Chapter 3

Shingo sat at the bar drinking like a man on a mission, which is exactly what he was. He was on a mission to get drunk, and as far as he could tell, all systems were go. He hadn't heard back from Kenji since the night he took him cliff jumping. He wasn't surprised - he'd expected as much. Besides, Kenji was far too calf-eyed and squeaky clean for him anyway.

He glanced up as someone sat down next to him to order a drink. It was a man, tall and heavily muscled. His head was shaved, and he had tattoos on his neck and arms. Shingo regarded him with an appraising (if rather drunken) look. Now this was more like it. He grinned sloppily at the man.

"Hey."

He felt the man size him up in return. Finally the man replied with a smile of his own. "Hey. Masaru."

"Shingo."

Masaru waved at the bartender, who came back with four shots of something clear. He pushed two of them in front of Shingo.

Shingo smirked and downed the shots in rapid succession. The alcohol, whatever it had been, hit him hard. He shook his head to clear it slightly.

"Good shit, right?" Masaru said.

In answer, Shingo kissed him. The way he figured it, anyone willing to buy him drinks deserved a favor.

Masaru deepened the kiss, bringing their bodies closer together. Shingo felt him hot and hard, grinding against his hip. After several minutes of this, Masaru whispered in his ear.

"If I get any harder, I'm gonna have to fuck you right here."

"I don't think the bartender would appur-appreciate that," Shingo replied.

Masaru laughed. He grabbed Shingo's arm and dragged him towards the exit. Shingo just let him. The world was starting to spin anyway, and he was losing track of what was going on around him.

In the parking lot, Masaru pushed him into a car. When the other man had gotten in and closed the door, Shingo unzipped his pants for him. Masaru was hard and surprisingly big, which only stoked Shingo's lust. He bent down and took him in his mouth. Masaru groaned and started the car. Shingo wondered why he'd done that, only to realize a short while later that they were actually moving. He tried to sit up to see where they were going, but Masaru pushed his head back down. He was only too happy to resume blowing Masaru, enjoying it so much that he forgot all about his concern.

Eventually they stopped, and Masaru pushed him out of the way so he could put the car in park. Shingo sat up and blinked in confusion at the deserted parking lot.

"Where-"

Masaru elbowed him in the face. Pain exploded from his nose outwards and he momentarily lost consciousness. The next thing he knew, Masaru had dragged him from the car.

"What-"

Masaru punched him across the jaw, and it was like being hit by a baseball bat. He fell back onto the dusty concrete, head reeling, nose bleeding profusely. Masaru kicked him several times in the ribs and back. He tried to back away, but the man gripped him by the throat and held him down.

"No-" Shingo wheezed.

"Shut up!" Masaru growled as he slammed his fist into Shingo's solar plexus.

Shingo doubled up, white hot pain turning his brain to static. Tears squeezed from the corners of his eyes, but no sounds could emerge from his spasming diaphragm.

Masaru continued to hit him, over and over, each heavy blow punctuated by a fresh insult.

"You filthy gay ass motherfucker," Masaru hissed. "Why are you so fucked up, huh?"

"I don't know," Shingo pleaded even as he tried desperately to protect his face and head from the onslaught. Unfortunately, that only infuriated his attacker.

"Yeah, you do," Masaru insisted. When Shingo didn't respond, Masaru slapped him hard. "Look at me, you fuck!"

Shingo howled as the blow caught him across the nose. Nevertheless, too terrified to do anything but obey, he squinted up through his involuntary tears to look Masaru in the eye. The madness twisting his attacker's handsome features chilled him to the bone.

"Your daddy fuck you when you were little, is that? Is that why you're so fucked up?"

"I don't even know who my dad was!" Shingo protested.

"Don't you dare lie to me, you sick, twisted freak! You pretended you didn't like it, but you did, didn't you? Admit it. Admit it, cockslut!"

The grip around Shingo's throat tightened. He clawed at Masaru's fingers, but for some reason, they were like steel traps. He struggled, his heels drumming uselessly against the pavement. He didn't know when or even if Masaru stopped. His body had gone numb and cold. His vision dimmed as the spots dancing in his vision became bigger, darker, overwhelming. He blacked out.

