can see it. You’ve changed since I met you.”
Haru shook his head, swallowing the cupcake. “I was already addicted when you met me,” Haru sighed, licking frosting from his lip. “There’s nothing you can do about it. It was too late then, and it’s too late now. I love it too much. I feel dead when I don’t have it. It’s like sex for me.”
Tom kissed him softly on the cheek. “Come on, Hallie. Let’s go have a nap.”
Haru chuckled. “You honestly think if we get into bed together we’ll sleep? Please.”
“Well, whatever we do, it’ll get our minds off studying for once.”
Tom lay back on the bed and Haru snuggled up alongside him, playing little spoon. He tried to close his eyes. In the rare silence, he could hear their two heartbeats like little drums. His own heart rate was almost twice as fast as Tom’s; about 1.8 times as fast, he measured in his head. That disturbed him a bit. He tried to remember what life had been like before he’d gotten into coke. Of course, he’d been overdoing the Ritalin to such an extent that it might as well have been training wheels. He shuddered involuntarily, and Tom squeezed his narrow body close against him. Haru smiled. He didn’t need an intervention. He didn’t need help. He needed this: Tom’s arms around him, smooth and firm and always warm.
Tom began to stroke his chest over his T-shirt. He moved a hand between Haru’s legs. Haru giggled. “See? We lasted all of five minutes before you started touching me.”
“What can I tell you?” said Tom. “Your body’s irresistible. Like fucking magic.”
Haru wriggled his butt deeper into the crook of Tom’s body and felt hardness there behind him. Tom slipped his hand into Haru’s pants and massaged his cock in slow circles. Haru moaned quietly and responded by grinding back against his partner. Their bodies fit together like puzzle pieces. And puzzle pieces made him think of Near. No! He had to stop. This was Tom, who was eighteen like him, who was hot and fun and social and at least understood his love of coke even if he tried to restrain it. Tom, who loved Haru for who he was, not who his father had been. Tom, who had two solid inches on Near, if his memory served, which it usually did. Said two inches were presently pressing into his lower back. Mmmmh.
Tom unbuttoned Haru’s jeans and pushed them down, licking the elastic edge of his briefs. Haru rolled lazily onto his back, and Tom nuzzled his crotch. But when Tom saw the backs of Haru’s inner thighs, he stopped.
“What happened here? It’s like…really red. ”
Haru looked, swallowing his panic. “Hm?…Oh.”
“You’re all scratched up down here. All between your thighs, it’s all raw. And - wow...”
“It’s just chafing. From karate. Don’t worry about it.”
“How the hell is this from karate? This looks really bad. Was it like this yesterday?”
Haru pulled his legs away, covering himself. “It’s fine. It doesn’t hurt.”
“Wait, Haru…you didn’t go to karate yesterday. You were sick and stayed home.” He took a closer look again, pulling back Haru’s underwear. “Is that a bite mark?” Tom stared at a reddish bruise below his hipbone. “Holy shit! You’ve been with someone else, haven’t you!”
Haru looked away from him and thought he might throw up. This wasn’t happening. It wasn’t. “That…would be a logical conclusion,” he said regretfully.
Tom grabbed Haru and shoved him off the bed. Haru didn’t resist. He tumbled to the floor with his jeans around his ankles. He hit the ground hard but barely felt a thing.
“I can’t believe you,” Tom yelled. “You’re cheating on me!”
Haru’s eyes widened into that desperate, childlike look that always used to work on everyone. “It didn’t mean anything,” he pleaded, knowing that's what everyone always sad. “I needed…”
“Needed what?” Tom stood up over him. “Better sex than me?”
“No, of course not - ”
“Who’d you fuck?” Tom fumed at Haru. “Another student? That shady-ass Hernan?”
Haru shook his head in the negative, staring blankly at the floor. “I…”
“You don’t even know, do you?” Tom realized. “You’ve got no fucking clue!”
“Please…Tom…” Haru coughed.
“You needed drugs, didn’t you, Haru? Is that it? You sold yourself to a random guy just to get some coke?”
Haru closed his eyes and swallowed dryly. He didn’t nod, but he might as well have. Suddenly, after months of successful secrecy, Tom could read him like a book.
“Jesus, I wondered how the hell you could afford to snort blow like it was oxygen. All those late nights you tell me you’ve been studying alone, you’ve been whoring yourself out?”
