Distorted Daytime, Ch. 2/4
Title: Distorted Daytime
Chapters: 2/3
Author: konicoffee
Genre: Psychological Drama (somewhat), Angst, Smut
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this story.
Warnings: Sex
Rating: NC-17
Pairings/Characters: Aoi/Reita
Synopsis: He was Distorted Daytime’s highest paid agent, the most expensive agent in the business. His client was a company executive. A powerful woman. The target: her husband. Akira Suzuki.
Comments: Requested by kapoha. I would like to thank everyone who read and commented on the first chapter. I was surprised at how much positive reaction I got. Thank you all so much. Here's the update. I hope you like it.
Chapters: { One }
"Good evening, Tokyo."
A young woman watched a crowd of people walk by her. She was amused at how they either rushed to catch the train at the nearby station, or how they hurriedly ran from the station to get home. But here she was totally relaxed; standing on a sidewalk with the only possession she had thought was worth anything. A cold breeze howled in her ear as she clutched her guitar. Taking a deep breath, she plucked at rusted strings and sang, just like she did every night.
You, who likes to be alone, and I, who can't get along with people
Isn't it strange, how all of a sudden, we've practically melted together?
A few blocks away from the train station, a pensive Akira lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling of his bedroom. He thought about the transfer student, Satou. That was his name. Aoi Satou. He was the only student in his class who correctly analyzed the value proposition of the company for this week's case study. Then he thought of the first class Satou attended. The first words he heard from the new student. The Threat of Substitutes.
He sighed at the velvet shadows that formed on the drywall. As if attempting to grasp these shadows, he raised one hand, the one with a platinum band around its ring finger.
Akira's eyes slid to the side, toward the figure of his sleeping wife beside him. The lamp on the bedside table beside his body filtered out some soft painted warm colors on her camisole-clad body. He gently rubbed her smooth arm as he quietly observed at how delicate she was while she slept.
He drew the sheets up and covered her exposed shoulder and back. And then he closed his eyes and drifted to sleep. He worked hard today.
This is the beginning of my last love song, or so I pray it will become.
Not so far away, Aoi slumped on his couch, listening to the quiet hum of the fluorescent light in his living room. With a lit cigarette in one hand, he entertained thoughts of his target. Akira Suzuki was, indeed, an interesting character. He was a gentle soul with a commanding presence in his lectures. He certainly was attractive, as by the second lecture, Aoi had noticed that some of the female students in his class were whispering about "how hot Dr. Suzuki is," and that "it's too bad he's married." By the third session, Akira had finally asked for Aoi's name, seemingly noticing that Aoi had been active during class discussion.
He smiled, wondering what it would be like if that were his real name. He wondered if he can keep living this lie for another month. And then he wondered if his smile right now was as empty as that of Akira's the first time they met.
How does his marriage look in his eyes? Aoi asked himself as he sucked the remaining warmth in his cigarette. Perhaps it really was too bad he was married. Then he wouldn't have to be another casualty of Aoi's work.
Aoi then reached for an ash tray and put the cigarette out. He exhaled a stream of light gray smoke, stood up, and walked towards his bedroom. Aoi decided not to stay up late tonight. He had work to do tomorrow.
What can I, who will someday fall, do for you, who will someday disappear?
What can I leave behind? What can I go on feeling?
"Satou?"
Aoi stopped jabbing the punching bag in front of him at the sound of his false surname. He looked to his side and found the person he was waiting for. Aoi quickly glanced at the wall clock and smiled; Akira's arrival was right on schedule. The teacher was wearing a T-shirt and tracksuit trousers. It had been the first time Aoi saw Akira in anything but corporate wear. "You train here, Satou?"
No, I don't. You do, Aoi answered in his head. He tried not to laugh at himself as he acted surprised. "Oh, hello, Sensei," he blurted out. "What a pleasant surprise."
He watched Akira do orthodox rounds on the punching bag beside his. The punches he threw were fast, compact, yet solid. The muscles that the teacher usually kept hidden under a dress shirt were now more visible as they flexed at every jab he threw at the bag.
"No wonder all the girls notice you," Aoi said out loud.
Akira chuckled as he continued punching away at the bag. "It's no wonder I don't notice," he said. "I'm married."
