He'd been out on the terrace for ov

He'd been out on the terrace for over an hour, one hip against the rail as he surveyed the brilliantly lit city below him. His steaming tea, poured into a ridiculously shaped mug, had long cooled and sat on the ledge next to him like a tiny, squat gargoyle. He'd said that everything was fine, that he just needed some air.

People say that when they feel trapped, stifled, when they desperately need to breathe, don't they? They say it when they need to break free. But he wouldn't. He couldn't. Not after everything they'd been through. Such a notion was simply unthinkable.

Their argument, if you could really even call it that, hadn't been that bad, certainly not one of their worst. It was more of a...talk. A resigned, quiet heart-wrenching kind of talk that sneaks up so swiftly there isn't any defense.

And now, he was out there all alone, thinking God knows what kinds of thoughts, and not looking like himself at all. His shoulders seemed to slump, and he was so still, as if the cold night air had turned him into stone too.

His own body felt cold too, hollowed out by the gnawing anxiety of the past hour. How could things change so quickly?

***

"So all the...loose ends...have been taken care of?" Akihito asked.

A faint smile lifted the corners of Asami's mouth for a moment, as if to mock Akihito's careful euphemisms, but it slipped away quickly enough. He inclined his head once. "Yes. Kuroda dealt with the matters on his end. The void Kouyama left has been filled, as satisfactorily as it can be when one is dealing with politicians."

Akihito snorted, conveying his agreement with that sentiment, at least.

"And what about..." Akihito trailed off as Asami's gaze hardened.

"There will be no fallout from how we dealt with the situation. Arbatov has no desire to escalate matters over a rogue, particularly for one he has little love."

Akihito swallowed the sudden lump that developed in his throat. He still didn't like thinking about what had happened. It wasn't guilt, precisely, that made it so difficult, because he could admit that when it came down to their lives against someone like that man's, then he wasn't going to kick himself over choosing them. And it wasn't trauma, though there'd been plenty of that to deal with too. Whatever had happened, whatever responsibility he bore on his own shoulders, it wasn't an easy thing to accept. He'd killed a man. Not in cold blood, it was true, not for revenge. He didn't take pleasure in it. But...there was blood on his hands. He was...would always be...a killer.

A flash of Asami down on one knee, crimson on his white shirt, handsome face twisted in pain, made Akihito convulse, a tiny jerk of his hands.

But he wasn't sorry. Oh no, not at all. A spurt of adrenaline ate its way up from his stomach to his chest and settled there in an unpleasant burn. He had promised himself he would watch Asami's back, and he had, just like Asami had always watched his.

"You're thinking about it again." Asami's intense voice startled him. The man was right up in his personal space in the blink of an eye, and Akihito looked away. Asami jerked his chin back to face him.

Akihito's eyed flash. "Well, yeah. We were just talking about it, weren't we?"

"You know what I mean." Asami sounded livid. Just like when Akihito had first made an off-hand comment in the confused few hours after it had happened. His lost, wounded voice had sounded strange even to himself as he'd called himself that. It sent Asami into a cold fury that he'd only expressed by hissing that Akihito was never ever to say that again and then crushing him up against the wall, sore and bloody as they were, and kissing him until their lips bled too.

"I'm not," Akihito lied, searching for an acceptable placebo. His mind immediately lit on Sakazaki but skittered away even more quickly. "What about Sudou?"

Asami wasn't really fooled, but he backed off a little, and his faint smirk returned. "He won't bother you ever again either."

"What did you say to him?" Akihito figured he already knew, but if even Asami was going to tease him about being jealous again, he wanted confirmation.

Looking happier by the minute, Asami loosened his tie and shrugged out of his jacket. "I recommended a good plastic surgeon. Even with the swelling down, his nose..." Asami shook his head. "How's your hand?"

"Shut up. Seriously, tell me," Akihito insisted.

"You know very well what I told him. I made it quite clear to him how lucky he is that I'm letting him leave Tokyo, and with the ability to breathe, much less still make something of himself. Well, if he gets his nose fixed," Asami added, just to tweak Akihito again.

"Whatever. I don't care." He turned away. "I wasn't jealous like you think." They both knew that statement was a colossal lie, but Asami was satisfied to press up against his back and start letting his hands roam around Akihito's chest and stomach.

"Of course not," Asami murmured.

"You're the one who acts jealous all the time! Threatening to cage me up! Too wipe out anyone who--" Akihito froze, and Asami's hands stilled. Fuck. Why did his words always run away with him?

After a moment, Asami's hands removed themselves from Akihito's body. Akihito turned around to face him, but Asami was laying his tie over a chair. "Did you make dinner?" Asami asked mildly. "Or do you want to order something?"

"A-Asami..." Akihito faltered. "You...are you still angry...about...about what I--"

Oh, God. How did the man always manage to move so fast? When they stood this close, Akihito's neck had to strain to look up at him.

