Title: Pressure
Pairing: K/Sakano and Tohma/Sakano
Summary: A dirty past is laid bare, a man's secrets brought into the open. The pressure is on and Sakano is going to have to make some tough choices. Tohma/Sakano and K/Sakano. Side of Yuki/Shuichi Warning: M/M
Rating: PG-13

Pressure
by R. M. Weiss (Uriel)
Chapter 1:
He flicked on the light to the living room of his small apartment from outside his door, having only opened it enough to slip his hand through and feel for the switch. Tie hanging loose about his neck, the black haired man let out a heavy sigh as he toed off his polished black shoes. At the age of twenty-nine, Sakano was starting to feel the heavy weight of responsibility taking its toll on him.

Coming home to an empty house was never easy lately. He would rather be at the studio now, maybe getting an energy drink from the vending machine down the hall from the recording studio, or getting another bouquet of flowers to put in Tohma’s office to lighten it up.

He knew the flowers really didn’t do much for the professional atmosphere in the room, but he liked to think that perhaps they brought the president some cheer. It wasn’t as if he didn’t pick flowers out at random. Every week on Monday morning Sakano would get up and head to the little florist shop not far from his apartment and purchase a carefully made-up bouquet that held a mass of flowers that held a type of meaning in the language of flowers. Last week he had brought in camellias. (1)

Heating up last nights leftovers, the producer watched the plastic container of food spin round-and-round on the plate inside the microwave, taking the time remaining for it to heat up to think. Today had been eventful, to say the least. Shuichi had come in late, though that was nothing new. Suguru had, as usual, ranted for twenty minutes about Shuichi’s “lack of dedication” to Bad Luck, the teen having finally snapped after going through a grueling week of mid-term testing at school. Sakano hadn’t known exactly what Hiro said when he came in the door to witness the spectacle, but it quickly quieted the keyboardist down to the point he was only silently fuming and muttering to himself while he went about starting up his synthesizer.

The peace had lasted until around noon. During their lunch break Hiro had excused himself only to be discovered a couple minutes later in the men’s bathroom leaning over the sink, suffering from food-poisoning.

Sakano thought that would have been the end of their day, but the guitar player had insisted he wanted to continue and with in twenty minutes was back in the studio. This hadn’t sat well with Shuichi, who refused to sing and insisted that Hiro go home and rest. Strangely enough Suguru agreed, and his confirmation of Shuichi’s orders set the guitarist off on a tangent of his own. The three musicians had bickered until Hiro had to run to the bathroom once more, which caused Shuichi and Suguru to argue over who would go check on him, the two of them trying to push and shove each other out of the way to get to Hiro first.

Sakano had been dragged into the spat when Suguru demanded that be allowed to go check on Hiroshi. Shuichi had gotten suspicious almost instantly, and had started nagging the younger teen on why he was so keen to be the one to get to Hiro first. When the keyboard-playing prodigy retorted with a sharp “mind your own business”, Shuichi seemed to fit the pieces together in his head and jumped on the grumpy teen, teasing him about having a crush on Hiro. That was all it had taken for Suguru to crumble and try and escape the room, which only prompted Shuichi to give him another good-natured teasing.

In the six hours they spent in the recording studio, nothing had gotten done, and by the end of the day, Sakano had been so exhausted from mediating between the three band mates and trying to get them to focus on either going home and resting for a day or at least doing a rough copy of a new single that he had nearly cried with joy when K had broken them up around four and sent everyone home, the American having come in late due to personal issues.

However, Sakano’s day hadn’t ended with the members of Bad Luck going home. He had stayed for another seven and a half-hours sorting out things that still needed to be done, as well as running errands for the president. When he left N-G Records his car had refused to start, and with his wallet left at home by accident he had been forced to trek four blocks in the pouring rain to find an ATM to get money for bus fare.

