This is my entry for Paradigm of Writing's Comfort Zones Do Not Exist in Writing contest.

Disclaimer: I do not own Smash brothers. Therefore, I do not own Marth and Ike.

Reminiscent of Your Touch

After drinking a large cup of iced coffee, my chest felt like it was going to burst open. Strong coffee had a tendency to alarmingly increase my heart rate. However, mornings were painful and caffeine was the only thing that helped. If the night job wasn't so taxing on my body, I wouldn't be complaining about it. I kept it because it was my only means of survival. The pay was more than decent.

I'd rather not say where I originally came from, but I had everything I could ever possibly want. My family was wealthy. The only thing I didn't have was the freedom to express myself.

First, I began dying my hair blue. It matched my eyes and I liked the way it looked. Upon doing this, my mother glared at me every morning. I continued to tell her that I wasn't doing myself or anyone else harm by having blue hair. Unfortunately, she didn't listen. She found ways to make me feel bad about myself. My father didn't care. I could tell he didn't care. That was comforting, compared to the way I was treated by my mother.

I left because I couldn't take living there anymore. If I didn't look the way my parents wanted me to look, I was scolded or cast aside. Talking to them didn't work, so I filled a small bag with clothes and left. I could only imagine what would have happened if I had stayed there and told them I was into boys…

The next thing I knew, I was sitting on a bus. I didn't know where I was going, but all I cared about was being free. I didn't have much money, but I had enough to survive on for a few weeks.

When I got off the bus, I was in a beautiful neighborhood in a grand city. I began strolling down the sidewalks, passing all the ornate mansions. I wondered if there was anyone trapped inside them like I was.

As I continued walking, I turned a few corners. I was wandering. The buildings got smaller, the streets grew darker, and there were bars over windows. I was getting tired and hungry, but I wasn't afraid of being put down by people who should've loved me the way I wanted to be.

After walking for hours, my legs were ready to collapse. When I thought I was never going to find somewhere to rest, a man stopped me. I heard footsteps approaching from behind me, and then felt a hand grab my shoulder.

"Hey," he said, catching his breath. "My boss saw you walk past our shop and asked me to catch you."

I turned around to listen to him. "You must be mistaking me for someone else. I've never been here before."

"He wants to offer you a job," he said.

"A job?"

"Yeah, come with me," he said, tugging my arm lightly.

I could tell something wasn't right, but I was curious to see what kind of "job" I was being offered. I began to think I was being tricked into doing something that wasn't a job interview. Regardless, I was wandering aimlessly. I had nowhere else to go.

As we passed under a streetlight, I noticed that this man also had blue hair. He was much taller than me, but didn't look much older. I thought he was handsome. Maybe that's why I let him take me.

We walked down dark, narrow streets, and then made a sharp turn down an alleyway. By that point, I really couldn't see where I was going. If that boy hadn't been guiding me by the arm, I surely would've tripped and fell in a puddle of sludge and lay there, exhausted.

When I could finally see again, I was looking at a small neon sign that read: "Tiara Boys." That was the moment I realized where I actually was. I felt my stomach jump as the door clicked shut behind me.

Inside, the lights were dim. There were provocative images of men ranging from far too young to far too old. As the man led me through the main hall, I asked him his name.

"Oh, I'm Ike. I'm sorry for not introducing myself."

"My name is Marth."

When we reached the back of the building, Ike motioned for me to follow him into an office. When I entered the small room, there was a man sitting behind a desk. He was speaking to someone on the phone, but when he noticed us, he wrapped up his conversation and hung up immediately.

"You may go now, Ike," the man said, in a gravelly voice.

Ike turned toward me with an apologetic face, and then left the room. I could feel drops of sweat beginning to run down my back. I was standing in a room with the manager of an illegal establishment. It was thrilling but also terrifying. I'll admit to being scared, then.

"Sit down on that table," said the manager, pointing to a collapsible metal table, illuminated by a single lightbulb.

I gulped, and then sat down on the cold, metal surface. I swallowed my fear at that moment, and decided to leave it behind me for good. The husky, older man asked me to take off my clothes so he could examine me. I let him touch every inch of my body. For once, someone admired my body as it was. By looking at the situation like that, it wasn't so bad.

"You're hired, kid. Ike and the others will show you the ropes."

When I came out of the office, Ike was standing just a few steps away from the door. He ran up to me, suddenly wrapping his arms around me.

"I'm so sorry. Are you okay, Marth?" he asked, looking into my eyes. "You don't have to do this."

"I'm alright, Ike. I should actually be thanking you for taking me here. I'm going to stay. I've already made up my mind."

"Do you live around here?" Ike asked.

"No… I…"

Ike gently closed his eyes. "Don't say another word. You can stay at my place tonight."

"Really? But we've only just-"

"I dragged you into this mess. Giving you a place to stay is the least I could do."

After we talked for a little while, Ike showed me how to treat clients. Before he had time to show me the rest of the basics, a customer walked in. The boss came up to the front counter and told me to help Ike get ready.

When I left him with the customer, my hands were trembling. I was willing myself to get used to this environment, but it was going to take time. Since it was my first night, I was spared the misery of having my own clients.

A couple hours later, everything began to quiet down for the night. I didn't even know what time it was. When all of the customers had left, my new co-workers introduced themselves to me. They all looked tired.

Ike and I walked back to his apartment together after work. He lived in a very small space. It was only one room. I couldn't believe how generous he was to allow me to stay with him.

"I'm going to take a shower. Feel free to lay down if you're tired," Ike said, smiling.

I could tell he was even exhausted. I laid down on his bed and thought about what I'd gotten myself into. I thought about my life back at home. Running away was a foolish and dangerous decision, but I didn't think of it like that. Here, people at least accepted me.

I couldn't fall asleep at first, but when Ike was done showering, he laid down next to me. I slept with my back against his.

We worked six days a week. On the seventh day, we stripped as a group performance. I began to get the hang of the job, but it was tiring. There were health risks everywhere. After each night, Ike helped me get cleaned up. He was doing it to keep me healthy and safe, but I began to grow fond of him. The happiest I ever felt was when Ike smiled up at me as he knelt next to the bathtub.

Ike let me stay with him. Outside of work, neither of us were interested in sex. In fact, we didn't talk or think about it.

One night, Ike came back with bruises. I came back bruised and scratched all the time, but when I saw Ike messed up, I realized we couldn't live like this forever.

I had been documented as a missing person for over a year, so I was always careful whenever I was out. I was still living with Ike, so we began splitting the rent. Every night, Ike took me into the shower with him and cleaned me off. I wished he would touch me more, but if he did, surely he would notice my excitement. I'd had enough of people touching me for money. Ike touched me because he cared about me.

Living like that was hard. Watching Ike slowly deteriorate was even harder. He's long gone now. I'm probably lucky I made it out of there without contracting a terminal illness. I still live in the very same apartment, under Ike's name. It's been ten years since we were together.

Maybe it isn't the coffee that's messing with my heartrate.