Please Love Me - Chapter Three

Please Love Me
Chapter 3




Yami found himself in a world slipping between happiness that he and Dmitri could officially call each other more than just neighbors, and absolute depression because no matter how hard he played, or how long he played, he’d still not managed to catch the eyes of any musical scout whatsoever. He returned to the open mike circuits as well as a few bars that were willing to actually pay him for his musical services. Spending every night singing his voice raw and playing until his fingers were bleeding.

Yami never once attended any of the tenant meetings. Simply because he’d rather just fix things himself than rely on the apartment owner to actually do anything. Plus, he didn’t like to openly complain. So he ignored the invitation for the umpteenth time. Instead standing on the all too familiar bench at his most frequented park. After a good couple of hours, a check to his cell phone told him he had a show coming up for a paying bar performance.

Quickly heading home and changing into an outfit not soaked with sweat, combing his Mohawk down and tipping a black and white trucker hat on his head, he dragged his guitar to the bar. Sipping at a glass of water, he tried to get his head on straight, prepared to unleash a series of newly written songs along with a couple that had grown semi popularity amongst the crowd that continued to follow him from time to time. The tender cocked his head towards the small stage set up and Yami nodded before swallowing thickly and dragging his exhausted, but buzzing, ass to the stool.

He waited before Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. He then began to pour his heart out in both English and Japanese. Almost every song he had written over the last few days circled around the neighbor he had the feeling he’d never get to be more than just friends. Finally finishing off the set with the song he’d purposefully written about the man, played the last set of chords before sighing and listening to the scattered applause.

Standing, he bowed before smiling grimly and heading back to his seat at the bar. Collecting his bundle of bills for payment, he instantly opened a tab and ordered two shots of tequila and downed them before shuddering and laying his head down on the counter with a sigh. He had a feeling it was going to be a long night, though unaware of exactly why it would be… he just knew.

Sore arms were spindled out along the counter as Yami felt the liquor quickly take hold of his empty stomach. Thin fingers danced along the wood in a demented sort of tango as he hummed lowly to himself. Wondering why the world was so cruel and determined to turn him into a robot that served ‘the man’ rather than let him live out his dreams of fighting the system through the wonders of music. He felt a tap on his forearm before tilting his head to the side. Cheek rolling against the cool counter as mahogany hues focused in on the tender. “Nani?” He inquired as the man chuckled.

A small shot glass was placed in front of him. “From Itoshii Hito.” The raven haired man muttered with a shrug.

“Nani yo?… Itoshii… hito…” He muttered before it clicked. Dmitri!

Sitting up straight, he angled his back to see behind the other patrons at the bar. Eyes landing on the familiar head of sapphire hair, Yami couldn’t help but smile. Perhaps the night wouldn’t be so long for a bad reason? Raising the shot in the man’s direction, he tipped it back before tapping his nails against the counter with a wince and shake of his head. Left eye twitching as shudders caused his body to shudder deliciously. Sticking out his tongue in a disgusted motion, he couldn’t help but wonder why he subjected himself to such hellish drinks.

Swiveling his chair, he lifted himself onto his feet. Pacing over to where Dmitri and one of their neighbor’s was sitting, he leaned against the counter before pushing his index finger against the bill of his hat. Tipping the accessory back a bit, he offered a lopsided smile. “How’s your asshole doing?” He inquired, it seemed to him a common enough question to ask Dmitri considering Justin happened to come up in their conversation often enough.

“Neglected and unsatisfied, how about yours?” Dmitri responded smoothly. Angel, the aforementioned neighbor, gave both men a surprised and confused look, obviously more than a little confused about what the term was referring to, and then wondering if they were talking about what he thought they were. “Yes Angel, gay men greet each other by asking about their ass.” The straight face his drinking companion wore almost had him fooled but a laugh slipped past his lips before he could stop it.

“Fuck you.” Angel chuckled along with Dmitri until beer flowing shut them both up for a time.