When Shingo woke, he was dazed and disoriented. He patted himself down and was both grateful and surprised to find that he was alive and more or less in one piece, though he felt as though he'd been run over by an Evo IV. He sat up and cast about the parking lot. Masaru was gone. He almost sobbed with relief. But then panic seized him when he realized that he had no idea where he was. He tottered to his feet and began to wander in the direction of the road. When he finally stumbled onto the road, he was lucky enough to see a street sign straight away. Unfortunately, he didn't recognize the street. He pulled his mobile phone from his pocket. At least Masaru hadn't taken that, not that the old ass piece of junk was worth anything. He needed help getting home, but there were a lot of issues attached to who he was going to call. He didn't have many friends, and what few he did have weren't particularly close. Of paramount importance was the concern that anyone he knew would see him in this condition. He needed to be able to trust them not to gossip about it the second they left his sight. Also, whoever he called would have to drive up and down the city streets looking for him with only the vaguest of clues as to his whereabouts. Who on earth would be stupid enough to do that, particularly at this hour of the night?

Kenji woke to the shrill electronic strains of his latest ringtone. He practically fell out of bed and hunted groggily around in the dark for the phone. When he finally found it, he didn't recognize the number. With a snort, he hit silence and went back to bed. Within seconds, however, the phone began ringing again. Annoyed, he answered it this time.

"Hello?" he mumbled into the phone.

"Kenji?"

Kenji stilled, his mind scrambling to put a name to the voice. Whoever they were, they sounded like they'd just clawed their way out of a grave. "Yes? Who is this?"

There was a pause during which he could hear heavy breathing. "It's Shingo."

Kenji frowned. "Look, what do you mean by calling me at this time of night? I don't want to jump off any more bridges, ok?"

"Kenji, listen to me. I…I don't know where I am. I'm sorry, about the bridge, and…and everything. I just…I need your help. Please."

The last word was a whisper, and Kenji could hear him breathing in a rather odd, hitchy way. "What happened?"

"Can you just come find me? I'm somewhere in Saitama." Shingo rattled off the location of the bar, and the name of the street that he was on.

"Ok, I've got a sat nav. I'll find you, ok? Just uh…hang on."

Kenji saw him just as he was about to turn around for another sweep of the street. He quickly pulled over and jumped out of the car.

Shingo was sitting on the ground, curled into a ball at the base of a burnt out streetlamp.

"Shingo? Is that you? Are you ok?" When Kenji approached him, the EG-6 driver looked up.

"Kenji?"

Shingo struggled to his feet. It was then that Kenji fully saw him. Shingo's face was a swollen mess of bruises, and his shirt, once white, was splattered with blood.

"Oh my god, what happened to you?" Kenji gasped.

Instead of answering him, Shingo lunged for him. Before he could react, the Nightkids driver threw his arms around him and hugged him as if he was a long lost lover out of one of those serial dramas his mom liked. Kenji stiffened, not at all sure how to react. Then he felt Shingo's disturbingly violent trembling, and he reflexively returned the hug. "It's gonna be ok," he mumbled. He continued to mutter reassurances until he finally felt Shingo's desperate grip on him relax. He carefully pulled back and searched Shingo's eyes. "I'm gonna take you to the hospital, ok?"

"No. I just…I want to go home. Please," Shingo added, his voice oddly rough.

Kenji frowned, knowing this was likely not the wisest course of action, but understanding intuitively how fragile Shingo was at that moment. He nodded, albeit with great misgivings.

Shingo reluctantly let go of him so that they could get into Kenji's 180.

"What's your address again?" Kenji asked. When Shingo responded, he punched the address into his sat nav and set it to take them there.

"What are you doing out here? What happened to you?" Kenji asked.

Shingo leaned his head against the window and stared out at the darkness beyond the reach of the halogen headlights. "Nothing," he said dully.

When they arrived at Shingo's apartment complex, Kenji was at a loss as to what to do. The EG-6 driver had remained uncommunicative for the duration of the journey, speaking only to give clarification to the navigator's directions. Kenji wanted to help, but he didn't know how, or even if he could.

"Thanks. Really," Shingo said. Then he opened the passenger door and got out of the car.

"Wait." Kenji hastily killed the engine and got out too. "I…I don't think you should be alone right now."

"I think I'll manage," Shingo said, although the sarcastic remark lacked the usual bite. Then he shot Kenji what he must have thought was a reassuring smile, but in actuality was as grim an expression as any Kenji had ever seen. "You've done enough. Besides, it's late. Your mom will be worried."

"I'm not leaving you like this," Kenji insisted.

Shingo stared at him for a long moment, and then the tension went out of him, as if he'd lost the will to argue. He slowly limped them across the parking lot, up two flights of stairs, and into his apartment. It was a studio flat with little more than a room, a bathroom, and a kitchenette. Kenji took in the impressive level of disarray in Shingo's apartment with his mouth slightly agape. How on earth did anybody live in such a mess?

