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Twenty Times

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The first time he saw him, was at another one of his father’s feasts. How could he forget? A well-shaped boy with nice physique, dark olive-brown hair and killer eyes! He remembers that the first time he met his gaze, not even a single breath left him! The older boy, was leaning against the wall by the assistance of his shoulder and held a tense staring contest with a settee. The half empty glass of wine was swinging in his hand and he did not seem eager to finish it. Something seemed to be deeply troubling this guest; his stiff frown and zoned out behavior gave him away. The suit he had on, beautifully covered his figure and the way it swayed around his curves, made it look like it was cut out for him from his very own shape, creating the view of a glorified prince. Satori was lost! In his own house, on the edge of the other boy’s presence, he was completely lost! He walked towards him persistently, and with his usual delight and enthusiasm, started talking to the boy, who did not seem most interested.


The second time he saw him, was at his father’s office. The boy who, based on Satori’s research, was named Wakatoshi, and his father, Mr. Ushijima, were there for the purposes of a business contract, recently signed between both men, and the younger boy’s presence in this meeting was important to Mr. Tendou; after all, he was his father’s only child and destined to learn his methods, choose his lifestyle and continue his path. During this time, the other boy’s long silent gazes, had taken focus away from Satori. Anyone who’d be exposed to those burning eagle-like eyes, would most likely lose sense. He never forgot the jump Wakatoshi was giving to his pulse and how it felt like when the strong scent of rosemary and just a hint of musk, hit his nose whilst passing by the prince.


The third time he saw him, it was three months later at a camp! A camp which the-now-best-buddies Mr. Ushijima and Tendou had set up for the two families to get to know each other better and hide away from usual inconveniences. This camp lasted for five days and during these days, the smell of rosemary had possessed Satori’s all other senses. On the final night of their stay, Wakatoshi visited the boy’s small cottage. Satori didn’t know the reason for this visit and Wakatoshi didn’t understand why this normally noisy and passionate boy, had turned so quiet and shy. As the night proceeded, the purpose of such meeting shone through the clouds; considering that Satori’s lips were undetectable from the other’s and Wakatoshi’s hands kept floating beneath the red head’s unbuttoned shirt, stroking the gentle skin of his chest. The forest was calm and the camp, silent.


The fourth time he saw him, was one week after that delightful camp. Wakatoshi, wearing only a slightly loose, buttoned grey shirt and dark silk trousers, had climbed up the boy’s window and shown up in his room, greatly welcomed by him. God knew how happy Satori was about the gesture. They stayed up late, the younger boy asked and the other answered or the current inverted. The things they learned about one another was sweeter than honey biscuits and more fascinating than anything they’ve ever read in books. With only two hours of sleep and at five thirty in the morning, the goodbye kiss was exchanged and Waka, left. The same way he came. Satori and the butterflies in his stomach, slept till noon! These graceful meetings and lovely sins kept going on for two weeks in a row.


The nineteenth time he saw him, he was climbing the window silently. He gladly kissed his cheek and sank into his arms. At midnight, Satori seated himself on the boy’s torso. He was mentally in a combat and it was not hidden from Wakatoshi’s sharp eyes. The boy spoke after a few moments. He couldn’t believe the things that rushed out of his mouth but they were things that needed to be said, it was better said than ignored and Satori went for the hail merry. Toshi, however, didn’t accept what he was saying. He got into a seating position and rest the boy’s head on his shoulder. With words, reeking of crude manliness and unshaped elegance, he soothed the boy, telling him everything would be just alright. That night, the older boy apologized from Satori and informed him that he can’t pay him night visits for a little while and promised that he’ll take the red head to Ushijima’s hunting cabin and spend a night there, just the two of them. Just thinking about it, made Satori shiver with excitement. He was full of love, rich of hope.


The last time he saw him, seven days had passed from their last meeting. He hadn’t heard from his lover ever since. The older boy was wearing the same suit he wore on their first encounter; now messily redesigned with raptures, bullet holes and a massive pool of fresh blood.

Satori was on his knees, in the middle of the Ushijima Residence, alone. He was alone, because from all of the occupants, there was only bodies left. Toshi’s cold lifeless figure, was resting peacefully in the boys arms and the rose buds on his vest were being generously watered with the red head’s tears. Silence flew in the air, competing with his broken breathing. There was no sound of sobbing leaving his mouth; Wakatoshi’s icy, blood-covered hand that was glued to Satori’s lips, simply stopped the noise. The lights were still shining for the dead masters of their home and the boy was on fire, mourning the dead resident of his heart.

With harsh movements of his lungs and sloppy tear-marked sentences, he reminded his most recent request to Toshi’s body a few times; to run away together. To run away from the life that belonged to neither of them, from the destiny that was made by none of them, from the vast shadow of death that had been with ‘em since the beginning of their lives and would take demonic action, sooner or later. But wakatoshi believed that everything would be just as the fate decides and had reassured the boy, with such a sincere belief, that things will be alright.

“But nothing is alright.” Satori’s blood-soaked clothes said, the breath that no longer left the boy’s favorite lips exclaimed, the red head’s withered soul screamed. But does anyone hear? In this Mansion of Perishment, no words, whether said or screamed, would be up to any use- It's over.

Hopefully, the same hope that shattered in them, the whisper of Wakatoshi’s blood merging into the heat of Satori’s chest, might be able to rise another dead star, in a sky far away from their’s.