Lacerations of the Heart [No longer active]

[Jiro Lawson]

The district in which they had entered was unfamiliar to Jiro. Well, not completely unfamilar, as he had passed through, but he had never been anywhere near any of the dwellings in this district. It was not far from his own home, but it was not close either, and the journey had been taken in mostly silence, as Jiro was not in the mood for talking right then.

He regarded the man beside him, however, with quiet interest, as he followed him into the large dwelling Jiro had only seen from the outside before. He had not been brave enough to smooth talk his way inside as his brother had done before when he pick pocketed. Although it made Jiro feel a little less awful that he was not going in here to steal from this man.

When Jiro walked into the home, he immediately felt completely and totally out of place. The house was meticulously clean, no surface didn't reflect his face back at him. The tall silver walls and leather furniture all set in exact places and appeared almost unreal made Jiro feel quite nervous. He felt like a bull in a china shop.

Automatically, he stepped out of his tall, clunky boots, and picked them up, already feeling sloppy enough in his too big cargo pants and white t-shirt that really belonged to his brother. Though taking off his boots did not make him feel any less like a street urchin, it brought him down three inches and to his normal height, that made him feel a little bit more secure. At least he didn't feel so intrusive.

His immediate thought was to go back outside on the street where he felt like he belonged in here, but instead, he just surveyed his new surroundings cautiously, afraid of touching anything.

[Alexander Mirit]

"Make yourself comfortable and don't worry about making the place a bit messy. I have hired help and they've been itching for a bit of work." He mumbled, striding past him. Removing his trench coat, he threw it over the arm of a random piece of furniture and began unbuttoning his shirt. The short scuffle left him feeling like the lowest form of slug slime. He didn't even want to begin considering the appearance of that boy. The same face of a ghostly brother whom had seemingly perished in the voracious flames of the Tsukiko Estate on Daethira.

"You want a drink or something?" He mumbled out, tearing down the carefully designed order of his hair with a single swipe of his hand. "You'll have to excuse my.. unadapted dealings with guests. I'm afraid I am not used to having company within my home."

[Jiro Lawson]

Jiro slowly laid his shoes on the floor near to the door in case the order of the home became too much for him and he had to make a quick escape. He shook his head in Mitsuru's general direction, watching as the older man threw his trench coat carelessly over a chair and unbuttoned his shirt, pulling his hair down in the process.

Jiro moved forward slightly, still feeling like the proverbial bull in the china shop. The home was different from any that Jiro had been in, but felt a lot less like a home than he was used to as well. It was slightly cold and collected. Much like the man that inhabited it. The image of clothes strewn about the perfectly set up room making a trail from the door to the bedroom brought a smirk to Jiro's face for some reason. He bit his lip and turned away from the other man to pretend to investigate to hide it.

Jiro's mind wandered back to the man in the alley that had spoken to Mitsuru while Jiro had still been coming to. He looked over his shoulder at the other man's back, observing the moving muscles in it, and, what appeared to be, the outlines of spikes along his backbone. Jiro blinked. He was seeing things.

"Who was that in the alley with you, Mitsuru?" Jiro asked quietly, afraid to hear his voice echo in this place, afraid that the other man would snarl that he leave, that he was already tired of Jiro and wanted to see him gone. "I heard him speak to you just as I woke up."

[Alexander Mirit]

"I don't know." He said quickly. A bit took quickly. The fingers working at the silver buttons of his shirt paused for a long moment, having returned to them after mulling with his hair. Jiro had heard their little conversation. It would be quite rude to leave him out of such matters, but far more dangerous to lure him into them. If Aiden was alive, which he surely could be, much blood would be spilt in means of the boy's revenge. His brother's revenge for the love and lives Alexander had taken. A cold, cruel smile drowned the thoughtful expression on his face.

Turning abruptly, he gazed down at Jiro, the last button dislodged, causing his shirt to fall open. It wasn't expected of someone his size and race but he could not deny the strength that lurked behind the muscled wall of his chest. Weak defense was a naturally bad trait in all of his kind, but that too could be conquered. He was only half Daethiran anyway.

"Good thing he dropped by though, ne?" He purred, listing forward, placing one large hand against the solid frame separating the foyer from the living room.