Letting out a heavy sigh, brown eyes closed wearily as he opened the microwave and took out his dinner, wincing at the heat that instantly burned his fingers. Dropping the container on the table, the producer found another thing to add to today’s list of Bad Events.

Stabbing at the warmed eel meat, he pushed it around the container. He wasn’t in much of a mood to eat. Lately his appetite was almost nonexistent. He had originally been a healthy one hundred and thirty-six pounds, but after two hard weeks at work attempting to help K whip Bad Luck into shape for an upcoming single release and TV show appearance he had dropped down to one hundred and twenty pounds, an unhealthy pallor to his skin making itself known.

Dumping the rest of his dinner in the trash, the black haired man shuffled off towards the shower. Shivering when the cool water hit his skin, he raked his hands through his hair, holding it back and out of his eyes, only to realize that for the fifth time this week he had forgotten to take his glasses off. Fumbling with the slippery frames he heaved another sigh as they clattered to the shower floor. Stooping down to grope around blindly for the lenses, the man yelped when he gave a start at the sound of his doorbell.

“C-Coming!” he called, quickly shutting the shower off and pulling his bathrobe, tying it tightly around his waist.

Still dripping wet from his shower, he winced each time the person at the door continued to hit the bell. He wasn’t sure how they had gotten into the building without him buzzing them in, and a knot of uneasiness settled in his stomach as he flipped the cover off the peephole in his door.

Outside, a blonde, gun-toting American rocked back on his heels as he waited patiently for the dark haired man to open the door.

Surprised to see the blurry outline of his co-worker, Sakano hurriedly undid the locks on his door and flung it open. ‘Did something happen to the president? Is Shuichi-kun missing? Has N-G burned to the ground because of that crazy woman with the giant panda?’ he thought with dawning horror as his mind played out the worst case scenarios. ”K-san, is everything alright?”

”Hm? What happened to you? Did you walk home in the rain?” the blond replied, brushing past the anxious other man and inviting himself inside.

”Sh-Shoes!” Sakano stuttered after a second.

”Oh...Right…”

Brushing his damn hair out of his eyes, Sakano squinted carefully at K, trying to read the other’s body language. If something had happened the American would have said so already. Wouldn’t he?

”K-san, why are you here? Is everyone alright? Did Nakano-kun get home okay?”

Slipping into a set of extra slippers left to the side, K took his time making sure his shoes were properly stowed away. “He’s fine. Shuichi called me an hour ago to let me know he’s not coming in tomorrow. He thinks a day off for everyone will do us all some good.”

Sakano slumped back against the door in relief. “O-Oh….but what about the single?”

”You got any sake around here?”

Opening his eyes, the producer quickly followed after the blond who had discovered his small kitchen. “It’s on the first shelf in the fridge…K-san, you didn’t answer my other question yet.”

The blond popped the cork on the sake bottle and set it on the table before rummaging around through cabinets looking for cups. “You know, you have everything in alphabetical order and grouped by color…”

”I know I do! Now will you please answer my question?” the Japanese man replied, instantly regretting snapping. It wasn’t like him to do so, but it was late and he was tired, and he still hadn’t finished his shower. “Did something ha—“

”She left me.”

”Come again?”

Picking up the sake and pouring himself a cup, K downed it in one long gulp. “My wife, Judy, she left me.”

”I’m sorry….” Sakano murmured.

Shrugging, K sniffed and poured himself another cup, “Don’t be. It’s not your fault. I’m sorry I barged in here. Didn’t mean to disrupt your night. I just….I couldn’t think of anyone who would even open the door. I guess I could have forced Shuichi to open the door but...well let’s say Yuki-san and I don’t get along so well.”

The producer politely averted his eyes when he noticed the American using the side of his hand to wipe away tears, trying to make it look like he was just itching the corners of his eyes.

“I shouldn’t keep you up. You have to meet Seguchi tomorrow. I’ll let myself out.”
Without thinking, Sakano reached out and gripped onto K’s shoulder, preventing him from leaving, “Seguchi-san is taking a personal day tomorrow….And we don’t have work.”