“Tom, I have to explain something.”
“You’re damn right you do. Goddamnit, Haru, I thought I loved you. I don’t even know who you are.”
“It’s not the way you think it is.”
“Oh? You’re not a coke whore? Then tell me how it really is, because I’m very curious to know.”
“I…”
But, Haru realized, he couldn’t deny it. Even though it wasn’t the whole truth, it was true, nevertheless. And if he told Tom he was X, that that’s how this had started, he’d blow his cover, and for what? It was no excuse; Tom still wouldn’t forgive him. No one would.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you!” He began to cry and hated himself even more for that. Tom looked down at him with sheer contempt. “I wish I hadn’t done it. But I...I can't stop.”
“I don’t want to ask how long you’ve been doing this, or how many different cocks have been in your dirty lying mouth.” Tom’s green eyes had hardened to a stormy gray. “What if I’ve got HIV now or something? Ever think about that? Ever think for one minute about what you might be doing to me?”
“Tom…” Haru thought he might vomit up the single cupcake that was denaturing in his stomach. “You don’t have HIV. Trust me.”
“Trust you? Trust you? I can’t even stand to look at you. Get out.”
Haru lay very still, with his head in his hands and his knees drawn up to his chest. “Please…please help me.”
“Get out!” Tom kicked the corner of the desk, just inches away from Haru, who flinched. He pulled himself to his feet weakly. His swollen eyes burned with tears of shame.
“I’m sorry, Tom. You deserve so much better.”
“Yeah. I wish I’d realized that sooner.”
Tom said nothing more. He turned away. Haru fled Tom’s room and ran all the way to his own dorm, feeling dirty and worthless. Tom was right. He’d been horrible. Worst of all, he knew he couldn’t stop. If he could, he would have done so a long time ago. It wasn’t just the drug money anymore; the very act itself compelled him. What would Near say, when he found out? What if he already knew? Did he even care? And why the hell was he thinking about Near at this time? Tom was his real boyfriend, the one he had taken for granted. The most wonderful boy in the world, whom he’d been so lucky to meet and kiss and fuck, whom he never meant to cheat on, never. He realized sickly that he’d never thought of prostitution as cheating on Tom. As far as he was concerned, when he was with Tom he was already cheating on Near. But the sick men prowling the streets were different; they meant nothing to him. They couldn’t possibly count, he’d thought. Now he realized how ridiculous, how fucking irrational that had been. He had always been the smart one, but this time, he had been so, so stupid. How could he do this?
Everyone at school would know. Jennifer would hate him. Marcus and Dylan, and Leslie, and everyone would hate him. Even strangers. He imagined the conversations:
“What happened to your boyfriend, that cute hapa kid?”
“We broke up. Turns out he’s been playing me this whole time. Whoring his ass out for drugs, of all things, the fucking slut. It destroyed me.”
“Jesus Christ, Tom. Wow, that’s rough. Hustling? I never would have guessed. I mean…well, to be honest, he did a shitload of coke.”
“Are we talking about Haru Yagami? Oh yeah. Serious cokehead. That’s one kid who’s not going to have a septum when he’s 30.”
“Or a functional sphincter.”
“Oh, zing!”
He was the most pathetic, the most wretched person in the world. He couldn’t believe his behavior in front of Tom. He hadn’t even sworn to never do it again, because he knew he couldn’t keep a promise like that. All he’d done was cry and beg for help. As if. Who would want to help him after betrayal like that?
He fell back on his bed, where he and Tom had made love - no, face it, they’d just fucked - for the first time. Now he could never be with Tom again. Had he subconsciously sabotaged his first normal relationship just so he wouldn’t be torn between him and Near any longer? Was he really that selfish?
He knew what he had to do to forget about this. He had to get back to work. There was vengeance to be had tonight. He cut five thick lines of coke and did them all in a row. His nose burned like hell. He took off his jeans and t-shirt and pulled on his nearly-backless vinyl pants, his industrial boots, his blackest sheer top, his stiff fingerless bondage gloves. He streaked his naturally dark-rimmed eyes with crimson and teased his hair into a tangle of hell. Then in his fury he roundhouse kicked the wall a hundred times, until his foot felt vaguely numb. There was a charcoal-colored smudge on the wall where his boot had struck the exact same spot, over and over and over. At last he fell back on the ground, chest heaving.