Yami vaguely remembered seeing Angel about the complex on occasion, but they never said much, perhaps a passing hello or a tilt of the head… but that was the most of it. Yami wasn’t even sure if Angel actually lived there, he could just be one of the other tenants’ friend or boyfriend for all he knew. He actually didn’t really care. As long as he wasn’t one of the other people in their community that was screaming at him to stop playing his music at god awful times in the morning. If he was one who didn’t mind, then Yami was sure fine about finally knowing a name,

“He’s still an asshole, but he’s not the one giving me problems right now.” Dmi informed casually. He shifted in his bar stool and smiled widely. “It’s a coincidence running into you out in the world. And while you were doing a show. I wish I hadn’t started daydreaming but you’ll give me a private show soon right? Before I have to start shelling out 40 dollars to hear you.” He laughed once again and started on his second beer. “Let me buy you another drink.” Dmi demanded/asked of Yami, turning back to the bartender.

Yami chuckled gently about the comment of Dmitri’s asshole being neglected, laughing even harder at Angel’s reaction, and kept right on chuckling before he bit his lip and got his fuzzy brain to realize he was making a fool of himself by giggling like some sort of demented school girl. Swallowing thickly, he listened to Dmitri’s half assed gripe before nodding. “Ah… Cade…” He muttered before saying something in Japanese that didn’t sound all too friendly.

Grabbing a nearby stool, he pulled it up next to Dmitri, unsure of whether or not his legs would keep him up for much longer. Sitting down, he splayed his fingers out along the bar as the man stated he was going to order him a drink. Vouching for a cheap beer, he watched as the tender cracked off the lid and slid the bottle into his waiting palm.

Tipping back the bitter liquid, he smirked. “Yeah… forty bucks…” He muttered with a roll of his eyes. “If the stupid gods of the stupid world decide to stop being jerks and give me a shot with a recording company… A few more months of this and I’m going to find myself by in New York working behind a desk in a tiny ass cubicle fending off fat perverts who have a thing for the exotic.” Biting down on his tongue in an animated fashion, the Japanese man crossed his eyes before pulling his hat down over half of his face.

Dmitri clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth then let out something of a disappointed sigh when the musician claimed he would be going back to New York if he didn’t find his break in the Sunshine State. He gave a look to the male out of the corner of his eye and smirked. “Not all the perverts are gonna be fat. I hope that helps with that a little.” He joked a little, messing with the condensation on the outside of his beer bottle with his pinky finger.

“Keep feeding me and I’ll keep performing,” He offered, leaning to lay his head on Dmitri’s shoulder with a half yawn, more from being bored than actually tired.

When Yami decided to rest on his shoulder Dmitri did blink in surprise but made no move to brush him off. “I can work with that.” He planned to do that anyway to get music.

Thinking back to that made him huff and take a long swallow of beer into his system, pushing the bottle away when he felt he was close to his limit. Quickly he reached into his pocket and looked at his cell phone for the time and date.

“Speaking of… I owe you a dinner. When do I get to pay you back?” He now had the money at his fingertips to actually hold up his promise from before Cade came into the picture. He needed a date so he didn’t wind up blowing the wad on something other than food.

“Either now or tomorrow, it’s your choice cowboy.” Dmitri decided, letting out a sigh and resting his cheek slightly against the top of Yami’s hat. “I look forward to it.”

Now or tomorrow… Yami held up his hand to count on his fingers softly, “Ichi, ni, san, go… No wait… Ichi, ni, san, shi…” Nodding, he figured out how many drinks he had and countered that with how well he’d be able to cook if, by some granted gift from heaven, he’d be able to get the ingredients tonight. A glance at the clock told him there was no chance the fish market would be open right at that moment. That led him to deciding upon tomorrow. To which he stated before rolling his cheek against Dmitri’s shoulder so he could glance across the flat plane of his chest over at Angel who was withdrawing his wallet.

Oh jeez, had they been there that long? Squinting one eye, Yami began counting again to figure out how much his own tab would be. Shrugging, he pulled out his new found roll of cash.

Dmitri’s eyes drifted over to Angel who was pulling out his wallet and paying for his drinks, also displaying that he reached his limit for the night. “Thanks for coming out with me, man.” The male turned around and smiled, the gesture showing off one of his sliver teeth.

“Hey, seems like every guy you know is an asshole, I had to come and represent for the rest of the gender. Prove there’s some good ones out there.” He claimed, paying off his tab and turning around in his seat. A thoughtful looked crossed his fate. “Though…I think it’s just homo guys that are the assholes.”

Dmitri flashed the male his middle fingers and a chuckle got out. With his track record though he might have to admit that Angel was right, that seemed to be the case. “I’m guessing you’re a single man now.” Damn, Angel guessed it, but it didn’t seem that hard to get.