[Jiro Lawson]

Jiro turned to look at him blinking a few times in his direction, before swallowing and turning back around to once again to pretend to be investigating something his mind was not on. It was a little scary how Mitsuru could change from frightening to so completely alluring in the space of about two seconds. Jiro nodded a little, shoving his hands down into the pockets of his ripped jeans.

"Mn..." he muttered, finally turning back around and facing the other man, realizing just then how he had to look up to see him. With his big boots on he had not been that much shorter. Without them, he felt as if the man towered over him. He nodded again. "Hai," he said barely above a whisper, letting his eyes drop to the floor and his back lean against a wall, the embarrassment of being a street urchin pick pocket in the presence of an aristocrat returning.

But Jiro could not help but feel that the man standing in front of him was hiding something from him. Not that he owed Jiro a damn thing. But Jiro wondered if that man was more than Mitsuru was saying.

[Alexander Mirit]

"So, koibito..." He drawled, his smile dripping with lazy charm that seemed to come to Alexander quite naturally. If the boy was going to be around for a while, he was going to need to get some facts straight. He could hardly hide such a horrid past from Jiro. Despite his deceitful nature, it still didn't feel right. He could care less whether Jiro accepted him or not. It was something he had learned to live without for a long while.

"Let's have a chat. I bet you're dying to know all about me, ne?" He finished, his hand trailing down the length of his side, gripping the dragon hilt connected to his blade. Drawing the weapon from its sheath, he nudged the tip toward the leather couch that sat against the west wall of his home. Then, sparing not another thought on his armament and guest, he turned, walked to the ordinate stand and placed his sword upon it.

[Jiro Lawson]

Jiro bobbed his eyebrows at the man's back a little surprised by his sudden statement.

"Koibito? Wakarimashita..." Jiro muttered to himself, moving across to the couch and sliding down into it. He wondered breifly why Mitsuru would want to go into any information about himself in such a way. Jiro had never met anyone who was quite so blunt. Then again, Orange had never been open about anything, not really. In reality, he knew very little about his former girlfriend. Jiro shook his head. He wasn't going to think about her.

Crossing his legs and leaning back, hoping to relax a little, Jiro's eyes followed Mitsuru as he moved in front of him.

[Alexander Mirit]

"Right to the point then..?"

He didn't wait for an answer. He didn't expect or need one.

"As you can imagine, I'm not the same as you. In fact, I am very different. Where I am from, exactly, is of very little import, however.. if you stay around me long enough, you'll begin to notice certain things.

When I was younger, around the age of twelve, I lived with my parents and two brothers in an estate on my home world. We were anything but a normal, loving family. Takeshi and I were quite hated by my mother and father, whom fawned upon my youngest brother, Atsui, all their love and adoration. Typical jealous bouts began to consume both Takeshi and I. It got to the point where they didn't even blame us for his wrong doings. They ignored us.

So..." He paused, plopping down on the couch beside Jiro. The same chilling smile remained glued to his expression, rotting the sweetness with something spiteful.

"Takeshi seemed most torn when he threw dear mother out the window. He panicked, I plotted. Father wasn't going to be pleased when he arrived home, seeing his lovely wife's entrails smeared across the lawn. Such messy things. We knew who wouldn't be blamed. So, I made short work of Dad with the first thing I could find. I, too, was shocked and entranced by the fact that I couldn't stay my hand long after he had stopped breathing.

Then, a few more events transpired, Takeshi and I fled from the estate, leaving our memories behind in the flaming wreckage of our home." He drew in a breath, placing a hand over the misconstrued blue haze of one eye. Scars were haunting, whether they be emotional or physical. In his case, both.

"I am blind in one eye.." He forced out suddenly, gnawing at his bottom lip with a sharp set of canines. "..and I've been alone in this world since I separated from Takeshi upon arriving here. Tell me, what do you think, Jiro?" He inquired, remaining still.

I'll rip your heart out myself if you prove to be just like the others...

[Jiro Lawson]

Jiro looked down at his lap. Mitsuru's words were rolling slowly around in his mind, letting his brain soak up the words. He was thinking about it all. The murders of both Mitsuru's parents on his and his brothers' hands. The awful parents he had anyway. It wasn't exactly the kind of story Jiro had wanted to hear, but it made him want to be with Mitsuru that much more.