It hit him all at once, finally, the sickness of this all. The sick, vile weakness of everything he’d done. The faces of hideous men taunted him. Faces and words and stenches. He was nothing but an empty whore, reckless, loveless and fatherless. He might as well be proud of himself. The boy who fucked the world. Fucking world. Fuck them all! He didn’t need them. He needed - what? Someone who would never have him now. There was only one thing left now, one lover who would take him in. New York. The night. The diamond jaws of Lady Cocaine. Call it what you will; he was at its merciless mercy. He was going dancing, dancing with death. He might even kill a man tonight. It felt right. His bones were boiling in their sockets. He hated himself so much that suicide was too kind an option to even consider. He would put himself through hell for this.
He opened the door and faced the night. The lights called to him in harsh electric voices.
~*~
Next chapter...
Characters: Haru, Near, Tom
Rating: R
Words: 4800
Warnings: Angsty romance all the way around. Themes of prostitution and drug addiction.
Summary: Haru has found a way to fund his coke habit. But at what price?
Disclaimer: I don’t own Death Note, but Haru and Tom are mine.
~*~
From the moment his spirit broke and he plunged headlong into prostitution, Haru drew a diverse clientele. He lured them as easily as before, only this time, he played their game. Some of them were quick and rough, using him like a disposable glove and bending him into positions he hadn’t even believed possible. Others treated him like a porcelain doll, taking their time and bathing him in compliments. A few were cautious, wondering if the dark-eyed boy could possibly be the notorious X. In cases like this, Haru simply waited. He let wary clients have their way with him the first night, instilling their trust in his complicity. Then, when they sought him out again, which they almost inevitably did, they let their guard down, and X’s hidden stinger surfaced at last. It thrilled him to lure his prey into the jaws of the law, the same kind of thrill, he realized, that Kira must have felt bringing down his victims. When he could, he got paid in cocaine, cutting out the middleman. He always knew more about his clients than they suspected; he knew which ones had access to coke, and which ones had criminal records. He knew which men he could ensnare in his twisted web of justice, and who would be just another fix for his own intertwined addictions.
Haru was boundlessly clever and worked his way out of every tight situation with logistical gymnastics. He always got what he wanted - justice, information, sexual attention, and drug money, just not necessarily in that order. From submission, he ultimately derived domination. It was a passive-aggressive kind of art, and he grew to crave it. He loved the moment of entrapment. He loved the feeling of being wanted, lusted after, the raw attention. He loved the thick hot throb of cock in his ass. And more than anything, he loved cocaine, and he needed the money or he’d never make it through this addiction and college at the same time.
Haru wondered if the cops suspected him of selling himself for real, playing both sides. Surely one of his arrested repeat customers would have said something. But neither Chief Bradley nor the Commissioner even hinted at it. At any rate, arresting X for prostitution wouldn’t be worth the loss of his invaluable services. They’d get one hustler off the streets in exchange for many more dangerous men left free. In the end, Haru always brought his clients to justice, once they had used each other to his satisfaction.
But to keep up with the number of busts he’d made in his early days and still earn the extra cash he needed for drugs, he had to work more than ever, sometimes three or four transactions a night. And the harder he worked, the more coke he consumed. Perhaps it was an unsustainable lifestyle, but if he stopped, he thought, he’d probably pass out for a whole year making up lost sleep. The euphoria of the drug also helped gloss over his darker emotions, though he was always chasing down a high he could never fully regain. Haru began to feel the physical strain of constant sex, but Tom, given his size and vigorous passion for Haru, could account for enough damage on his own that he suspected no foul play. Haru blamed scrapes and bruises on karate class, which he attended less and less; he got enough practice defending himself from furious criminals once they’d realized who he was. He still went clubbing with his friends on weekends, and, despite everything, managed to keep his head above water in school. He’d almost managed to fill his life with enough activities and anxieties to crowd out the persistent shame of being used and the ever-present ache of unrequited love. Almost.
~*~
In the middle of Chinese class, Haru’s cell phone rang. He nearly cursed aloud.
“You know the rules, Haru,” the professor said. Feeling sheepish, Haru handed over the offending phone to the teacher, who answered it, as was her policy. “Hello?”