“Yes and no.” Dmitri sighed, confusing Angel a little. Of course he didn’t know about his relationship style. “Yes.” He settled for that answer. Angel gave him a pat on the shoulder while he just shook his head.

Lifting his head off of Dmitri’s shoulder, Yami waved down the tender and tossed a couple of twenties in his direction, hoping that it was enough to pay off his hefty tab that had built up over the last few days he had performed without paying… of course it wasn’t. The bartender quirked a brow and curled his fingers in a movement for more money. Yami slumped before rolling his eyes and pushing another twenty into the waiting hand before the man closed his eyes and nodded.

He tuned back into Angel and Dmitri’s conversation right in time to hear about his neighbor’s relationship status. Perking a brow, he chuckled and shook his head. Angel was absolutely oblivious to what sort of fun his friend took part in, wasn’t he? “Sorry to hear about that, man…” Yami said, patting Dmitri on the opposing shoulder as Angel before he pushed himself off of his stool. “…I gotta run, though. You two have fun, kay?” He mumbled before heading back to his original seat.

Slinging his guitar case over his shoulder, he adjusted the strap before raising two fingers in a salute to his previous drinking companions and taking his leave. He had to get home before it was too late to call his mother. She’d been the one who taught him how to cook and he needed some ideas… not to mention a list of ingredients, for how he could sway Dmitri into loving him by winning over his stomach first. The fact that Cade’s slot in Dmitri’s life was currently vacant only proving to elevate Yami’s mood that much more.

---


Yami spent his night arguing with his mother over what type of fish would make a better sushi at this time of year. She, of course, was used to the pickings she could find in New York, amazingly unknowing of just how much fish Yami had to choose from in the markets in Florida. After roughly three hours of planning, arguing, laughing to the point of tears, and letting her know how well his little musical adventure was going, Yami got the woman off the phone she had yet to actually grasp the idea of using.

The next day was taken up with navigating his five foot eight frame along the random fish markets he could walk to. Inspecting different breeds and taking part in speaking to people who actually came from Japan and didn’t need him giving translations to what he wanted when he wanted it. It was an utterly refreshing feeling to be around his own ‘people’ and not feeling outcast because he had the tendency to speak Jap-Lish. The musician was so excited to have the chance to win over Dmitri that he had even blown a bit too much of his cash on a tall bottle of sake to share during their meal. Thinking it’d be a nice change from the random brews of beer he’d been subjected to every time he ate with someone else.

The last few portions of his day was spent cleaning his apartment, slicing up the fish he’d bought, preparing the rice and fried vegetables, figuring out whether or not he should wear his Mohawk down or if he should attempt to pull it back into a pony-tail., debating whether or not it was a good idea to even try and get into Dmitri’s life, and praying that when the man finally came over; he’d actually enjoy the meal.

At roughly seven he hopped into the shower to get rid of the fish smell that clung to his skin, changed into a pair of loose blue jeans and a white tank top, pulled his Mohawk straight back on his head and wrapped a black hair band around the locks producing a small tuft of hair to pop from the back of his cranium, and headed out the door to knock on Dmitri’s… just in case he might have forgotten that he was supposed to be eating at Chez Yami’s.

Leaning against the wall, he wrapped his knuckles against the wood before calling out, “Room service!” Through the door before crossing his arms over his skinny chest; feeling the anxious butterflies rising in his belly and swarming throughout his body. Those butterflies going insane when the door was finally opened and he could see his slowly forming object of affection.

Staring at Yami silently for a moment, Dmitri tipped his head as though he was expressing dissatisfaction. “My menu said my Asian male would be naked and covered in caramel.” He shook his head and put on a smile, looking down so he could put on a pair of flip flops and step out of the door, locking it with one of the keys stuffed in his pocket. He looked back to Yami, pushing some of his still damp hair out of his face. “I hope you plan to make good for that mistake.” He teased, double checking to make sure he brought some cigarettes with him.

Yami snorted out a laugh when the comment hit his ears. “Mmm… well, perhaps I got the wrong apartment? But… I can try to work something out. I don’t think I have any caramel, though…” He pushed himself off the wall as he tapped a black painted nail against his bottom lip. “I might have some dipping chocolate somewhere… maybe…” Twisting his lips in thought, he lead the way the whole ten feet it took to get to his apartment.

