Host bar // kazuscara

5

Friday seemed to pass by on a whim, each hour felt like seconds. 

When the albino roused himself from sleep on a Saturday morning, he's greeted by the once again cloudy scenery of Tokyo from the height of his apartment. Checking the time, he realized he has been dead-asleep until the unholy hour of 10 A.M . During which he'd be much better off juggling different client reports than sleeping. He sighed, dragging himself out of the comfort of his bed. 

His head spun, for some goddamned reason; he couldn't decipher exactly why. Taking a sip of his daily morning coffee that he is addicted to and once tried to quit, he abruptly stopped. And like the breakaway of a longstanding dam, the memories of the night before flooded his mind; the intention to drown him from within.

Blaring, flashing lights; horrid rock music; unclear intentions, amongst all to make Scaramouche look more attractive. Those who Kazuha has ever loved in his life were all one gender and one gender only---female. But yesterday was probably one night to cause a crack in that firm wall separating his sexuality made out of glass. He wasn't one to accept the fact that he liked rough; careless men out of all the beautiful women he could pull out of the streets of Tokyo, yet fact spoke to him that he indeed spent obscene amounts of cash just to entertain Scaramouche and send waves of dopamine across his body with a simple smile from him.

Perhaps he was too scared he would leave him for his other clients; who'd obviously provide him with more money than he could ever. Who could blame him? With no friends and no one to talk to in this busy world, only someone as understanding as Scaramouche could caress his severed heart; only someone as sweet as Scaramouche could talk with him about anything from dawn to dusk. Oh, how he yearned for such motherly love since parting his ways with his mother after high school.

Now at the mediocre age of 25, it's been seven years since he and his mother were separated due to her marriage contract with a man who's rich enough to be able to sustain our lives. She promised to return to visit Japan once she is happily installed in the comfort of receiving monthly allowances from the man, and send money back to Kazuha so he doesn't have to bear the stress of working for his student loans and studying at Tokyo University. 

That never happened. Not even a slight hint of her even still well and existing. After her last message of her being dropped off at Tokyo airport, nothing comes after that. That message was the final mark of her mother ever being present in his life ever again; no transactions of money, no messages asking how he's doing, no calls ever picked up after that day. Despite juggling work, school alone, he also has to bear the constant downgrading of his rare condition; albinism. His hair is completely white, every inch of his fur is nothing but pure white. Compared to the dark, lively color of black his schoolmates have, he is instead gifted with the keys to the perpetual mocking of his unusual looks. 

He grunted, clearly in distress. Why won't Scaramouche forget about his clients and come talk to him instead, like the first time they have met? Why does he worry about them so much? Is it because he likes them more than him? That would obviously make sense, they're both men, after all. What he really enjoys is probably the sweet touch of women, not the rough grasp of men. Kazuha himself would also hate it if a man starts appearing in his life, fending off your customers one by one; scaring off golden wallets like it's nothing.

What has he done in peculiar yesterday, aside from keeping Scaramouche from going anywhere else? He tried to recall. Perhaps, the sweet tone of his laughs, his seductive eyes when he looks at Kazuha, the way he plays around with his glass of whiskey from time to time. All the pleasing memories from yesterday flew around his mind like butterflies, sending intense shockwaves of adrenaline across and circulating his body. 

He banged an arm on the wall, keeping himself from collapsing to the floor. His face was hot as the stove, his heart beating faster than his figure could withstand; giving the illusion of it thumping against the walls of his insides. Whatever spell Scaramouche has cast on him to fall so helplessly inside his trap, it sure works more than just a charm. 

He knows what he so desperately desires now. 

He loves Scaramouche. No, perhaps that's overboard.

He wants Scaramouche. 

No one is allowed to touch Scaramouche like how he touches him. No one is allowed to look at him like how he looks at Kazuha. No one is allowed to flirt with him like how he flirts with Kazuha. To protect him from the danger of others, he is not allowed to serve anyone else other than Kazuha. He will protect Scaramouche from the cruel society. Anything to not watch him fall into the hands of someone else. 

He slapped himself across the face. 

He can't do that. He can't gatekeep someone like that, only insane people do so. Scaramouche is free, he is free to do whatever he wants; free to be whoever he wants. He's a host, hosts are supposed to look like they are in a relationship with anyone who sparks an interest in him, Kazuha's not the only client that he has and will ever serve. The truth slapped across his face.

"FUCK!" he wailed, and plopped face-down on his sofa. 

A cry of his helplessness, one to have fallen so hard with no hope of climbing back up again. Like having a taste of a drug for the first time, he already cannot bear life without Scaramouche. 10 hours until the host bar opens back up again, he thought to himself. I want to go see Scaramouche again so badly. he rolled over on the sofa so his front was facing upwards. 

He wishes that he has never met Scaramouche this way. 

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Kinda lost motivation in this chapter but its kind of an insight on why Kazuha just fell in love with Scaramouche instantly. Also pls don't think my writing is good I'm just trying to hit 1k words per chapter idk why anything lower than that is failure number

1093 words