Haru waited, exchanging awkward glances with his friend Sam and smiling guiltily. He wasn’t the first member of the class to suffer this embarrassment this term. Professor Chung spoke in clipped, amused English, as if she delighted in humiliating her students. “No, this is his professor…I see. Thank you Neil. I’ll let him know. Goodbye.”
His heart skipped a beat. Neil? Near. Near never called him. Why now? Throughout the remaining twenty minutes of class he was distracted. He doodled little pictures of Near on his notebook paper and in his textbook. None of them looked satisfactory. Normally his attention was impeccable during class, but these twenty minutes seemed like the longest twenty minutes he had ever known. By the end, his fingernails were completely destroyed. At last it ended, and the professor handed back his cell phone, along with a graded quiz from yesterday. Haru looked at his score: 96%. What the hell? He’d missed two whole questions. And they were easy ones, too, he realized now. What was wrong with him? He stuffed the paper into his bag and left.
The minute he got outside he redialed Near’s number. He waited for a few seconds listening only to the empty ring and the pulse of blood in his ears. Finally Near picked up. “Moshi moshi?”
“Hi, sempai,” Haru said in Japanese. Talking to Near in English, though it was closer to Near’s native tongue, felt weird.
“Hello Haru-kun. Your Chinese teacher has a similar cell phone policy to L.”
“Sorry about that. I always forget to turn it off.” It didn’t surprise him that Near knew precisely which class he had interrupted.
“I’m in New York today,” Near said. “Would you like to meet up?”
“Oh my god!” Haru’s heart raced. His first feeling was paranoia. But Near of all people wouldn’t have to come visit him in person to keep an eye on him, would he? He already knew everything that was going on everywhere. He must genuinely want to see Haru. “That’s great!” he said shakily. Still he was preoccupied with what Near knew. Should he mention Tom? He obviously didn’t need to mention X; it went without saying that Near was well aware of that situation. And he wasn’t about to mention his second income, or where it went.
“I trust you’re doing well on your own,” Near continued.
On your own. He meant financially, with the NYPD, but Haru pretended not to catch that. “Yeah. The people here are great. I’ll introduce you to my friends, if you like.” He laughed to himself at the notion of poor, awkward Near tagging along on one of their crazy nights.
“I’d rather we meet briefly, and alone. I don’t have much time here, but it would be a shame not to see you.”
“I’m free all afternoon.”
“Can you be at 120th and Riverside, at 5 pm?”
“Sure. Thanks for thinking of me! Should I…bring anything?”
“No. Just wanted to touch base while I was in town. I’m leaving tonight for Los Angeles.”
“Already? You only just arrived! What are you working on that’s so urgent?”
“Surely by now you have learned the value of secrecy, Haru-kun. I’ll see you at 5.”
~*~
Sure enough, at 5 on the dot, Haru and Near arrived at the same street corner. Near was in a car, a silver Infiniti, to be precise. He opened the door for Haru, who climbed in the back, next to the detective. He looked exactly the same as when Haru had left him. The most notable change was that he wasn’t wearing his typical white pajamas, but a black business suit. Haru had never seen Near in anything black before, much less a suit. The suit was slightly rumpled and Near’s posture was relaxed; clearly whatever event he’d needed to dress for had already passed. Still, he looked stunning. The driver was a featureless American man Haru didn’t recognize. They took off.
“Where are we going?” Haru asked.
“Nowhere. Lewis here is just driving us around the block for awhile, so we won’t be overheard.”
“Nice suit, by the way,” Haru smirked. “You look like a regular 007.”
“Thank you.” He was hoping Near would offer some sort of explanation of the occasion, but he didn’t. Furthermore, he gave no indication of what he had wanted to discuss with him. It was as though he expected Haru to initiate all the talking.
“So…let’s see. I’m taking four classes. Making As. Though I missed two questions on my latest Chinese quiz. I suppose I’m not sleeping enough, but I can’t help that.”
In flawless Mandarin, Near said something Haru vaguely translated as “Never rush; never rest.” Then he switched back to Japanese. “Financially, you’re managing?”
Haru made a conscious effort not to bite his thumb. “Yeah. It works out about perfectly, with my job, and the remaining tuition. It was the right decision for me, to do this on my own.” He laughed nervously. “I wouldn’t turn my nose up at a small New Year’s gift, of course.”