“Chocolate. Unless you want McDonald’s at the ER we’ll have to pass.” The dancer smiled as he confessed his food allergy and followed the man as they made the short transition from his apartment to Yami’s.

Opening the door with an over emphasized flourish Yami tipped his head back with a wince. “Chez Yami, good sir.” He announced before relaxing his limbs and stepping in.

His apartment was lackluster at best. The furniture consisting of one tan couch that had obviously repaired patches covering it, a black cushiony chair, a small coffee table with hundreds of nicks in it and people’s names carved by knife point, and a small television sitting on top of blue egg crates with bunny ear antenna finishing off the entire ‘I’m poor as dirt’ décor. He’d managed to set up the coffee table with a few flickering candles just so that it didn’t seem entirely like a poor rocker’s house, though.

Pushing Dmitri to the couch, he commanded that he sit before heading into the kitchen. First he grabbed the vase like container of sake and two small clay shot glasses. He hissed when he first grabbed the bottle, having heated it up via microwave. Blowing on his fingers, he grabbed onto the bottle again before leading into the living room and placing the items on the table. Hurrying back into the kitchen, he grabbed the prepared square plates littered with different sushi rolls, fried vegetables, and steamed white rice. Grabbing onto two sets of chopsticks, he held the wooden utensils between his teeth before balancing soy and duck sauce on his forearms as he made his way with the hazardously piled things into the living room.

Setting down the plates and Asian condiments, he bowed before putting on the fakest French accent he could muster. “Bon appetite.” He muttered before realizing he still had the chopsticks between his teeth. Plucking them away from his orifice, he plopped down on the couch next to Dmitri with a grin. “Traditional Japanese flavor…. In a not so traditional setting…” The last part was whispered as he eyed his apartment.

“You do know how to use these, right?” He inquired, holding the sticks out so that Dmitri could take his own. Once they were taken up by his neighbor, he set his own down on his pile of rice before leaning forward to grab up the heated sake. Pouring enough into both of the glasses, he picked both up gingerly. “To freedom of love.” He stated, holding Dmitri’s out so that he could take it before tipping his own back. He hadn’t tasted it before to see exactly what flavor it had held, but was pleasantly surprised that he had picked the fruitier brew.

A big smile that had been absent from Dmitri’s face lit up his expression for just a moment as he held up the glass. “To freedom of love.” He echoed, taking back the drink. Dmitri never had whatever it was before but he liked it.

Setting the glass down on the table he wanted for Yami to take his food then followed suit as he was taught to do. “Everything smells good.” Hesitantly he took some sushi and bit into it, finding it to be better than he expected to be. “Tastes good too.” He was eating quietly not because of nervousness or lack of conversation topics but because he was enjoying the food.

When he had his fill for the moment he lowered his sticks and looked over at Yami. “I think I might kidnap you so you can cook for me when Bart runs me late.” Dmi acknowledged a thought passing him by. “I never found out exactly what that title meant. Are you going to tell me or will I have to rough it out of you?”

Yami chewed on a piece of sliced carrot royally doused in soy sauce as he heard Dmitri’s plans to kidnap him. The man couldn’t help but think of other reasons to be kidnapped, but he left the ideas be unspoken as the man brought up the title he had given him once more. Swallowing, he licked his lips and stared hard at his chopsticks before clicking the ends together out of habit. Pondering whether or not he should just come clean with the man or let him continue thinking that the words really didn’t have a deep meaning to them.

Pushing a bit of rice between his lips, he chewed and swallowed before sucking on the ends of his sticks. “I’m curious to know how you’d manage to ‘rough it out of me‘.” He finally stated with a quirk of his brow. Popping another piece of sushi between his lips, he chewed with nothing but an obvious smirk on his pursed lips. Keeping from laughing at the sheer thought of Dmitri fighting him just to know what ‘itoshii hito’ meant.

After swallowing down the slice of fish roll, his tongue toyed with the black ring in his lip for a moment before he grinned. “Because… I’m obviously Japanese… which means I obviously know karate… and I’m sure you’ve seen Bruce Lee whip some shit out…” Pushing his lips into a thin line, he nodded his head as his brows sky rocketed. Obviously making fun of his own heritage for the sole purpose of eliciting a few laughs from his very well hidden object of affection. “Besides, it’s just a stupid title… why’d you bring it up?”