Aoi yet again pretended to be surprised. "Oh, really? That's neat. For how long already?" He already knew the answer to these questions of course, but he paid attention to Akira's response anyway.
"Two years," the blonde replied, not breaking the rhythm of the punches he was throwing.
Aoi resumed his workout while he continued watching Akira work his hands on the heavy bag. He listened to the teacher's quiet hissing before each loud thud that followed with every punch. "She's lucky," escaped Aoi's mouth.
A jab, another jab, and a left hook. "I'm glad you think so." A thud echoed in the gym as Akira's hand collided with the punching bag. "I really care about my wife."
Was that another empty smile just now?
Both men stayed quiet for several minutes, throwing liver blows and one-two punches at their striking bags. Only the dull sounds of leather colliding with boxing gloves resounded in the gym. Fourteen rounds of bag work later, Aoi spoke to Akira.
"Do you want to spar?"
All eyes were on the teacher and the agent as they marched to the boxing ring. Aoi could hear people mumble something along the lines of, "he challenged Suzuki? He's got balls." From what he observed, he knew that Akira was a strong man. But he needed to observe the target more. Aoi felt he was very close to finding out something else about the associate professor. Both men put on their headgear and tightened their gloves. Aoi kept his fists close to his chin. He had no intention to take the target down. At least, not in this ring.
Aoi blocked Akira's jab a split second after they heard the bell. He threw a jab to retaliate only to find himself hitting air. The agent cursed under his breath. The son of a bitch is fast. He quickly moved closer to Akira, the teacher's already fierce eyes looking even more ferocious behind a pair of boxing gloves. Aoi's left fist rocketed towards the teacher's jaw. He frowned as Akira blocked the hook and sent him a blow to his body.
Clean hit. Bastard. The agent quickly brushed the dull pain off and gave the target a fast combination of punches. Akira blocked Aoi's blows, but he found himself unable to get through the downpour of attacks and hit back. The teacher hardened his muscles, tightened his guard, and waited for an opening. The gym was silent, save for panting and hissing from the two fighters and low thuds as their gloves crashed against each other. Gym members crowded to watch Akira's impressive footwork and solid defense and Aoi's fast, sharp strikes.
Spectators gasped at the sight of Akira being pushed against the ropes. Aoi, however, stayed cautious. Akira was defending, but the agent calculated from the teacher's vicious, glaring eyes that the attacks didn't faze him. And he was proved right. Aoi gasped as a blur of blonde hair and flesh passed by him. Akira had dodged Aoi's hard left straight and quickly got himself away from the ropes.
They ended the spar three rounds later, both men panting as they removed their headgear. Aoi smiled at the teacher. "You're pretty good, Sir," he said.
Akira chuckled as he nudged Aoi's fist with his. "And you," the teacher replied. "You have no weaknesses."
The spectators merely shook their heads in disbelief. No one had ever tied with Suzuki before.
"How is the target responding?"
"I have his attention, but that's about it. As for whether or not he's eyeing me, I can't say for sure," Aoi replied as he angled his cue stick. The boss sighed. Aoi was right to ask for more than a week for this job. This is all Aoi had after three. The sound of the six-ball dropping into the corner pocket interrupted the boss's thoughts. "But I discovered something. I've finally figured out what the last two agents have been doing wrong."
The boss watched the white ball roll on the pool table to form a constellation with numbered, colored spheres. "I'm listening," he said.
Aoi cleared his throat, not looking away from the cue ball. "This target," the agent said. "He isn't someone you can seduce easily. Aside from being focused on his work, the man is very well-guarded, so it's near impossible to capture him by just being passive." Aoi thrust his cue stick at the ball and sent it rolling towards the dark red one near the left corner pocket.
Seven-ball pocketed. "What are you saying?"
"You don't attract him to you," Aoi retorted. "You pursue him."
The boss grinned as he watched the lamp that hung over the pool table flicker above the agent. He knew how Aoi operated; once he figured out how to attack, he was unstoppable. The boss arched his eyebrows as Aoi sent the cue ball rolling right into one of the pool table's pockets. Scratch.
"What's wrong?"
Aoi stood away from the table and looked at the boss. "Do I really have to do this?" The agent asked.