”Are you asking me to stay?”

Surprised by the bluntness of the tall man, the brunette cleared his throat and pulled his hand back, fiddling with his bathrobe and pulling it closed a bit more. “I….Well….It’s still raining.”

K’s lips quirked in a ghost of his usual smile, “You wouldn’t mind?”
Shaking his head, the producer rubbed the back of his neck, “No. It’s fine. I don’t get a lot of company.”

”Where can I sleep?”

”The couch pulls out…I’ll get you some blankets and pillows.”

Nodding, K put the sake back in the refrigerator and the cup in the sink. “Thanks.”
Sakano murmured a half-stuttered reply and waved the American off towards the couch in the living room. Quickly returning to the bathroom he turned the shower on and rushed through conditioning his hair and retrieving his glasses.

Pulling on plain button down top and drawstring pants he padded out to the closet across the hall and took out a set of neatly folded sheets and a pillow.
”Did you get it open?”

Looking up from the soft mattress he currently had buried his face in, K got to his feet. “I might have to steel this mattress from you.”

”It’s not that good. Seguchi-san told me the best mattresses these days are those foam kinds.” Tucking in the sheets, Sakano worked his way slowly around the pull-out.

”If you’re into feeling like you’re stuck in quicksand then I guess so.”

”The one sacho has isn’t like that.”

Raising an eyebrow, K sat back down on the now made bed, “Didn’t know you were into sleeping with the boss, Sakano.”

Instantly feeling his cheeks flush, the Japanese man stuttered and dropped the pillow he was carrying. “W-What!? N-No! No you’ve got it all wrong! Seguchi-san just had me come along when he went bed hopping—I mean bed shopping!”

The American gave the other a Cheshire-cat grin and stifled a laugh. “Easy, Mr. Producer, I’m just teasing you.”

Sakano picked up the pillow off the floor and handed it to K while he fought off the blush that colored his face. ”I know.”

”Then you didn’t need to get so flustered.”

”I’m just…tense, that’s all. The last two weeks….”

”Have been hell?”

”Yes.”

With a sigh K leaned back on his make-shift bed. “You could say that again….I think they were the final straw with Judy….”

”Final straw?”

Closing blue eyes, the blond tucked his arms under his head and let out a deep breath through his nose. “We’re both busy people. The last two weeks was it…she had to fly to LA, I had to work with Bad Luck...She said she couldn’t take it and she was leaving, I said fine. She packed her bags, grabbed Michael and left.”

”I understand.”

K’s eyes opened, “What?”

”My parents were looking for divorce when I was ten, I know what it’s like for a marriage to fall apart because I saw it happening,” Sakano replied with a small shrug of his shoulders. “I know it…it hurt them both badly. They had their reasons.”

”Did you forgive them?”

Turning to leave, Sakano shook his head slowly, ”I never got the chance. They both died three weeks into filing for divorce. A car crash…….it’s late, K-san. I’m going to go to bed. Please, make yourself at home.”

K nodded hesitantly, “Right….Thank you…..and, I’m sorry for your loss.”

Quickly striding to his room, Sakano closed the door quietly behind him and instantly went to his nightstand, digging through the top drawer until he found the right plastic prescription bottle. Popping the cap he quickly swallowed down two pills before chasing them down with another larger pill from a different bottle.
‘I shouldn’t have come right out and said all that…I don’t know him that well as it is…Oh well…I’ll talk to him tomorrow about it…’ The thin man slipped slowly under the covers of his bed and pulled a pillow close to his body. ‘Hopefully these pills will let me get a good night sleep…’

Squeezing the pillow in his arms a bit tighter, the man closed his tired eyes and let sleep take hold of his mind. For the sixth time this week, he forgot to take his glasses off.