"Yes, Akihito. I'm angry. I'm very angry that you felt like you had to do that, that you actually somehow convinced yourself that I would want you to put yourself in that position, that I would want you to go to that filth for anything. And that you didn't tell me for so long. If that worthless piece of shit was still alive, I'd take great pleasure again in--"

"Asami! I didn't! I didn't think that, but I wanted to help you. I wanted to prove..."

"Prove what?" Asami asked and the anger in his voice was tempered by a tiredness that made Akihito much more anxious than before. "What do you need to prove to me? Or is it that I need to prove something to you?"

"I...I don't know what you mean," Akihito whispered.

Asami stared into Akihito's anxious gaze for a long moment, then sighed. "We've been through this before. I told you that it changes nothing between us."

"I know..." Akihito's forlorn expression seemed to increase the fatigue in Asami's expression.

"Don't worry about it," he said, a bit more softly, giving Akihito's hair a brief caress and heading into the kitchen.

Akihito followed Asami, watching him turn the electric kettle on to boil. They stood in silence for the full minute it took. Asami poured the tea into a mug shaped like a squat green frog and silently offered it to Akihito. Akihito shook his head.

"Asami..." he tried again. "I am sorry. I really didn't--"

"I know, Akihito. Shh, I know. I've been witness to your reckless thought processes too many times not to understand. And I know you wanted to help me. I bear much of the responsibility for this. I should never have allowed you to be involved, knowing how dangerous the situation was."

Akihito is torn between sorrow that Asami was trying to absolve him of much of his guilt and between anger that Asami still seemed to be dismissing him and wanting to control him. Deep down, he knew that regardless of how disgusting Akihito himself had found his actions, they still hurt Asami. But because that thought scared him deeply, Akihito reverted to form and let his vulnerabilities and anger lash out.

"How many times do I have to tell you that I'm a grown man?" he cried. "You talk about allowing this or that, but you can't do that! You can't lock me up forever! Why? Why do you even want me here?"

Asami's eyes narrowed, and Akihito felt that familiar jolt. Everything was going to be all right. This was how they were. This was how they always were. Asami was going to get pissed off, and then they would have sex, and Akihito would get over his conflicted emotions and be able to admit for a little while that he wanted to be right here where he was.

But that's not what happened.

Asami half turned away, and his head lowered. "You're right. You are, and I can't."

Akihito's jaw dropped open. "Huh?"

"I'm a man of few words. Perhaps too few." He coughed out a dark laugh. "Actions speak louder than words, the saying goes. But I always prided myself on meaning exactly what I did bother to say and expressing myself with crystal clarity with or without words. It seems I've failed on both counts."

"What are you talking about?" Akihito asked, hating the plaintive sound of his own voice.

Asami raised his head, and Akihito was again struck by the fatigue he could see at the corner of Asami's eyes and in the lines of his mouth. He'd never looked more human, not even when he was bleeding on the ground at Akihito's feet. The almost gentle expression in his eyes terrified Akihito, the vulnerability it suggested too staggering to process.

"There's nothing for it, then. I'll have to go back on my word." With one hand he picked up his mug. "Perhaps we've already been to the ends of the abyss anyway. So from here...choose your own path."

Akihito went completely cold inside, so cold it made his hands tremble as they stretched toward Asami and hovered like disoriented moths in the air. "Are...are you finally kicking me out?"

Asami's expression flickered. Pain? Sorrow? But then he smiled, not a smirk, just a small, resigned, self-deprecating, yet strangely tender smile. "That will never happen."

With that, he turned and left the kitchen drawing a speechless Akihito in his wake. He stopped as he opened the sliding door to the terrace. "I won't stop you. Whatever you choose."

"Wait..." Akihito whispered. "Just wait a second..."

And Asami did, paused on the threshold, his b

Kết quả (Việt) 1:

Ông đã ra trên sân thượng cho hơn một giờ, một hông chống lại đường sắt như ông khảo sát thành phố rực rỡ ánh sáng dưới anh ta. Trà hoạt động của mình, đổ vào một cốc ridiculously hình, lâu có làm mát bằng nước và ngồi trên lồi ra bên cạnh anh ta như một gargoyle nhỏ, ngồi xổm. Ông đã nói rằng tất cả mọi thứ là tốt, rằng ông chỉ cần chút không khí.Người ta nói rằng khi họ cảm thấy bị mắc kẹt, stifled, khi họ tuyệt vọng cần phải hít thở, họ không? Họ nói nó khi họ cần phải phá vỡ miễn phí. Nhưng ông sẽ không. Ông không thể. Không phải sau khi tất cả mọi thứ họ đã có thông qua. Một khái niệm là chỉ đơn giản là không thể tưởng tượng. Lý luận của họ, nếu bạn thực sự thậm chí có thể gọi nó rằng, đã không những gì xấu, chắc chắn không phải là một trong tồi tệ nhất của họ. Nó đã là nhiều hơn a...talk. Một từ chức, yên tĩnh trái tim-wrenching loại nói rằng lén lên nhanh chóng vì vậy không có bất kỳ quốc phòng.Và bây giờ, ông đã là ra khỏi đó suy nghĩ tất cả một mình, Thiên Chúa biết những gì loại suy nghĩ, và không phải tìm kiếm thích mình ở tất cả. Vai của ông dường như sụt giảm, và ông là như vậy vẫn còn, như nếu không khí đêm lạnh đã biến anh ta thành đá quá.Cơ thể của mình cảm thấy lạnh quá, rỗng bởi những lo âu gnawing của giờ qua. Làm thế nào có thể những thứ thay đổi quá nhanh?***"Vì vậy tất cả các... rỗi... đã được thực hiện chăm sóc của?" Akihito hỏi.Một nụ cười mờ nhạt dỡ bỏ các góc của miệng của Asami cho một thời điểm, như thể để thử Akihito của cẩn thận euphemisms, nhưng nó trượt đi đủ nhanh. Ông nghiêng đầu của mình một lần. "Có. Kuroda xử lý các vấn đề trên kết thúc của ông. Khoảng trống Kouyama trái đã được lấp đầy, đáp ứng yêu cầu như nó có thể khi một là đối phó với các chính trị gia."Akihito snorted, conveying his agreement with that sentiment, at least."And what about..." Akihito trailed off as Asami's gaze hardened."There will be no fallout from how we dealt with the situation. Arbatov has no desire to escalate matters over a rogue, particularly for one he has little love."Akihito swallowed the sudden lump that developed in his throat. He still didn't like thinking about what had happened. It wasn't guilt, precisely, that made it so difficult, because he could admit that when it came down to their lives against someone like that man's, then he wasn't going to kick himself over choosing them. And it wasn't trauma, though there'd been plenty of that to deal with too. Whatever had happened, whatever responsibility he bore on his own shoulders, it wasn't an easy thing to accept. He'd killed a man. Not in cold blood, it was true, not for revenge. He didn't take pleasure in it. But...there was blood on his hands. He was...would always be...a killer. A flash of Asami down on one knee, crimson on his white shirt, handsome face twisted in pain, made Akihito convulse, a tiny jerk of his hands.But he wasn't sorry. Oh no, not at all. A spurt of adrenaline ate its way up from his stomach to his chest and settled there in an unpleasant burn. He had promised himself he would watch Asami's back, and he had, just like Asami had always watched his. "You're thinking about it again." Asami's intense voice startled him. The man was right up in his personal space in the blink of an eye, and Akihito looked away. Asami jerked his chin back to face him.Akihito's eyed flash. "Well, yeah. We were just talking about it, weren't we?""You know what I mean." Asami sounded livid. Just like when Akihito had first made an off-hand comment in the confused few hours after it had happened. His lost, wounded voice had sounded strange even to himself as he'd called himself that. It sent Asami into a cold fury that he'd only expressed by hissing that Akihito was never ever to say that again and then crushing him up against the wall, sore and bloody as they were, and kissing him until their lips bled too."I'm not," Akihito lied, searching for an acceptable placebo. His mind immediately lit on Sakazaki but skittered away even more quickly. "What about Sudou?"Asami wasn't really fooled, but he backed off a little, and his faint smirk returned. "He won't bother you ever again either.""What did you say to him?" Akihito figured he already knew, but if even Asami was going to tease him about being jealous again, he wanted confirmation. Looking happier by the minute, Asami loosened his tie and shrugged out of his jacket. "I recommended a good plastic surgeon. Even with the swelling down, his nose..." Asami shook his head. "How's your hand?""Shut up. Seriously, tell me," Akihito insisted."You know very well what I told him. I made it quite clear to him how lucky he is that I'm letting him leave Tokyo, and with the ability to breathe, much less still make something of himself. Well, if he gets his nose fixed," Asami added, just to tweak Akihito again."Bất cứ điều gì. Tôi không quan tâm." Ông quay lưng. "Tôi không ghen tuông, như bạn nghĩ." Họ đều biết rằng tuyên bố là một lời nói dối khổng lồ, nhưng Asami được hài lòng để nhấn lên chống lại trở lại của mình và bắt đầu để cho bàn tay của mình đi lang thang xung quanh thành phố Akihito của ngực và dạ dày. "Tất nhiên không," Asami murmured."Bạn là một trong những người hoạt động ghen tuông tất cả thời gian! Đe dọa để lồng tôi lên! Quá lau ra bất cứ ai người--"Akihito đã đóng băng, và bàn tay của Asami ngừng. Chết tiệt. Tại sao đã nói cách của mình luôn luôn đi với anh ta?Sau một thời điểm, Asami của tay gỡ bỏ bản thân từ Akihito của cơ thể. Akihito quay lại để đối mặt với anh ta, nhưng Asami đã lắp đặt tie của mình trên một chiếc ghế. "Bạn đã làm cho bữa ăn tối?" Asami hỏi nhẹ. "Hoặc bạn có muốn đặt hàng một cái gì đó?""A-Asami..." Akihito lự. "Bạn... là bạn vẫn còn tức giận... về... về những gì tôi..."Ôi, Chúa. Làm thế nào đã làm người đàn ông luôn luôn quản lý để di chuyển quá nhanh? Khi họ đứng gần, Akihito của cổ phải căng để nhìn vào anh ta."Vâng, Akihito. Tôi đang tức giận. Tôi rất tức giận mà bạn cảm thấy như bạn đã có để làm điều đó, rằng bạn thực sự bằng cách nào đó thuyết phục bản thân bạn mà tôi muốn bạn để đặt mình ở vị trí đó, rằng tôi sẽ muốn bạn để đi đến rác rưởi đó cho bất cứ điều gì. Và rằng bạn đã không nói với tôi để quá lâu. Nếu vô giá trị mảnh shit là vẫn còn sống, tôi sẽ có niềm vui lớn một lần nữa tại--""Asami! Tôi đã không! Tôi không nghĩ rằng, nhưng tôi muốn giúp bạn. Tôi muốn chứng minh...""Prove what?" Asami asked and the anger in his voice was tempered by a tiredness that made Akihito much more anxious than before. "What do you need to prove to me? Or is it that I need to prove something to you?""I...I don't know what you mean," Akihito whispered.Asami stared into Akihito's anxious gaze for a long moment, then sighed. "We've been through this before. I told you that it changes nothing between us.""I know..." Akihito's forlorn expression seemed to increase the fatigue in Asami's expression. "Don't worry about it," he said, a bit more softly, giving Akihito's hair a brief caress and heading into the kitchen.Akihito followed Asami, watching him turn the electric kettle on to boil. They stood in silence for the full minute it took. Asami poured the tea into a mug shaped like a squat green frog and silently offered it to Akihito. Akihito shook his head."Asami..." he tried again. "I am sorry. I really didn't--""I know, Akihito. Shh, I know. I've been witness to your reckless thought processes too many times not to understand. And I know you wanted to help me. I bear much of the responsibility for this. I should never have allowed you to be involved, knowing how dangerous the situation was."Akihito is torn between sorrow that Asami was trying to absolve him of much of his guilt and between anger that Asami still seemed to be dismissing him and wanting to control him. Deep down, he knew that regardless of how disgusting Akihito himself had found his actions, they still hurt Asami. But because that thought scared him deeply, Akihito reverted to form and let his vulnerabilities and anger lash out.
"How many times do I have to tell you that I'm a grown man?" he cried. "You talk about allowing this or that, but you can't do that! You can't lock me up forever! Why? Why do you even want me here?"