Picking up some rice that was sticky with the duck sauce that he dumped onto it Dmitri snorted a little. “You’d be surprised how much fighting a ballerina can do.” The masculinity he was trying to portray there got lost in the term ballerina and he didn’t bother trying to get it back.

Reaching across the table, he refilled his glass of sake before sipping at the now just above room temperature liquid. He knew that sake was a dangerous thing to drink at times. Especially when one hadn’t drank it before. The alcohol levels in the rice beer was insane and he would be careful to make sure that Dmitri didn’t drink a whole lot of it… but it wouldn’t be terrible to let him get a slight buzz, anyways.

“Crossed my mind.” He claimed as he leaned forward and helped himself to more sake, taking a half glass drink that time instead of a full one. That stuff was seriously good, he might have to go out and find it on his own. Setting his glass back down on the table he pulled his legs under his body and ate another piece of sushi. Not once did he plan to debate whether or not to mention the song.

“Angel said he heard it in a song you were singing at your show the other night.” Dmitri claimed, picking up more rice and chewing it slowly before starting on his vegetables. “He was drunk, I was drunk, he only speaks Southern hillbilly English, so he probably didn’t hear it right.” He made an excuse for the other without realizing it. Beyond that, he said it was just a stupid title, so he let it fade from the front of his mind and take up less important memory space.

Polishing off another glass of sake, Dmitri made himself more comfortable on the couch when his cell phone rang. He dipped into his pocket and maneuvered past his smokes to get to the device. Rolling his eyes, he picked up the phone and said hello before putting it on mute and tossing it beside him on the couch.

“He’ll hang up after a while.” He explained to Yami, getting some more to drink. “This stuff is great.” All smiles he continued to eat until he thought he had his fill, leaving a bit behind as he was again taught to do when he was invited out to eat.

Letting his sticks clatter against the plate, he tipped back what was left in his little cup before noticing that Dmitri was helping himself to yet another shots worth of sake. Eyes widened slightly as he tossed the phone to the side before a brow lifted in a quizzical manner. Well, that wasn’t exactly something nice to do to someone. Wonder who it could possibly be?

Shrugging it off, he could feel the warm buzz of alcohol humming through him before he placed his hand over the mouth of the sake bottle. “Chill on the sake, man… this is serious alcohol and I don’t think Justin would appreciate you getting trashed at my place…” Not to mention the fact that Yami was pretty damn sure that if Dmitri consumed any more than two more shots he’d be putty in the Jap’s hands.

Swallowing thickly, he scratched at the back of his neck before going ahead and pouring himself another bit of the rice liquor. After a moment of lapsed silence, he sighed. “So things didn’t work out with Cade, huh?” He inquired before raising his glass to his lips and tipping back the last of it. He remembered idly Dmitri had said he was single, but Yami had noticed that Justin was still present in his life. So that led him to the belief that Cade was out of the picture… maybe with a little nudging he could take his place?

Dmitri frowned when his path to the good stuff was blocked by Yami’s hand, looking at said male as he was instructed to slow down. “Don’t underestimate how well a ballerina can hold his liquor.” Why was there no appropriate term for a male ballet dancer, that drove him nuts. “If you don’t want me to get trashed at your place, just say. Let me worry about Justin. Trust me, he doesn’t know you exist.”

When silence fell over them he turned his attention to his cell phone, his name being barked out signaling the end of his boss’ bitch fest. He turned the mute off and assured Bart that his gallery opening would be perfect and all he had to do that weekend was find a nice suit to wear and show up while Dmi did all the heavy lifting before hanging up and tucking the phone back into his pocket.

Since he was denied another refill Dmitri simply finished the drink that was in his glass then set it on the table before leaning back into the couch, happily full and buzzed. He nearly closed his eyes and thought to ask if they could share a nap on Yami’s suddenly comfortable couch but he was posed with a question of his own. Sighing, Dmitri turned his head so he was facing the opposite direction of his host.

“No, things didn’t work. He didn’t exactly accept or understand what I do.” He mumbled, “He tells me he was cheating on me like he was telling me about a new outfit he bought and that he was dumping me for the guy, then has the balls to say that we should meet and double date 3 seconds later. Then I asked him why and he said it’s the exact same thing I do. Being poly and cheating… it’s not the same thing… He got to leave happy to be alive and I’m just hu--”

He sputtered suddenly and chuckled. “I sound like a woman.” He turned his head back to Yami. “No, it didn’t work out. I’m so happy to get all that pink shit outta my house.”