“Of course.”
“Also….” He hesitated. “I’ve been taking your advice. Seeing other people.”
Near nodded. “I figured as much.”
Haru wondered what that meant. Could Near read it in his face? Did he emanate some kind of pheromone that denoted promiscuity?
“There’s a boy. Tom. He’s...” His voice trailed off cautiously. He didn’t really want to hurt Near’s feelings by bragging about Tom, did he? But Near didn’t get jealous quite like Haru did. He would probably be happy Haru had moved on - to the extent that he had done so, that is. “He’s wonderful. Sexy, smart, fun…we’re rather public together. It’s safe here, most places.”
“Good.”
“I miss you,” Haru blurted out.
“I miss you too. But this is better, for us.”
Haru shook his head. “How is it better? You’re not getting any. And I’m…” he almost said ‘getting too much’, but he caught himself. “I’m divided now. Don’t you get it? I really, really like Tom. And I might love him, if not for you. But I love you, Near. I’ll always love you. And now I can’t help but hurt him, no matter what I do.”
“Stay with him, if you’re happy. Let me go. I’ll always be here.”
“What does ‘here’ mean? In New York? In Tokyo? Flying around the world? I want to be with you. Tom’s great, but he doesn’t understand. He’s not a part of…of this. Our world. I can’t talk about L or Kira or anything like that with him. Wammy’s. You. Everything that happened. He knows my parents are dead, and I have connections with the police, but that’s all.” What was he saying? Breaking from his past was exactly what he’d wanted. Hadn’t he? He didn’t know what he wanted anymore. He wanted to be loved for who he was, but how could anyone really know him, or understand him, without understanding all that had come before?
“We had four years,” Haru continued. “Four whole years of my life with you. I can’t just forget that now.”
“You found a boy your own age, attractive, intelligent, who loves you.”
“I know. But I can’t let go. You’re Near; you’re L. You’re like a superhero to me. Since I was six years old, you were all I wanted to be.” He noticed Near’s hand resting on the middle seat between them. He took the man’s hand in his own, and moved closer, leaning in to kiss him. Near turned away.
“Please,” Haru said. “Just…humor me for a moment, will you, sempai?”
Their lips met chastely. Then, as if he too were compelled by the siren’s lure, Near opened and deepened the kiss, his hand in Haru’s hair. Haru ached with longing. Thoughts of Japan flooded his mind, scents of childhood. Near smelled safe. He tasted safe. A sudden urge to follow Near home seized him. Reflexively, Haru’s hands were on him, creeping under the foreign fabrics of his suit, but Near seized them and pushed them away.
“Control yourself,” Near said, almost sharply. Haru looked away in shame and sat on his hands.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry…”
“Listen to me, Haru-kun.” Haru could sense the gravity in Near’s voice, and he listened wide-eyed. “Be careful. You do good work out there. Very good work. But be careful. Hide yourself well, and don’t let your guard down. If you ever get into trouble with the police, know that I will stand by you if necessary. As they say here, I’ve got your back.”
“Thank you.” Haru smiled. He did feel better knowing that, as he had presumptuously claimed in his first contact with the cops, X had L’s backing. Still, he sensed that the detective was trying to bait him into confessing his transgressions. Near certainly must have known about the drugs, at least to some extent, but beyond that…Haru couldn’t tell what he’d deduced. Then again, perhaps Near didn’t want to know any more than he already did about his boy lover’s fall from grace. At any rate, Haru kept quiet. Don’t ask, don’t tell.
“You be careful too,” Haru said. “I like being X. I don’t want to be L just yet.” He squeezed his hand. The thought that something might happen to Near chilled him. “Can’t you please stay a few more days?”
Near shook his fair head. “No. I have business elsewhere.”
Haru’s heart ached. It felt so good to see Near, and yet he wished he had never come. It reminded him of what he had been killing himself to forget. It also made him feel dirty, so far removed from the newly tarnished child who had turned to Near for comfort, and yet, not far enough. He was on the precipice of kissing Near again, throwing himself at him and begging him to stay or take him along, but before he could, his phone rang for what seemed like the hundredth time today. It was Tom.
“Hi there,” Haru answered as brightly as he could manage. He mouthed ‘It’s Tom’ and winked silently to Near, who nodded.
