He tucked in the shirt and fished o

He tucked in the shirt and fished out a pair of black socks from the drawers and picked out a pair of polished black shoes. It was really pointless if one thought about it. The snow would probably ruin them regardless of how shiny they were. He picked out a black tie and without a mirror, fixed it with his experienced, expert hands then slipped on his vest and over that, the holster. Rather safe than sorry. He unhooked the hangers with the jacket and coat and tossed them on the bed. He didn't need them for now at least.

There was a knock on his door. Morning service he guessed but checked anyway, peering through the hole. A hotel employee was waiting with a tray. Ah, that's right. His breakfast.

Asami opened the door.

"Your breakfast, sir." Like I couldn't figure that one out. "Where would you like me to leave it?"

"On the table would be fine."

The employee did as he was told and added, "The papers you requested are also on the table."

You'd better hope they are.

"Enjoy the meal, sir."

When the door had closed, Asami glanced at the tray; no grapefruit. They always forgot the grapefruit somehow. And this was supposed to be a five-star hotel. What a joke. They probably didn't realize that missing some details could get you killed. At least in his world. Either that or go bankrupt.

Asami sat down to eat. It should have tasted superb, knowing the standards of the hotel, but it tasted dry and bitter in his mouth as if he were eating paper and cardboard boxes. He was tempted to just leave it but forced himself to swallow, one could not go without his supplements.

You're no child, Ryuichi, shut up and eat.

With his freehand, he shook open the newspaper. International Herald Tribune, The Times, Wall Street Journal to name a few, Asami flew through the stack, soaking in the day's news. If one couldn't keep up with the world, one fell behind.

With the breakfast finished and papers read, at least the relevant articles, he called up his men as he slipped on the jacket and coat.

"Good morning, sir."

"And to you, Kato." He replied dryly, "Is everyone ready?"

"Yes, sir. We're waiting at the end of the hallway, sir."

He flipped the phone off and walked around the bed to where the pillow was. Reaching under, he felt for the cold plastic and metal. The pistol was loaded, the safety in place so that it wouldn't accidentally go off. Nevertheless, it took Asami a split second to draw, unlock, and fire the weapon.

It slid in easily under his arm, as if it belonged there near its master and owner. He had grown accustomed to it, the subtle bulkiness. It was reassuring. Comforting. It had been nearly twenty years now since he first began this daily tradition.

It was good to have bodyguards, but self-protection was more than just a decoration. It was essential. Besides, he garnered more respect from his own men this way.

Asami clicked the cellphone into its belt compartment and slid his arms into the coat as he made his way out of the hotel room.

Warm…

Strong arms were wrapped around his naked body, curled around his chest and stomach. He could hear the deep, regular breathing, hot air blowing down his hair and neck with every exhale, followed with a tickling sensation.

He was growing too accustomed to this, waking up with another warm body in bed. And he was afraid of it, terrified that one day he might wake up and there would be nothing beside him. Carefully, he lifted Gyles' limp arm, holding the wrist with the tips of his fingers.

The exhibit was today.

Suddenly, the arms wrapped tighter around him, trapping him into the hot chest against his back.

"You…" Takaba looked back to see Gyles with a grin on his face. "I have to get ready."

"Stay in bed, Sei."

"But-" A gentle kiss melted the protest. When the kiss finally broke, Takaba pouted, "That's cheating."

Gyles' body shook with a chuckle, as his lips began moving down. Down the groove on his neck, to the nape, to the shoulders. "I never play fair."

"Gyles…It's morning…"

"Shhh…"

"Stop!" Takaba grabbed a pillow and wedged it between him and Gyles, snaking out of the embrace. He stuck out his tongue as he clamored out of bed, a bit sad to leave the warm spot. "I have to take a shower and get ready."

Gyles climbed out of bed, stretching his stiff body, "Make sure you dry your hair afterwards."

"I know." Takaba answered as he closed the bathroom door. There was a full length, floor to ceiling mirror on one wall of the bathroom, and he always avoided looking at it. He was afraid to meet eyes with that identical stranger he saw, copying his moves, mocking him endlessly for his cowardice, and so, he purposely averted his eyes, staring down at the tiles that felt icy on the soles of his feet. The sight of himself, the changes he saw, sickened him at times.

Who are you…

Quickly, to distract himself, Takaba stepped let the water run, not waiting for the temperature to adjust. Inhaling sharply as the cold water washed over his body, he waited for the water to warm gradually. His skin prickled when the hot water ran over the cold skin, steam and vapor quickly filling the bathroom, fogging the dreaded mirror, erasing the foreign and unrecognizable figure that he knew was his reflection. He was glad when he no longer had to see himself in his peripheral vision.

Gyles listened to the sound of the running shower as he rummaged through the closet, going through some of his shirts. His lover had been complacent enough to come of the past few days and sleep over for the nights. He had even gone to the doctor together to get his prescription filled out again, having spilled all the pills.

The doctor didn't say much, but the pity in his eyes for the young Asian man was clear and evident. The conversation had gone something like "Mr. Tanaka… do you need a psychiatrist? Because-"

At the mere suggestion, Takaba had stormed out of the office, fuming with indignation. How dare he? That's what must have cross his mind. Gyles apologized as he rushed out to follow his rather upset lover. The ride home had been…awful, for lack of a better word. Gyles replayed with episode in his mind with a sigh, fishing out a pinstripe suit from the rows of clothing.

What am I to do with you…