The boss scowled, for it had been the first time Aoi showed any form of hesitation to do a job. The brunette noticed his boss's exasperation, but he didn't withdraw his question.
"You're not feeling sympathy for the target now, are you?" The boss asked as he slanted his cue stick.
The agent closed his eyes as the air from the fan blew into his face. He thought about Akira's empty smile. Was he aware that his wife wants to leave him? Aoi wondered if the client was seeing someone else, and if she were, he wondered if the target knew about it. I really care about my wife. He said it like it was an apology.
The thud of the eight-ball depositing in a pocket brought Aoi back to the present, back to the question his boss asked. He mimicked the fan's swaying movement with his head. "No," he replied.
"Feeling sorry for him is not part of your job description," the boss said as he aimed his cue stick. "Your job is to destroy his relationship with his wife, regardless of the impact it brings to his heart..."
Strike at the cue ball. Nine-ball pocketed. "...or yours."
The usual crowd rushed to and from the train station. The street performer on the sidewalk near the train station wasn't there that night. The rain poured in sheets.
A few kilometers away, Aoi walked out of a boxing gym to find Akira standing on the sidewalk. The teacher's back was turned on him. Beads of rainwater dripped from the tips of his bleached hair. His clothes were completely drenched.
"Sensei?"
Aoi's voice prompted the teacher to turn around and face him. "Hello, Satou."
"What are you doing? You're gonna get sick doing that," the agent said as he grabbed Akira's shoulders and attempted to pull him inside the gym. But Akira didn't budge. "What's wrong, Sensei?"
Akira smiled the empty smile that plagued Aoi since he started this job. "Nothing's wrong, Satou," the blonde replied. "I am wrong."
"What are you...?"
"My wife loves me so much, Satou," the teacher choked. "Why can't I love her back?"
Aoi's mouth hung open. This was the first time a target confused him so. He clearly cared for his wife. Aoi knew for a fact that his wife is Distorted Daytime's client. He knew that Akira's wife wanted to end their marriage. What was the teacher talking about?
"My wife and I met at an omiai," Akira said. Aoi knew this already, but he listened. "I agreed to marry her because I thought I could teach myself to love her. I thought I could learn to love her like I loved...this man I met a few months before I met my wife."
The client's words from their first encounter echoed in Aoi's head. Do you think my husband is gay? Aoi considered the possibility, but after observing him, he didn't think it were the case. "This man," Akira uttered. "You remind me so much of him, Satou."
Aoi's eyes widened as he continued listening. "You talk and act the same way. You even box the same way," the teacher laughed sadly. "You have the same deep, haunting gaze." Aoi could only watch the teacher as the rain continued to pour on him. The drops pelting on Akira outlined the man in white against the dark night.
The agent had many questions to ask, but only one escaped his mouth. "What happened?"
"He broke my heart. Let's leave it at that," he said with his voice shaking. Aoi knew it wasn't from the cold. "I know my wife loves me. She always has. She's always wanted to have a family. And I know she's frustrated that I can't love her enough, even though I care about her."
"I never told anyone about my past. No one. I don't even know why I'm telling you, of..." Akira's trail of thought was put to a screeching halt at the sight of Aoi right beside him, getting soaked in the rain. Aoi looked heavenwards and closed his eyes. He prayed for the rain to wash away his sins; all those relationships he had ruined, and all those lies he had told. He prayed for it to cleanse him of his regrets and his guilt.
"I've done plenty of deceiving as well," crept out of Aoi's mouth. "So much that I've learned to believe my own lies. They're so intricate that many times, I get lost in them, and I have to find myself."
Do I really have to do this? Aoi asked himself many times. "You told me that I have no weaknesses, Sensei," the agent said. "But you're wrong."
Aoi looked at Akira and gave him a smile. "Satou..." Akira stared at the other man. Is he crying? He couldn't tell. The rain was pouring too hard.
"You are my weakness."
A/N: The song the street performer sings is "Last Love Song" by Garnet Crow. Credits for the translations go to Ryuichi.
Special thanks to roku_kitty and dqheartseq for reading the drafts, proofreading them, and giving me pointers. And thanks to shou_suke for giving me formatting tips. Thank you so much for your help!