“Hey Hallie-baby. Where are you?”
“Out and about. I’ll be home soon, though.”
“Marcus and Dylan are thinking of going to Diva in the East Village tonight around 10. They asked me if we wanted to double date.”
“Sounds good! Can I meet you there, though? I’m supposed to hook up with Hernan at 9.”
“Okay. Wait…really? What happened to the eight ball you bought yesterday?”
Even over the phone, Haru figured Tom could sense him rolling his eyes. “What do you think happened to it, geniuspants?”
Tom sighed audibly. “You’re a fuckup. But I love you.”
“Hey now, as I recall, you had your fair share of it last night.”
“You have a very interesting definition of 'fair', babe," laughed Tom. "I’ll see you at Diva.”
“Can’t wait! Bye!”
When Haru closed his phone, Near was looking at him coolly.
“Sorry about that, sempai.”
“Who’s Hernan?”
“He’s a friend of ours, but I’m not actually going to meet him. The truth is, I’m hoping to make a bust tonight in midtown.”
“You lie like your father,” said Near.
“Which one do you mean?” Haru asked.
Near looked out the car window. “The one I loved.”
Near’s quiet confession almost moved Haru to tears. Near had loved L, just as Haru loved Near. He’d always known that, he supposed, but he’d never expected Near to acknowledge it outright. He wondered how much of Near’s attraction to him was rooted in his filial resemblance. It was not the first time he had wondered that, but it was the first time he really understood Near’s conviction that they were better off apart. It wouldn’t be fair of Near to lead Haru on if all he really loved was the memory of L. Maybe it was true. Maybe Near never could love Haru for himself, separate from his heritage. But Haru was well acquainted with impossible, unrequited love, and he couldn’t hold that against anyone.
“Why does this happen to us?” he asked sadly, pulling Near into an embrace. “Are we doomed to this, to love what we can never keep?”
Hugging him back, Near shook his head. “I wish I knew.”
~*~
“I just can’t stare at this goddamn computer screen any longer, or my eyes will explode.” Haru rubbed his eyes, which felt about the size of tennis balls in their sockets.
“You look exhausted,” Tom said. “Finals are taking their toll on even you?”
“Ugh,” Haru mumbled into his coffee cup. “I feel so gross. I think I’m getting sick. Is it flu season here now?”
“Seriously, Hal, you should consider getting some sleep.”
“I don’t need sleep.”
“Everybody needs sleep. Especially you. Honestly, I don’t know how you function.”
“Perfectly fine, thank you.” Grumpy Haru was grumpy. “I’m just used to running on a lot more blow, is all, and I can’t snort as much right now with my nose stuffed up like it is.” He coughed. “It’s a cold. It’ll pass.”
“Haru…I don’t know how to put this. I don’t mean to preach, but…you do far too much cocaine. You drink espresso like water. You eat terribly. I’m worried your heart is going to explode, babe. You need to get help for this.”
“I don’t need help,” Haru grumbled, leaning back in his chair. He really wasn’t feeling good at all. It didn’t help that he’d spent the night tied to a motel bed with a cock in his mouth and a handgun up his ass. He’d get the cops on that last guy for sure. His head hurt and his insides hurt and exams were two days away. He stuffed an entire cupcake in his mouth so that if Tom asked him a question he wouldn’t be able to answer.
“You’re an addict, Haru. You’re not healthy. I can see it. You’ve changed since I met you.”
Haru shook his head, swallowing the cupcake. “I was already addicted when you met me,” Haru sighed, licking frosting from his lip. “There’s nothing you can do about it. It was too late then, and it’s too late now. I love it too much. I feel dead when I don’t have it. It’s like sex for me.”
Tom kissed him softly on the cheek. “Come on, Hallie. Let’s go have a nap.”
Haru chuckled. “You honestly think if we get into bed together we’ll sleep? Please.”
“Well, whatever we do, it’ll get our minds off studying for once.”
Tom lay back on the bed and Haru snuggled up alongside him, playing little spoon. He tried to close his eyes. In the rare silence, he could hear their two heartbeats like little drums. His own heart rate was almost twice as fast as Tom’s; about 1.8 times as fast, he measured in his head. That disturbed him a bit. He tried to remember what life had been like before he’d gotten into coke. Of course, he’d been overdoing the Ritalin to such an extent that it might as well have been training wheels. He shuddered involuntarily, and Tom squeezed his narrow body close against him. Haru smiled. He didn’t need an intervention. He didn’t need help. He needed this: Tom’s arms around him, smooth and firm and always warm.