TBC

___________________________________________

That's chapter one. Thanks for putting up with the really long post. Sorry for any typos. I've been editing it myself and I'm not the best at catching errors. Thanks for reading.

Reviews here should count towards my total too. D:<

Lol. Thanks for the post. Always looking out for number one eh sacho?

Looking out for number one?
No idea what you mean.
Hmph. =P

Of course you don't. :sarcasm:

Nah just kidding. :)

:sarcasm: :sarcasm: :sarcasm:

*ties knots in your hair*

:cry:Knots? No! It took me forever to brush it out. :cry:

*steals your pants right after that*

Thief! Thief! Pant thief!

Chapter 2:
Shifting restlessly under the unfamiliar sheets, K rolled slowly over to the edge of the bed. He didn’t know how long he had lain in the darkness of Sakano’s living room, but he assumed enough time had passed that the producer would be asleep by now. Getting up quietly he glanced in the direction of the Japanese man’s room before resting his full weight on the ground and standing.

He would not be able to sleep tonight. Too many things raced through his mind. Moving about the open room, K paused in front of a lone bookcase, fingers tracing the spines of books with titles he could barely read in the darkness. Moving his hands over the books he paused when he crouched down to feel the bottom shelf. There was a box.

’What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,’ the American thought, glancing over his shoulder once more towards where he assumed Sakano slept. Pulling the box off the shelf he carefully lowered it to the floor and pulled back the top.

Inside he could feel the edges of what he assumed to be a notebook. Picking it up, the blond moved away from the shadows of the bookcase and closer to the window on the far wall where moonlight streamed in through the drawn blinds. Able to see a little better now, the American found that he was holding a thick photo album.

Flipping back the heavy cover, K found himself looking down at an old picture a teenage boy with thick shoulder-length black hair and wide brown eyes. The boy was smiling, waving out at whatever audience he stood before as he gripped a microphone in his free hand.

‘Who is that?’ the American thought, peeling back the protective covering over the photo. Holding it up in the moonlight he turned it over and was only mildly surprised to see a neatly printed message across the back.

Took this right when you began.
You sang great tonight. I love you.
P.S. Meet me outside N-G tomorrow. I have a surprise for you.

The words earned a raised eyebrow from K. Turning the picture around again his eyes peered at the face of the boy holding the microphone, lingering briefly on the people who he now noticed were stationed behind him with instruments. Slowly understanding dawned on him, and K stared even harder at the picture. ‘Sakano...used to sing?’

The American hesitantly put the picture away. He wondered if Tohma knew that Sakano had once been a singer. ‘Maybe that’s how they met...’

A part of his mind nagged at him, the writing on the back of the picture stirring a long forgotten memory. Shaking his head as if to clear away his thoughts, K flipped to the next page of the album, instantly recognizing a young Tohma standing next to the same dark hair boy, who stood curled against the older teen’s side shyly waving at the camera, as if nervous or tense, his usual stance when in the presence of the president of N-G. This teen was more like the Sakano the manager knew.

’Seguchi didn’t write that note, I’ve seen his handwriting,’ K thought to himself, frowning as he looked down at the smiling teens. Going through a few more pages he began to notice another familiar face popping up. In every picture for the next four pages, Ryuichi Sakuma was present in some way, shape, or form, the most common being a teenage Ryuichi casually going about every day things. Pausing as another picture caught his eye; K removed it from behind the protective plastic and tilted it into the moonlight.

A sleepy –eyed teenage Sakano sat curled on a couch that looked identical to one K saw in the back of the recording studio Bad Luck used. However the couch was not the most interesting thing about this particular picture, but rather the other person occupying the couch with the black haired teenager. Ryuichi Sakuma, the pop star idol of many aspiring young musicians, was sitting with his arms thrown around the teen at his side. Not only was the legend holding tightly onto the young Sakano, but the look in eyes could only be described as possessive.