Chapter 3
Chapters: 2/3
Author: konicoffee
Genre: Psychological Drama (somewhat), Angst, Smut
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this story.
Warnings: Sex
Rating: NC-17
Pairings/Characters: Aoi/Reita
Synopsis: He was Distorted Daytime’s highest paid agent, the most expensive agent in the business. His client was a company executive. A powerful woman. The target: her husband. Akira Suzuki.
Comments: Requested by kapoha. I would like to thank everyone who read and commented on the first chapter. I was surprised at how much positive reaction I got. Thank you all so much. Here's the update. I hope you like it.
Chapters: { One }
"Good evening, Tokyo."
A young woman watched a crowd of people walk by her. She was amused at how they either rushed to catch the train at the nearby station, or how they hurriedly ran from the station to get home. But here she was totally relaxed; standing on a sidewalk with the only possession she had thought was worth anything. A cold breeze howled in her ear as she clutched her guitar. Taking a deep breath, she plucked at rusted strings and sang, just like she did every night.
You, who likes to be alone, and I, who can't get along with people
Isn't it strange, how all of a sudden, we've practically melted together?
A few blocks away from the train station, a pensive Akira lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling of his bedroom. He thought about the transfer student, Satou. That was his name. Aoi Satou. He was the only student in his class who correctly analyzed the value proposition of the company for this week's case study. Then he thought of the first class Satou attended. The first words he heard from the new student. The Threat of Substitutes.
He sighed at the velvet shadows that formed on the drywall. As if attempting to grasp these shadows, he raised one hand, the one with a platinum band around its ring finger.
Akira's eyes slid to the side, toward the figure of his sleeping wife beside him. The lamp on the bedside table beside his body filtered out some soft painted warm colors on her camisole-clad body. He gently rubbed her smooth arm as he quietly observed at how delicate she was while she slept.
He drew the sheets up and covered her exposed shoulder and back. And then he closed his eyes and drifted to sleep. He worked hard today.
This is the beginning of my last love song, or so I pray it will become.
Not so far away, Aoi slumped on his couch, listening to the quiet hum of the fluorescent light in his living room. With a lit cigarette in one hand, he entertained thoughts of his target. Akira Suzuki was, indeed, an interesting character. He was a gentle soul with a commanding presence in his lectures. He certainly was attractive, as by the second lecture, Aoi had noticed that some of the female students in his class were whispering about "how hot Dr. Suzuki is," and that "it's too bad he's married." By the third session, Akira had finally asked for Aoi's name, seemingly noticing that Aoi had been active during class discussion.
He smiled, wondering what it would be like if that were his real name. He wondered if he can keep living this lie for another month. And then he wondered if his smile right now was as empty as that of Akira's the first time they met.
How does his marriage look in his eyes? Aoi asked himself as he sucked the remaining warmth in his cigarette. Perhaps it really was too bad he was married. Then he wouldn't have to be another casualty of Aoi's work.
Aoi then reached for an ash tray and put the cigarette out. He exhaled a stream of light gray smoke, stood up, and walked towards his bedroom. Aoi decided not to stay up late tonight. He had work to do tomorrow.
What can I, who will someday fall, do for you, who will someday disappear?
What can I leave behind? What can I go on feeling?
"Satou?"
Aoi stopped jabbing the punching bag in front of him at the sound of his false surname. He looked to his side and found the person he was waiting for. Aoi quickly glanced at the wall clock and smiled; Akira's arrival was right on schedule. The teacher was wearing a T-shirt and tracksuit trousers. It had been the first time Aoi saw Akira in anything but corporate wear. "You train here, Satou?"
No, I don't. You do, Aoi answered in his head. He tried not to laugh at himself as he acted surprised. "Oh, hello, Sensei," he blurted out. "What a pleasant surprise."
He watched Akira do orthodox rounds on the punching bag beside his. The punches he threw were fast, compact, yet solid. The muscles that the teacher usually kept hidden under a dress shirt were now more visible as they flexed at every jab he threw at the bag.
"No wonder all the girls notice you," Aoi said out loud.
Akira chuckled as he continued punching away at the bag. "It's no wonder I don't notice," he said. "I'm married."