Tom began to stroke his chest over his T-shirt. He moved a hand between Haru’s legs. Haru giggled. “See? We lasted all of five minutes before you started touching me.”
“What can I tell you?” said Tom. “Your body’s irresistible. Like fucking magic.”
Haru wriggled his butt deeper into the crook of Tom’s body and felt hardness there behind him. Tom slipped his hand into Haru’s pants and massaged his cock in slow circles. Haru moaned quietly and responded by grinding back against his partner. Their bodies fit together like puzzle pieces. And puzzle pieces made him think of Near. No! He had to stop. This was Tom, who was eighteen like him, who was hot and fun and social and at least understood his love of coke even if he tried to restrain it. Tom, who loved Haru for who he was, not who his father had been. Tom, who had two solid inches on Near, if his memory served, which it usually did. Said two inches were presently pressing into his lower back. Mmmmh.
Tom unbuttoned Haru’s jeans and pushed them down, licking the elastic edge of his briefs. Haru rolled lazily onto his back, and Tom nuzzled his crotch. But when Tom saw the backs of Haru’s inner thighs, he stopped.
“What happened here? It’s like…really red. ”
Haru looked, swallowing his panic. “Hm?…Oh.”
“You’re all scratched up down here. All between your thighs, it’s all raw. And - wow...”
“It’s just chafing. From karate. Don’t worry about it.”
“How the hell is this from karate? This looks really bad. Was it like this yesterday?”
Haru pulled his legs away, covering himself. “It’s fine. It doesn’t hurt.”
“Wait, Haru…you didn’t go to karate yesterday. You were sick and stayed home.” He took a closer look again, pulling back Haru’s underwear. “Is that a bite mark?” Tom stared at a reddish bruise below his hipbone. “Holy shit! You’ve been with someone else, haven’t you!”
Haru looked away from him and thought he might throw up. This wasn’t happening. It wasn’t. “That…would be a logical conclusion,” he said regretfully.
Tom grabbed Haru and shoved him off the bed. Haru didn’t resist. He tumbled to the floor with his jeans around his ankles. He hit the ground hard but barely felt a thing.
“I can’t believe you,” Tom yelled. “You’re cheating on me!”
Haru’s eyes widened into that desperate, childlike look that always used to work on everyone. “It didn’t mean anything,” he pleaded, knowing that's what everyone always sad. “I needed…”
“Needed what?” Tom stood up over him. “Better sex than me?”
“No, of course not - ”
“Who’d you fuck?” Tom fumed at Haru. “Another student? That shady-ass Hernan?”
Haru shook his head in the negative, staring blankly at the floor. “I…”
“You don’t even know, do you?” Tom realized. “You’ve got no fucking clue!”
“Please…Tom…” Haru coughed.
“You needed drugs, didn’t you, Haru? Is that it? You sold yourself to a random guy just to get some coke?”
Haru closed his eyes and swallowed dryly. He didn’t nod, but he might as well have. Suddenly, after months of successful secrecy, Tom could read him like a book.
“Jesus, I wondered how the hell you could afford to snort blow like it was oxygen. All those late nights you tell me you’ve been studying alone, you’ve been whoring yourself out?”
“Tom, I have to explain something.”
“You’re damn right you do. Goddamnit, Haru, I thought I loved you. I don’t even know who you are.”
“It’s not the way you think it is.”
“Oh? You’re not a coke whore? Then tell me how it really is, because I’m very curious to know.”
“I…”
But, Haru realized, he couldn’t deny it. Even though it wasn’t the whole truth, it was true, nevertheless. And if he told Tom he was X, that that’s how this had started, he’d blow his cover, and for what? It was no excuse; Tom still wouldn’t forgive him. No one would.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you!” He began to cry and hated himself even more for that. Tom looked down at him with sheer contempt. “I wish I hadn’t done it. But I...I can't stop.”
“I don’t want to ask how long you’ve been doing this, or how many different cocks have been in your dirty lying mouth.” Tom’s green eyes had hardened to a stormy gray. “What if I’ve got HIV now or something? Ever think about that? Ever think for one minute about what you might be doing to me?”