Asami's eyes narrowed, and Akihito felt that familiar jolt. Everything was going to be all right. This was how they were. This was how they always were. Asami was going to get pissed off, and then they would have sex, and Akihito would get over his conflicted emotions and be able to admit for a little while that he wanted to be right here where he was.

But that's not what happened.

Asami half turned away, and his head lowered. "You're right. You are, and I can't."

Akihito's jaw dropped open. "Huh?"

"I'm a man of few words. Perhaps too few." He coughed out a dark laugh. "Actions speak louder than words, the saying goes. But I always prided myself on meaning exactly what I did bother to say and expressing myself with crystal clarity with or without words. It seems I've failed on both counts."

"What are you talking about?" Akihito asked, hating the plaintive sound of his own voice.

Asami raised his head, and Akihito was again struck by the fatigue he could see at the corner of Asami's eyes and in the lines of his mouth. He'd never looked more human, not even when he was bleeding on the ground at Akihito's feet. The almost gentle expression in his eyes terrified Akihito, the vulnerability it suggested too staggering to process.

"There's nothing for it, then. I'll have to go back on my word." With one hand he picked up his mug. "Perhaps we've already been to the ends of the abyss anyway. So from here...choose your own path."

Akihito went completely cold inside, so cold it made his hands tremble as they stretched toward Asami and hovered like disoriented moths in the air. "Are...are you finally kicking me out?"

Asami's expression flickered. Pain? Sorrow? But then he smiled, not a smirk, just a small, resigned, self-deprecating, yet strangely tender smile. "That will never happen."

With that, he turned and left the kitchen drawing a speechless Akihito in his wake. He stopped as he opened the sliding door to the terrace. "I won't stop you. Whatever you choose."

"Wait..." Akihito whispered. "Just wait a second..."

And Asami did, paused on the threshold, his b