Part of his mind rebelled at the thoughts that suddenly flooded it. It was impossible. There was no way that the spastic producer and the legendary singer had known each other. ‘It’s impossible,’ K thought, now quickly searching the pages of the album, his disbelief growing larger and larger as more pictures began to pop up showing the two teens together.


‘Ryuichi is thirty-one. Nittle Grasper didn’t hit the big leagues their first gig…They could have known each other. If they both sang…they could have known each other.’

The American shoved the picture back into place and returned it to the box. He didn’t want to wrap his head around this just yet. He could not picture the jittery Sakano ever even holding a conversation with Ryuichi Sakuma. Logically he knew that people changed over the years and that Sakano may have once been someone entirely different. Maybe the producer once had a spine, passion, a life unshaped by the president of a major music company. Those were just maybes, and from experience, K knew that you could not be sure of the truth with just a ‘maybe’.

Getting up slowly from the floor, knees cracking as they unlocked, he fumbled in the darkness towards the only other occupied room. Pushing against the door, K eased it open silently and looked inside. On the bed he could see the outline of Sakano’s body along with the steady rise and fall of his chest. The thin man was holding his sheets up by his chin, his glasses askew on his face, digging up into his hair on one side while the other pressed against the corner of his eye.

It came in a sudden rush to K that he knew next to nothing about the man sleeping peacefully on the rumpled bed. Sakano was a mystery. For all the American knew, the producer could very well have been involved with Ryuichi.

Leaning heavily in the doorway, he took his time to really look at his co-worker. The stress of the past few weeks was clearly reflected in the sleeping face. Dark circles shadowed the area below Sakano’s eyes, and his cheeks looked sunken, along with the slope of his belly. The American knew on some level that he looked no better, in fact earlier this morning Shuichi had told him so when he had helped bring Hiro home. Shuichi had insisted on going along, wanting to make sure his friend was settled for the night.

He scratched the back of his neck slowly, blue eyes becoming unfocused. He could still hear Judy telling him that she was leaving. K hadn’t really been listening when she said it, slumped over their kitchen table half-asleep from being up most of the night before.

A sudden movement on the bed caused K to snap out of his thoughts. Sakano had rolled over onto his side, one hand now fisting the sheets, a frown turning down the corners of his lips. The Japanese man opened his mouth as if he was speaking though he was still asleep and let out a wordless sigh. He continued to move for the next few minutes, turning slowly or suddenly, the small frown on his face varying in degree of intensity.

K looked at the sleeping man for a long while before hesitantly walking over to the bed, his halting steps muffled by the thick carpet under his feet. Reaching out, he picked up the corner of the blanket covering Sakano and pulled it up from where it had been kicked off, resting it across the man’s shoulders.

K looked at the sleeping man for a long while before hesitantly walking over to the bed, his halting steps muffled by the thick carpet under his feet. Reaching out, he picked up the corner of the blanket covering Sakano and pulled it up from where it had been kicked off, resting it across the man’s shoulders.

The blonde pulled his hand back slowly and turned his back on the now calm sleeper. Tip-toeing from the room he settled himself back on the pulled out bed in the living room, pulling off his gun holster and shirt, letting them both fall down onto the stack of cushions from the couch at the bed’s edge.

He lay awake after getting comfortable, watching moonbeams dim as they fell through the slats in the blinds. He forced himself to stop thinking about Judy, about Michael, about work and the sleeping producer in the next room. It was none of his business what the man had done years ago, that Sakano seemed dead and buried, and the man who had let him into his house was anything but the smiling teen in the photos from the album. Feeling his eyelids grow heavy, the American let out a tired yawn and surrendered to the sleep his body had craved every night for the past few weeks.

In what felt like only the blink of an eye, K suddenly found the room well lit by the sunlight streaming through the now open blinds. He could tell it was morning, and from the smell drifting from the kitchen he knew Sakano was up.