“Tom…” Haru thought he might vomit up the single cupcake that was denaturing in his stomach. “You don’t have HIV. Trust me.”
“Trust you? Trust you? I can’t even stand to look at you. Get out.”
Haru lay very still, with his head in his hands and his knees drawn up to his chest. “Please…please help me.”
“Get out!” Tom kicked the corner of the desk, just inches away from Haru, who flinched. He pulled himself to his feet weakly. His swollen eyes burned with tears of shame.
“I’m sorry, Tom. You deserve so much better.”
“Yeah. I wish I’d realized that sooner.”
Tom said nothing more. He turned away. Haru fled Tom’s room and ran all the way to his own dorm, feeling dirty and worthless. Tom was right. He’d been horrible. Worst of all, he knew he couldn’t stop. If he could, he would have done so a long time ago. It wasn’t just the drug money anymore; the very act itself compelled him. What would Near say, when he found out? What if he already knew? Did he even care? And why the hell was he thinking about Near at this time? Tom was his real boyfriend, the one he had taken for granted. The most wonderful boy in the world, whom he’d been so lucky to meet and kiss and fuck, whom he never meant to cheat on, never. He realized sickly that he’d never thought of prostitution as cheating on Tom. As far as he was concerned, when he was with Tom he was already cheating on Near. But the sick men prowling the streets were different; they meant nothing to him. They couldn’t possibly count, he’d thought. Now he realized how ridiculous, how fucking irrational that had been. He had always been the smart one, but this time, he had been so, so stupid. How could he do this?
Everyone at school would know. Jennifer would hate him. Marcus and Dylan, and Leslie, and everyone would hate him. Even strangers. He imagined the conversations:
“What happened to your boyfriend, that cute hapa kid?”
“We broke up. Turns out he’s been playing me this whole time. Whoring his ass out for drugs, of all things, the fucking slut. It destroyed me.”
“Jesus Christ, Tom. Wow, that’s rough. Hustling? I never would have guessed. I mean…well, to be honest, he did a shitload of coke.”
“Are we talking about Haru Yagami? Oh yeah. Serious cokehead. That’s one kid who’s not going to have a septum when he’s 30.”
“Or a functional sphincter.”
“Oh, zing!”
He was the most pathetic, the most wretched person in the world. He couldn’t believe his behavior in front of Tom. He hadn’t even sworn to never do it again, because he knew he couldn’t keep a promise like that. All he’d done was cry and beg for help. As if. Who would want to help him after betrayal like that?
He fell back on his bed, where he and Tom had made love - no, face it, they’d just fucked - for the first time. Now he could never be with Tom again. Had he subconsciously sabotaged his first normal relationship just so he wouldn’t be torn between him and Near any longer? Was he really that selfish?
He knew what he had to do to forget about this. He had to get back to work. There was vengeance to be had tonight. He cut five thick lines of coke and did them all in a row. His nose burned like hell. He took off his jeans and t-shirt and pulled on his nearly-backless vinyl pants, his industrial boots, his blackest sheer top, his stiff fingerless bondage gloves. He streaked his naturally dark-rimmed eyes with crimson and teased his hair into a tangle of hell. Then in his fury he roundhouse kicked the wall a hundred times, until his foot felt vaguely numb. There was a charcoal-colored smudge on the wall where his boot had struck the exact same spot, over and over and over. At last he fell back on the ground, chest heaving.
It hit him all at once, finally, the sickness of this all. The sick, vile weakness of everything he’d done. The faces of hideous men taunted him. Faces and words and stenches. He was nothing but an empty whore, reckless, loveless and fatherless. He might as well be proud of himself. The boy who fucked the world. Fucking world. Fuck them all! He didn’t need them. He needed - what? Someone who would never have him now. There was only one thing left now, one lover who would take him in. New York. The night. The diamond jaws of Lady Cocaine. Call it what you will; he was at its merciless mercy. He was going dancing, dancing with death. He might even kill a man tonight. It felt right. His bones were boiling in their sockets. He hated himself so much that suicide was too kind an option to even consider. He would put himself through hell for this.
He opened the door and faced the night. The lights called to him in harsh electric voices.
~*~
Next chapter...