Yami had grown up with sake being his choice drink, so the effects weren’t nearly as heavy on him, procuring him to drink more even after he had blocked off Dmitri from doing so. He relaxed back onto the couch as well, folding his arms behind his head as he listened to the other’s rambles about Cade. Though, quite honestly, he didn’t catch any more than probably three words of the entire story. His slightly fuzzed brain far to focused in on the way the man’s lips moved, how they’d gotten slightly swollen from the bite of duck sauce, how he pressed his tongue against his teeth when he uttered certain phrases…

He blinked when Dmitri finally turned to look at him. The man was laughing, he must have made some sort of joke… Smiling softly, Yami tried to remember the initial question at hand before shaking his head. Tipping some of the rice liquor into both glasses, he handed the other to Dmitri before raising it. “To loves that are well worth the loss… to no more pink stuff!” He announced before tipping the shot back.

Slamming the glass half heartily on the table he muttered something in his native tongue about drinking too much before looking back at Dmitri. “Fuck it… drink as much as you want. You’ve got reason to get drunk, anyways.” He shrugged before holding up the bottle to check how much was even left. Shocked slightly to find it almost empty.

They’d drank more than he had originally thought. Maybe it wouldn’t take any more for Dmitri to get drunk. It’d just be a matter of waiting for the full effects to kick in…

“Well, you sound like a woman, I write enough sappy songs to be a woman… we’re all just women, I suppose.” He rambled on, brain growing more and more fuzzier by each passing moment. Slapping his hand against his cheek, he squinted his eyes and scrunched up his nose. Trying to focus in on the guitar sitting in the corner of the room.

“I lied to you… gomen nesai… Please forgive me…” He babbled out, the filter between brain and mouth completely decimated. Reaching back, he pulled the band out of his hair and shook his head so that the locks fell on either side before pushing the bit of elastic onto his wrist. “Itoshii hito… it’s not just a title… well… it is a title… but it’s not exactly an appropriate thing to call you. I just thought it’d be funny at the time… and… I dunno… it’d be nice to call my Itoshii hito for a good reason… but I can’t let you not know what it means and keep on thinking it’s not something that’s important… because it is… and that’s why I’m going to keep calling you it.” He had originally planned to actually tell Dmitri what the terms meant, but in the end, his oblivious brain had managed to skirt around the topic entirely.

Even as he hiccupped gently and blinked, looking down at his empty plate with dazed eyes he grinned from ear to ear. “Damn… I didn’t think I bought the good shit…” He muttered before chuckling and looking up at Dmitri; fully expecting the swimming image of a blue haired man to be as absolutely drunk as he happened to be.

Dmitri then reached out, placing both of his hands on Yami’s cheeks and turning the other’s face more towards him. His thumb inched towards the male’s lips, hovering over the lower carefully and slowly as he studied them intently. “You can call me whatever you want, I don’t care. Gina calls me her conejo macizo.” He purred out the last bit of Spanish happily, laughing as he relinquished Yami’s face. “Your lips, they’re soft, it’s nice.” Smiling he leaned back into the couch, letting out a content sigh and closing his eyes.

Yami could have sworn that the whole world stood still and time completely stopped as his bottom lip was caressed by the pad of Dmitri’s thumb. Yami sat in awe as tingles swept from that slight contact all the way throughout his body and shot right into his groin. Why was he so close? What was he saying? Why is he staring at his mouth? Was Yami about to finally gain the kiss he coveted so dearly? No… of course not. It was a mere tease. A gush of air escaped the Asian’s lungs when Dmitri fell back against the couch.

Tongue tracing over his lips, he relished in the feeling he gained from it.

Falling onto the couch as well, he let his head rest on his neighbor’s shoulder with a sigh of utter content. Still having not blinked once since the prior touching of the man. “Oy… Dmi… Kisu wa…” He muttered softly. He wanted to kiss the man, but his poor brain couldn’t sum up the English words for it. So instead of working hard at translating what he craved into speech, he merely stroked a hand upwards. Cupping the other’s cheek, he tilted his head until he felt the contact of lips on his own. Nothing spectacular. No, just a bit of contact with a soft smile curling the ends of his mouth.