He let his eyes travel up the other man's form to where he had placed a hand over his eye. Blind in one. Jiro understood. His own brother had a bionic eye and could not see as he properly should. Jiro scanned every aspect of Mitsuru's face. Every line, every curve, every shape that transpired in the mystery of his past. Jiro imprinted that face on his memory. Imprinted everything he had just said on his memory. Because as god was his witness, no matter what happened, he wasn't going to forget any of it.

Jiro reached forward, taking Mitsuru's wrist and pulling it away from his eye. Leaning forward, placing his other hand on the other man's shoulder, he gently kissed the eye that had previously been covered by a hand that spelled simple shame. Jiro then slid his arms around Mitsuru's chest, and rested his head on the taller man's shoulder.

"That is what I think..." he whispered. Jiro did not need to know that Mitsuru had been a hero, or a killer, or anything. The past was exactly that, and Jiro was willing to accept it as such.

[Alexander Mirit]

It would have been mine in the long run anyway.

But such things were not in his past. Jiro could not fully comprehend the demons that continued to plague his one track mind. He was a monster and he enjoyed that occupation as surely any true killer did. However, words would not be the boy's undoing. He would make sure of that.

Strong hands cupped themselves against arm and waist, drawing Jiro closer against him.

"I suppose you haven't done anything like that. I had anticipated a bit more shock, but it seems I don't know you as well as I am going to. We have plenty of time to adapt. You'll soon understand why I can't let you go. Not now. Not ever, Ji-kun."

[Jiro Lawson]

Jiro couldn't help but want to be as close as humanly possible. He relaxed against the strong form of the man he sat with and buring his face into Mitsuru's neck, his smaller frame fitting together with the larger one as if it had always belonged.

Jiro did not truly know Mitsuru, that was true. Did not know much of anything about him. Accept that he cared for him far more than maybe Mitsuru had intended him to. But Jiro agree silently. Although he wasn't going to go into his racy, but slightly less violent past, he was glad that there would be time for it later.

Jiro unconsciously moved closer, even though he doubted that it was physically possible to be any closer, and knew he was almost certainly smothering Mitsuru by now. But the warmth of the man next to him, and the thought that he would not in fact ever let Jiro go, made him willing to accept anything Mitsuru had done, or would do.

"I don't ever want you to."

[Aiden Glen]

Aiden had decided that he had sufficiently licked his wounds from being completely thwarted by the Lawson Duo. Taro and Jiro. Oh, how those names brought such a foul taste in his mouth. Especially Jiro. That creature had been a thorn in his side for years. Aiden had had to give up on killing the boy the first time because of that damn brother of his.

But Aiden's mind had been consumed with nothing but that boy ever since his failed attempt the first time. He had to get rid of him. Jiro knew much too much about Aiden, could give a clear description of him, unlike any of his other victims who had not gotten the chance to see him. But Jiro. Jiro had seen too much, knew too much.

And now that he was no longer with those blasted brothers of his, Aiden knew exactly how he could get to him.

The man into whose apartment Jiro went looked so much more sophisticated than he. Aiden couldn't believe that the man was not paying Jiro to go there with him. And as Aiden remembered, the boy had gone for quite a rate. But he was worth it. Aiden laughed to himself as he slowly strolled by the high class building, gazing up at it and grinning. Jiro Lawson was up there, somewhere, with that tall man he had gone in with. Aiden did not think much of the man who had accompanied the boy. He did not look much of a threat.

Aiden knew that Jiro could not stay cooped up for long. He would come out sometime to get some air on his own. Aiden would wait until the time he did, anticipating when he would finally see the smear of Jiro's blood on his hands and face.

It was time for that boy to die.

[Alexander Mirit]

If only he knew what he was getting himself into.

Alexander watched him for the longest time, simply content to hold him in place, feeling as though he might not ever part from his company. He knew what he was doing was wrong, dragging this innocent, in some aspects, boy down with him to hell. He was the last thing Jiro needed but at this point in time, it was all Alex wanted.

"You will call me Alex. I'm afraid Mitsuru is a name of mine that has long since died with my parents and position as Earl." He said softly.

