moe81 | Viewfinder Fic: Mine

Title: Mine

Rating: PG

Fandom: You’re My Love Prize In Viewfinder

Warnings: HUGE honkin’ spoilers for Chapter 17

A/N: A pretty new manga that nonoji inadvertently introduced me to. Thank you dearest.
A/N 2: Need to remember disclaimers for this one so... All Yamane Ayano's. Lucky thing.

The beeping of several machines – drip, heart monitor, brainwaves – filled the sterile room. If it wasn’t for that steady rhythm, the pale figure laying prone in the bed, covered by white sheets, could have easily been mistaken for being dead. That thought was enough to send a chill up even the strongest spine.

Asami wanted a cigarette so bad. Something to occupy his hands, his mind, something to stop him from reliving the shots fired and the slow motion replay of the body falling to the ships deck.

What would they do if he lit up in here? Probably throw him out. He shook his head. He couldn’t risk that, not right now. Takaba was so close to the edge, that he feared if he left, he would come back to nothing. He clenched the hands buried deep in his pockets, not only to stop the slight trembling that should not have been there, but to stop himself from reaching out and holding the lean body to his, taking him away where no one would ever find them again.

He shouldn’t be thinking like that. He had no right, no claim, contrary to what he had told Takaba in the past. This boy was not his property and that he was even entertaining the idea of keeping him, was almost laughable. But he wanted, so badly. He wanted to keep him safe from anything that could hurt him, keep that sharp mind and intelligent tongue to himself and never let anyone else have the chance to touch him.

There was no sudden realisation of what Takaba meant to him, just a small acknowledgement that he should have known this was going to happen. It was absurd for him to think that he could have gotten himself involved with someone so full of life, full of energy that he wouldn’t be touched by it, wouldn’t want to bundle it up and keep it with him at all costs. Screw the consequences.

And now this.

Asami stared past his reflection in the window and looked out to nothing, not seeing the bright lights of Hong Kong, nor the darkening horizon as the sun set on another day. It was so easy to destroy a human being, fragile in mind, fragile in body. Only Takaba had never seemed that way, even when he had first been taken and subjected to the torture of Asami’s hands and cock. He’d taken it all and still managed to bounce back and he had even gradually began to accept him, if only in that Asami had been using him, which right now would be so much easier to bear if he had been.

He’d grown attached to the boy and now he feared that someone would use him to gain access to his life, stripping him bare and showing the world that he really wasn’t as heartless as he seemed, then taking him down by destroying the one thing that he held closer than any other.

A shadowed figure moved in the glass reflection of the room, closing in on the bed that held life, on a precarious edge. Asami didn’t move, didn’t turn to greet the visitor, didn’t acknowledge the presence so intent upon Takaba’s body.

Dark eyes framed by long hair caused a slight flare of anger in his stomach, curling its way to his chest. The urge to reach for his gun was so small he could push it aside and call it inconsequential, but the urge was still there. He watched as the reflection reached out a hand and brushed bangs back from a damp forehead. He squelched the rising need to stride across the room and slap the hand away. Asami forced his breath to stay slow and focused.

He could feel Feilong’s eyes gazing, almost adoringly, at Takaba and swallowed the rising growl in his throat. His gun seemed just a little closer to his hand.

“You know, I could look after him.”

No.

“I could keep him safe.”

No.

“I could give him a life filled with everything he could ever want.”

No.

“I could-”

“NO!”

Apparently he had spoken that last one out loud because Feilong’s reflection jerked its head up and bore his gaze right into Asami’s skull. Asami twisted his upper body and stared into dark eyes, full warning and the schoolboy dare to touch what was his, just a little, so he could rip his head off. The hand withdrew and tucked itself back with the other, out of sight, but most definitely not out of mind.

Feilong’s eyes were calculating as they took in Asami’s protective stance and his clenched jaw. An eyebrow was raised in question and a small smirk played at thin lips. “What do you really think you could offer him, hmm?”

Eyes turned back to the bed’s occupant and the tip of a tongue flicked out to wet a lower lip. The inexplicable need to sneer, something that he had never had the presence of mind to do, caused a minute twitch to his eye.

“Leave.”

Feilong kept the smirk in place. “You can’t keep him to yourself forever, Asami.”

Asami blinked and all he saw was the tail end of a coat floating around the doorframe. The bastard was right. He couldn’t keep him safe forever. One day when he let his guard slip, someone would be there and they would snatch the boy out from under him.

He looked over Takaba’s face, every line, dip and shadow and prayed that he was strong enough to conquer all that opposed him, while trying to keep his heart from being ripped out. Feilong had always said that men couldn’t love men. Feilong was wrong.