Aoi yet again pretended to be surprised. "Oh, really? That's neat. For how long already?" He already knew the answer to these questions of course, but he paid attention to Akira's response anyway.
"Two years," the blonde replied, not breaking the rhythm of the punches he was throwing.
Aoi resumed his workout while he continued watching Akira work his hands on the heavy bag. He listened to the teacher's quiet hissing before each loud thud that followed with every punch. "She's lucky," escaped Aoi's mouth.
A jab, another jab, and a left hook. "I'm glad you think so." A thud echoed in the gym as Akira's hand collided with the punching bag. "I really care about my wife."
Was that another empty smile just now?
Both men stayed quiet for several minutes, throwing liver blows and one-two punches at their striking bags. Only the dull sounds of leather colliding with boxing gloves resounded in the gym. Fourteen rounds of bag work later, Aoi spoke to Akira.
"Do you want to spar?"
All eyes were on the teacher and the agent as they marched to the boxing ring. Aoi could hear people mumble something along the lines of, "he challenged Suzuki? He's got balls." From what he observed, he knew that Akira was a strong man. But he needed to observe the target more. Aoi felt he was very close to finding out something else about the associate professor. Both men put on their headgear and tightened their gloves. Aoi kept his fists close to his chin. He had no intention to take the target down. At least, not in this ring.
Aoi blocked Akira's jab a split second after they heard the bell. He threw a jab to retaliate only to find himself hitting air. The agent cursed under his breath. The son of a bitch is fast. He quickly moved closer to Akira, the teacher's already fierce eyes looking even more ferocious behind a pair of boxing gloves. Aoi's left fist rocketed towards the teacher's jaw. He frowned as Akira blocked the hook and sent him a blow to his body.
Clean hit. Bastard. The agent quickly brushed the dull pain off and gave the target a fast combination of punches. Akira blocked Aoi's blows, but he found himself unable to get through the downpour of attacks and hit back. The teacher hardened his muscles, tightened his guard, and waited for an opening. The gym was silent, save for panting and hissing from the two fighters and low thuds as their gloves crashed against each other. Gym members crowded to watch Akira's impressive footwork and solid defense and Aoi's fast, sharp strikes.
Spectators gasped at the sight of Akira being pushed against the ropes. Aoi, however, stayed cautious. Akira was defending, but the agent calculated from the teacher's vicious, glaring eyes that the attacks didn't faze him. And he was proved right. Aoi gasped as a blur of blonde hair and flesh passed by him. Akira had dodged Aoi's hard left straight and quickly got himself away from the ropes.
They ended the spar three rounds later, both men panting as they removed their headgear. Aoi smiled at the teacher. "You're pretty good, Sir," he said.
Akira chuckled as he nudged Aoi's fist with his. "And you," the teacher replied. "You have no weaknesses."
The spectators merely shook their heads in disbelief. No one had ever tied with Suzuki before.
"How is the target responding?"
"I have his attention, but that's about it. As for whether or not he's eyeing me, I can't say for sure," Aoi replied as he angled his cue stick. The boss sighed. Aoi was right to ask for more than a week for this job. This is all Aoi had after three. The sound of the six-ball dropping into the corner pocket interrupted the boss's thoughts. "But I discovered something. I've finally figured out what the last two agents have been doing wrong."
The boss watched the white ball roll on the pool table to form a constellation with numbered, colored spheres. "I'm listening," he said.
Aoi cleared his throat, not looking away from the cue ball. "This target," the agent said. "He isn't someone you can seduce easily. Aside from being focused on his work, the man is very well-guarded, so it's near impossible to capture him by just being passive." Aoi thrust his cue stick at the ball and sent it rolling towards the dark red one near the left corner pocket.
Seven-ball pocketed. "What are you saying?"
"You don't attract him to you," Aoi retorted. "You pursue him."
The boss grinned as he watched the lamp that hung over the pool table flicker above the agent. He knew how Aoi operated; once he figured out how to attack, he was unstoppable. The boss arched his eyebrows as Aoi sent the cue ball rolling right into one of the pool table's pockets. Scratch.
"What's wrong?"
Aoi stood away from the table and looked at the boss. "Do I really have to do this?" The agent asked.