"And... as for my earlier ferocity toward you.. in the alley. I apologize. Contact is a sour subject with me."

[Jiro Lawson]

Jiro leaned back and observed the taller man in front of him for a few moments, not saying anything, but just using the senses he'd been given to observe for a moment. When he finished, he shook his head, and swung his legs off the couch, his heart still crying out for the contact they had had only moments ago.

"I am used to it," he said simply, looking down at his hands, then down at his feet, then up at the wall opposite to him. Everything in the house was so perfect, so in place. So much like Mit-Alex. Jiro had to correct his thinking.

A chill suddenly crept down Jiro's spine. He was not sure what it was, but he had the uncomfortable feeling that someone was watching him, watching the apartment. That someone was nearby who was out to cause either he or Alex harm. Glancing over his right shoulder and out the window, Jiro made his way over. He probably now looked like a madman wandering around as if he had no real reason for doing so. But he did. Half was to mull over what Alex had all just said half was to see out the window.

But when he reached the glass and looked down into the dark street, he saw nothing but shadows. For a moment, he stared at the echo of himself in the glass before turning back to Alex once again finding himself merely watching the elegant man. Even though he felt out of place here, he felt safe. Just because Alex was withing seeing distance, Jiro felt better. He chewed his bottom lip a moment before shivering a little bit. He bowed.

"Watashi no shazai wo ukeire nasai," he said quietly. "Please accept my apology," he repeated, keeping his eyes lowered as now he felt quite idiotic having pick pocketed in the first place.

[Alexander Mirit]

For the time being, Alexander was content to just watch the man - assess his curious stroll toward the window and his intent search for a source below. He hadn't had company over this long in years, let alone company that shared the knowledge of the terms of his parents' death. Jiro could storm from this room any minute, refusing to accept Alexander for what he really was and despite his earlier enthusiams, he wouldn't go after him. He realized long ago that he couldn't make anyone love or care for a monstrous accident such as himself.

His eyes left Jiro and sank down to the coffee table, which rested before him, his feet propped upon it neatly. "If you are uncomfortable staying here with me, you are free to go home."

[Jiro Lawson]

Jiro cocked his head at the man and inched forward slowly. It wasn't that he was exactly uncomfortable but Alex did have a certain air that made Jiro very submissive. It was ovbious Alex was used to being the dominant male. Yet somehow, that comforted Jiro. For a moment, he stood in place after taking a step, then took another one, and halted a foot or two away from the couch.

Jiro examined Alex's form. He was long, and catlike. It was the only way to describe him. Graceful, and cunning, and independant, and beautiful. Jiro watched him a moment, hoping to read something on his face, yet he saw nothing there. Jiro chewed his lip, wondering if he should say what he was thinking as a statement of a question. He decided a question.

"Do you want me to go?"

[Aiden Glen]

Aiden had seen Jiro's form materialize at the window, and had slid into the shadows, becoming part of them. He had observed as the boy had looked around on the sreet in which Aiden inhabited, looking for something. What was unknown to all but Jiro Lawson. Aiden grinned as he watched the slight form turn and disappear.

Jiro was just as Aiden remembered him being. Tiny and quiet. Experianced and easy. Aiden did not recall one other of his victims that had been as simple to dominate as Jiro. His body was so small, so delicate that no matter how he had struggled, it had not taken much for Aiden to simply hold him down. A few strikes of the face had been necessary as he remembered it. But Aiden also remembered how quickly Jiro had gone numb, tried to tune it out, tried to pretend it wasn't happening.

Seeing him again, and with a companion--the importance of whom had yet to be judged--made the hair on Aiden's neck prickle. As much as he hated the boy, he could not deny that he had actually and truly enjoyed owning his body. Owning every part of Jiro. And as he stalked him, he began to realize that no matter how much the Japanese boy wanted to forget, he never would.

Breifly, as he moved to continue down the street, to plan a little more, he wondered if Jiro's new companion knew of his past. Of the scar that graced the small of the boy's back. The pleasure it would bring Aiden if that man simply turned Jiro away when he did find out. He knew it was likely, and maybe even probable. He only hoped he could be there when Jiro was kicked out, and right into Aiden's waiting arms.