With a heavy sigh the blond pulled himself up and sat in bed, rubbing his eyes slowly. ‘At this rate I’ll die of sleep deprivation,’ he thought, a bitter chuckle escaping his lips as he reached down over the side of the bed for his shirt. Pulling on the rumpled white button-down, he headed for the kitchen, leaning in the doorway for a moment as he watched Sakano stand in front of the stove poking as making miso soup.

”I’ll never understand why the Japanese have soup in the morning.”

Turning around, Sakano gave K an easy smile, “It’s what I’ve had every morning since I was a little boy. Miso soup, rice, and some rolled omelets.”

”And bento boxes for lunch?”

Turning back to the soup Sakano nodded. “Mother used to make me bento boxes all the time. She didn’t trust the people in the school cafeteria to make good meals.”

”My mom would give me a couple dollars and tell me to fend for myself,” K replied, sitting down at the table where he fiddled with the empty bowls and plat in front of him.

Sakano took the steaming soup off the stove and quickly retrieved K’s bowls. “Japanese breakfasts may seem odd to you, but American breakfasts are just as strange to me. Your people eat heated up things from your freezers. You stuff yourself sometimes and other times just drink coffee and go to work.”

”The stuffing is why Americans are so hardy,” the blond replied, pointing his spoon at Sakano as his soup was brought to him. “We eat lots of protein like ham and bacon in the morning. A couple eggs, some toast, a few sausages, maybe some hash browns and we’re set until late in the afternoon. Big breakfasts, little lunches, and left overs for dinner. That’s how it was in my house.”

”Leftovers?”

”Sure, you know, the stuff you heat up in the microwave because you had it last ni-“

”I know what left overs are. I was asking why you ate them for dinner.”

“My mom didn’t like cooking so she just made a lot of food and served the left overs for dinner the next night.”

Taking his seat, Sakano reach for his soup and carefully sipped at it once it cooled a little. A comfortable silence fell over the kitchen, the soft clink of chopsticks against bowls occasionally breathing some life into the still air. Sakano found that he enjoyed having a guest. He couldn’t remember the last time he had actually wanted to get up in the morning and cook. Everyday going to work he only drank a cup of coffee before walking out the door in the morning; an actual meal was nice for once, even though his cooking skills were few and none that impressive. ‘I should invest in a cook-book.’

“Thinking about something?”

Dropping his chopsticks into his rice, Sakano snapped out of his thoughts. “No, not really.”

”Not even about Ryuichi?”

”Ryuichi?” frowning, the black haired man gingerly picked up his chopsticks again.
Sighing, K leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest, “You know, the singer? World famous music-genius who-“

”I know who Sakuma-san is, K-san. Why did you ask if I was thinking about him?”
The American nodded in the direction of the living room. Azure eyes fixed on the producer sitting across from him and K felt the strong urge to let the other know of his discovery. He wanted answers; he wanted to know why such a detail had been left out of the files given to him when he had taken on the job of being the star’s manager.

Some things were best left buried though, and the blond chose to shrug and poke at his rice, “No reason.”

Still confused, Sakano let the subject drop, resuming looking at his food as he ate. For a brief moment he had felt the old panic come back. It had been years since he had felt his heart rate surge like that while his mind grasped for straws. Even though he tended to go off the deep end every day, nothing compared to the feelings that rushed through him along with the shots of adrenaline that kept him shell-shocked afterwards. ‘That was too close,’ the producer thought, bowing his head, ‘Why would he ask something like that? Did sacho…? No, sacho wouldn’t. He’s not that cruel…’

Sakano was relieved when the phone rang and broke the heavy silence. Scraping his chair back across the floor he hurried into the living room, murmuring a half-stuttered ‘excuse me’. Pressing the talk button he brought the phone up to his ear without thinking, murmuring a raspy hello as he fought down his nerves.
K watched from the open kitchen for a minute before turning back to his food. Getting up he threw away what he hadn’t eaten. ‘Damn, I didn’t mean to say that. I didn’t…does he know I looked at that album? Is he angry?’ Glancing at Sakano out of the corner of his eye, the American took his seat again and whipped out his magnum, checking how many bullets he had left in it.