"Wasn't expecting company," Shingo mumbled with a wave that seemed to encompass the entire flat.

"Uh, it's ok," Kenji said. "What uh, what can I do to help?"

"I'm just…I'm going to take a shower."

"You gonna be ok in there by yourself?"

Shingo gave him a withering look. "I sure hope so, because you're not coming in there with me."

That was more like Shingo, and it did more to allay Kenji's fears than any of his previous assurances.

Shingo let the searing hot water sluice over him. It stung his cuts and abrasions, but he didn't care. He wished the water could be hotter, but it was already turning his skin red.

This was his own stupid fault, he knew. What did he think was going to happen, picking up shady looking guys in seedy bars? Not to mention getting into their cars and letting them take him who knows where. If there was a prize for idiocy, he'd certainly won it tonight. No wonder everyone thought he was a failure.

Finally, after spending a significant amount of time berating himself, he forced himself to get out of the shower. He sat on the bed, his hair dripping wet spots onto the clean-ish t-shirt he'd pulled from the top of the laundry pile.

"So…you want to talk about it?" Kenji asked tentatively.

"Not particularly."

"Do you want a drink?"

Shingo shook his head. His post-drunken nausea had subsided in the shower, but the thought of drinking more just then made his stomach turn over.

"Is there anything I can do?" Kenji persisted.

Shingo sighed. "I'm fine, really. Why don't you go home?"

"Because I don't feel right leaving you like this," Kenji reiterated.

"Why do you care? You don't even like me."

"I like you," Kenji said, although even he sounded unconvinced.

"No you don't. It's ok - you don't have to pretend for my sake."

Kenji didn't say anything, and Shingo knew that his silence spoke more than any words ever could. He closed his eyes wearily and hoped that when he opened them again, Kenji would be gone. He heard movement, but to his surprise, a second later, he felt Kenji's warm hand on his shoulder.

"You're right, I don't like you," Kenji said. "I wanted to, very much, but you kind of made it impossible."

Shingo sighed. "I know."

"It's really self-destructive, you know, the way you drive people away," Kenji said.

Shingo cocked his head in surprise. Was it? He'd always thought he was doing the people he liked a favor.

"All the other stuff, too, like the race with Takumi, the bridge, this," Kenji said, gesturing at Shingo's face. "Why do you do it?"

Shingo shrugged. How could he explain the compulsion when he didn't even understand it himself?

"Aren't you scared that you might really get hurt someday?"

Shingo glanced over to find Kenji peering worriedly at him. He didn't want to admit it, but it scared the shit out of him sometimes. He shrugged again.

"Well…it scares me," Kenji said. "Maybe the next time you get the urge to do something crazy, you could call me instead."

Shingo regarded him with no small amount of suspicion. "Why would you do that for me?" he asked finally.

"Because we're friends," Kenji said simply.

Shingo snorted. "And just how do you figure that?"

"Well, when I was having a crappy day, you did everything you could think of to make me feel better. Now, maybe they weren't the brightest ideas, but that's the kind of thing a friend would do, isn't it?"

Shingo squinted at the unassuming Nissan driver, trying to refute his logic. Perhaps he'd underestimated Kenji after all. "But I made you jump off a bridge."

"You didn't make me do it," Kenji pointed out. "I was just trying to impress you. That was before I knew what a mess you are. I won't be making that mistake again, trust me!"

Shingo opened his mouth to snap off an angry retort only to find his irritation met with a sly grin. He snorted softly. "I did try to warn you."

"Yeah, you did," Kenji admitted. "I guess I'm not that bright either."

Shingo laughed.

"Come on, let's go to bed," Kenji said. "Unless you mind sharing the bed with me. If that's the case, then you can sleep on the floor, 'cause I'm not driving back to Akina tonight."

"I think I liked you better when you were all meek and spineless," Shingo said, though he waved Kenji to the bed and waited till he got in before he turned off the lights and joined him.

"You can keep your hands to yourself, too," Kenji said.

Shingo rolled his eyes in the dark. "Don't flatter yourself."

After a moment though, he felt Kenji roll over. A second later, an arm encircled his chest, and Kenji pulled him into a hug. Shingo put his arm over Kenji's and hugged him closer. There was nothing sexually charged about the embrace, it just felt nice - comforting. That night, Shingo drifted off to sleep feeling more content and at peace than he had since…possibly ever.