The boss scowled, for it had been the first time Aoi showed any form of hesitation to do a job. The brunette noticed his boss's exasperation, but he didn't withdraw his question.
"You're not feeling sympathy for the target now, are you?" The boss asked as he slanted his cue stick.
The agent closed his eyes as the air from the fan blew into his face. He thought about Akira's empty smile. Was he aware that his wife wants to leave him? Aoi wondered if the client was seeing someone else, and if she were, he wondered if the target knew about it. I really care about my wife. He said it like it was an apology.
The thud of the eight-ball depositing in a pocket brought Aoi back to the present, back to the question his boss asked. He mimicked the fan's swaying movement with his head. "No," he replied.
"Feeling sorry for him is not part of your job description," the boss said as he aimed his cue stick. "Your job is to destroy his relationship with his wife, regardless of the impact it brings to his heart..."
Strike at the cue ball. Nine-ball pocketed. "...or yours."
The usual crowd rushed to and from the train station. The street performer on the sidewalk near the train station wasn't there that night. The rain poured in sheets.
A few kilometers away, Aoi walked out of a boxing gym to find Akira standing on the sidewalk. The teacher's back was turned on him. Beads of rainwater dripped from the tips of his bleached hair. His clothes were completely drenched.
"Sensei?"
Aoi's voice prompted the teacher to turn around and face him. "Hello, Satou."
"What are you doing? You're gonna get sick doing that," the agent said as he grabbed Akira's shoulders and attempted to pull him inside the gym. But Akira didn't budge. "What's wrong, Sensei?"
Akira smiled the empty smile that plagued Aoi since he started this job. "Nothing's wrong, Satou," the blonde replied. "I am wrong."
"What are you...?"
"My wife loves me so much, Satou," the teacher choked. "Why can't I love her back?"
Aoi's mouth hung open. This was the first time a target confused him so. He clearly cared for his wife. Aoi knew for a fact that his wife is Distorted Daytime's client. He knew that Akira's wife wanted to end their marriage. What was the teacher talking about?
"My wife and I met at an omiai," Akira said. Aoi knew this already, but he listened. "I agreed to marry her because I thought I could teach myself to love her. I thought I could learn to love her like I loved...this man I met a few months before I met my wife."
The client's words from their first encounter echoed in Aoi's head. Do you think my husband is gay? Aoi considered the possibility, but after observing him, he didn't think it were the case. "This man," Akira uttered. "You remind me so much of him, Satou."
Aoi's eyes widened as he continued listening. "You talk and act the same way. You even box the same way," the teacher laughed sadly. "You have the same deep, haunting gaze." Aoi could only watch the teacher as the rain continued to pour on him. The drops pelting on Akira outlined the man in white against the dark night.
The agent had many questions to ask, but only one escaped his mouth. "What happened?"
"He broke my heart. Let's leave it at that," he said with his voice shaking. Aoi knew it wasn't from the cold. "I know my wife loves me. She always has. She's always wanted to have a family. And I know she's frustrated that I can't love her enough, even though I care about her."
"I never told anyone about my past. No one. I don't even know why I'm telling you, of..." Akira's trail of thought was put to a screeching halt at the sight of Aoi right beside him, getting soaked in the rain. Aoi looked heavenwards and closed his eyes. He prayed for the rain to wash away his sins; all those relationships he had ruined, and all those lies he had told. He prayed for it to cleanse him of his regrets and his guilt.
"I've done plenty of deceiving as well," crept out of Aoi's mouth. "So much that I've learned to believe my own lies. They're so intricate that many times, I get lost in them, and I have to find myself."
Do I really have to do this? Aoi asked himself many times. "You told me that I have no weaknesses, Sensei," the agent said. "But you're wrong."
Aoi looked at Akira and gave him a smile. "Satou..." Akira stared at the other man. Is he crying? He couldn't tell. The rain was pouring too hard.
"You are my weakness."
A/N: The song the street performer sings is "Last Love Song" by Garnet Crow. Credits for the translations go to Ryuichi.
Special thanks to roku_kitty and dqheartseq for reading the drafts, proofreading them, and giving me pointers. And thanks to shou_suke for giving me formatting tips. Thank you so much for your help!
Chapter 3