K looked up again when he heard the click of the phone in the cradle. He could tell that the slim producer was tense, the way he got when Tohma called him in for a meeting. Frowning slightly, the blond replaced his gun in its holster, getting up and cautiously entering the living room. “Hey,” he called softly, “You okay, Mr. Producer?”

Snapping out of his daze, Sakano jumped and turned, putting on a nervous smile, “Oh, I’m fine. I’m sorry K-san, Seguchi-san just wanted to meet me in a few minutes. Please make yourself at home, I’ll be back soon. You can use the shower and the television has plenty of channels for you to go through.” As he talked, Sakano was hurrying to his room, quickly changing into one of his more formal business suits, the coal grey jacket hanging a little awkwardly on his body from his rapid weight loss.

All the while K stood in the empty main room listening to the Japanese man rattle on about the things K could do while he was gone. The manager barely had time to say goodbye as Sakano rushed out, still fixing his tie around his neck as the door slammed shut behind him.

Surprised by the sudden exit, K found himself listening to the ticking of the clock in the kitchen, straining his ears to hear it just so he could be doing something. Shrugging his shoulders as if to remove a weight from them he took his time to look around the apartment now that it was light outside and he wasn’t under the influence of strong sake.

Everything was organized.

Nothing was out of place; every book on the shelf lined up alphabetically and by height, the television had wipe marks running across it horizontally, never vertically. The sparsely decorated walls all held pictures the same size and arranged so that they all sat at the same height.

There was no personality to the room. It was like looking into a department store showcase, there was no life to the space. Walking along the edges of the room, K took in every detail from every angle and found that he couldn’t pick up any sign that this place belonged to someone, that it was lived in.

‘His address hasn’t changed in years. It should look like someone has been living here.’ Turning away from the living room the blond strode down the hall, pushing open the door to the black haired man’s room and stepping in.

It was the same as the living room. Everything was in order except for the bed, which was still rumpled from Sakano’s late night tossing and turning. Raising an eyebrow at the strange emptiness that permeated from the walls he reached for Sakano’s nightstand, pulling open the drawer.

”Yatzee.” Inside the simple wooden nightstand drawer lay a treasure trove of little knick knacks that finally gave a hint as to who Sakano was. There was a deck of playing cards thrown in the corner, held together by a rubber band, a few scattered pens and pencils, and a variety of books completely different than the ones he had seen out in the living room.

Picking up one of the paperbacks he thumbed through it, pausing at a dog eared page and reading some of the text before closing the book slowly and letting out a soft whistle. He had never taken the spastic younger man to be the type to read porn, let alone gay porn. Tossing the book on the bed he continued to sift through the other novels tucked away in the nightstand, surprise growing by the minute as he found almost all of them were romance novels. The one buried at the very bottom stuck out the most for him though, and with hesitant hands he picked up the blue covered book. Opening to the front cover he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

In his hands, K was held an item many women would kill for, a signed book by Japan’s famous romance novelist, Eiri Yuki. Not only that, but under the aloof author’s signature was the familiar scrawl of Shuichi Shindou’s handwriting.

‘Hey Sakano-san, I hope you like your present! I thought you might like an easy read to go through so I got you Yuki’s newest book. Look I even got him to sign it! I’ll see you at work on Monday. Try not to party too hard!’

“I’ll be damned,” the blond said, closing the book. “I didn’t know you two were that close.” Putting everything back the way he had found it, the American deciding he would take Sakano up on the ‘shower-offer’. He needed time to think about the few bits and pieces of information of what he had found, and a shower was the only thing he knew that would help him clear his head and organize his thoughts.

T.B.C.

Arharhar.
The pant thief has struck.

You're actually a shirt thief now since I have pants.

edit: I now have a shirt too....you an be a shoes thief.