But even that sent Yami reeling. Wanting, craving, needing more of this man who was so… endearing… and odd… and willing to hang out with a no good punk like himself, without giving any complaints.

Yami’s entire body was tingling at that point. Whether it be from alcohol, the fact that he was kissing his neighbor, or an odd mixture of both… he didn’t really care. But he wanted more. He needed more. And he was granted more.

When a hand cupped his cheek and the pressure on his mouth intensified, the Jap’s breath hitched slightly. Hand sliding down to wrap slightly around the back of Dmitri’s neck. He relished in the utter softness of the man’s lips. The smooth contours caressing his own in such a blissfully innocent manner. He wasn’t even sure if Dmitri could connect the dots; knowing full well the drastic effects of sake on someone who was virgin to rice liquor. But he loved it none the less.

He knew he should stop, he knew this wasn’t right, he knew he was taking advantage of the drunk dancer… but the man honestly didn’t care. Dmitri was single (sort of), and he obviously wasn’t unhappy by the motions… it wouldn’t really hurt any to try and take it a step further, right?

So he shifted his weight slightly so that he was sitting sideways on the couch before leaning back and pulling the cerulean haired man down with him. Ensuring that their lips stayed connected. Once on his back, he applied more pressure in his contact between lips before letting his tongue sweep out in attempts to gain access to the other’s mouth. Wanting to know everything about this oddity. Wanting to taste him, feel him, see everything, smell everything… Dmitri may not have known it; but Yami was ultimately swept up in a slowly spinning web that was the ballerina’s love life. Wanting to stay caught in that sticky web forever… or until he was forced to move back to New York and merely have memories to cherish about his time with his neighbor.

If Yami’s mouth wasn’t so taken up with other actions, he would have squealed from delight when he was gained access to the heated cavern of Dmitri’s mouth. His tongue swept through, checking every contour and tasting everything he possibly could. Thrilled at the addictive flavor that the man held. Sweet like the sake with hints of spice from the duck sauce and a dash of something purely Dmitri that Yami couldn’t even find a word for. Not that he was really searching for a word to describe the musky taste that clung to his senses when they separated.

The man’s head was spinning as he drew in a tight breath. Watching Dmitri he noticed that he was speaking… something about fruit?

Smiling softly, he nodded. “Yeah…” He responded before licking his lips gently. “Fruity goodness…” He couldn’t help but laugh at his own personal, poorly made joke. Fruity, as in gay, as in homosexual, as in what the two happened to be. The entire thought process had him chuckling before he wrapped his fingers around Dmitri’s and raised them to his lips. Pressing a kiss to each one of the digits, he grinned and pushed himself up into a sitting position once more.

“Smooth… and fruity…” He commented before chuckling again. “Mmm.. You should probably get home… I really don’t need my door kicked down, itoshii hito…” He muttered before stretching his arms over his head with a crackle of his spine. He was insanely worried about Justin coming in and beating him up for trying to steal his boyfriend or something of the like. Dmitri may not have noticed it… but Justin happened to be a very daunting person and.. Well… he held quite a bit of height when compared to the musician, making him all the more nervous if he were to think that they were sleeping together and decided to get jealous and want revenge.

Yami didn’t really want the man to leave. He would much rather they pile into his bed and keep kissing until they passed out. No sex needed, really. He’d just like to be able to hold his neighbor until they both sought refuge from their drunken minds in the state of dreams. He was about to voice those thoughts when lips were pressed to his own once more. He pressed back for a moment before he was at a loss… Dmitri was leaving.

Swallowing thickly, he merely smiled a nodded to everything the man had to say before teetering on his feet and attempting to clean up the dinner mess they had made.

Once everything was put away (sort of), he found himself in his bed… alone again. Which was pretty depressing considering the fact that Dmitri could be there, but he’d somehow managed to push him away. Not exactly his first intention… but the time might come later on down the line. He vaguely remembered the man wanting to know when his next show would be. Which was an uplifting thought… It only took a few more minutes before he finally fell asleep.

Waking up at approximately noon or three in the afternoon, he groaned as his stomach did flip flops. He then regretted every single shot of sake he had partake of as he ran to the bathroom to empty his stomach of every particle of food left undigested from the previous night. His head was raging and he downed a couple of Tylenol before once more resigning to bed. It was either that or take up playing more in the parks and on street corners…

…Sleep seemed like a much better option at the moment.