Sweetness

Jamie and Rin lay in bed together, each of them all of eighteen years old, each of them covered with a light sheen of sweat. Rin was still cuddled around Jamie, his chest pressed against the smaller man's back.

"I'm going to be late to work," Jamie murmured, even though he made no move to leave the bed.

"You're already late," said Rin, tightening his grip around Jamie. "In for a penny..."

"I don't think that's how lateness works," Jamie argued, lamely (Jamie was bad at arguing when he didn't want to win).

"Based on my extensive experience of never having had a job before, I think it totally is," Rin said, and Jamie seemed to agree, because he snuggled even closer.

Rin's cock was nestled in the crack of Jamie's bare ass with their legs braided together. Rin could have stayed here all day; he was sure that something about Jamie's skin was addictive.

Rin may have only been in love because he was eighteen and didn't know any better, but he was still in love.

After a few more minutes intertwined together, Jamie spoke again.

"You're really sure?" Jamie asked, and Rin did not have to ask to what it referred.

"Never been more sure of anything," Rin said. "I've got the car and all the cash I could scrounge. I'll pick you up when your shift ends."

"My shift'll end late if I don't get out of here," Jamie grumbled. With heavy limbs, he began to slip out from within the comfort of Rin's arms.

When he got up he twisted back to see Rin still lying on the bed, staring at him. Jamie bent over the bed, intending to give his boyfriend a quick goodbye-till-later peck.

Rin's arms came up around his neck and Jamie's mouth open and their tongues slid together in a dazzling kiss that left Jamie weak-kneed and growing hard again.

"Say it again," Jamie murmured against Rin's lips.

"I love you," Rin offered.

"Love you too, but that's not what I mean," Jamie said, breaking away regretfully so that he could shrug on jeans and a t-shirt. "Tell me our plan again."

"We're running away, Jamie boy," Rin whispered. Jamie almost laughed with joy at the sound of it. "We're running away together. You won't have to see your mother ever again, or me my father, and they won't have any legal way to get us back. We'll get an apartment together, and work. It won't be perfect, but...but I'll have you. And you've always had me."

Jamie melted a little, even as he rummaged around the mess of clothes on the floor, trying to find his wallet and keys.

"I'll see you after work," he said, bending down for one last kiss that had him yearning for more.

Jamie ran from Rin's room and out to the bus stop. Thankfully the bus was running late too, and the 23 made it to the bakery within five minutes of the beginning of his shift.

Jamie was giddy with anticipation as he worked. He hummed to himself while he cleaned, grinned at all the dishes, and flirted shamelessly with all of the customers. He was an adult now, and he was going to leave. He was finally going to leave.

Rin needed more cash. Jamie had his paychecks and he had his too, but two minimum-wage jobs weren't going to cut it for the beginning. They needed to get far away, and travel wasn't cheap. Then they needed time to get new jobs, and in the meantime they'd need food and enough cash to convince a landlord to get them a lease. Life was a costly, needy operation.

When he left for downtown, Rin hid his form in baggy clothes, his skin with dirt, and his face with a grubby cap. The malls and shopping centers were crowded with the Sunday afternoon throngs, and Rin had skills beyond dishwashing and U.S. history class. Rin had light, nimble fingers, quick enough to lift a wallet, slip out the cash, and return it. He was skilled enough to run a low-risk, slow-burn sort of a theft, and he didn't need much.

Rin did feel regret over the theft, but the twinges of conscience were overwhelmed by his need for the money and the heavy weight of his cynicism. Rin and Jamie weren't idealistic idiots running away for some naïve idea of love. They had tried living as it was, but Rin was running out of skin to bruise. And Jamie...physically Jamie was doing fine, but he was dying, Rin could see it. Rin could see it because he loved Jamie, and Jamie's parents didn't. Even if their relationship didn't last, it would be better that each of them was out of the house, high school or no high school.

They were going to leave tonight; they'd been planning for months now. Rin was going to pick Jamie up in six hours. He just needed an extra few hundred bucks, and he'd be willing to rip off every single shopper in this mall for that.

Rin twirled through the crowds, following slipstreams while his hands executed a complex dance of snatch, retrieve, and return. Rin was a good thief. He just wasn't very good at picking targets. When he saw the Japanese man in the full suit, and slipped his hand into the man's bulging back pocket, he'd expected a fat load of twenties.

He had not expected a gun, and the iron grip on his wrist. The stern Japanese business man had faster reflexes, superior weaponry, and a name that was legend in organized crime.

Rin was caught, trailing after the man as though his hand were still stuck in the crime boss's back pocket. Rin He was caught deeper in this world than a casual pickpocket had ever wanted to go. And he couldn't exactly explain to Mr. Oshiro and company that he needed to leave to pick up his boyfriend.

Jamie waited for hours after his shift, camped out on the sidewalk, with his head in his palms and his phone clutched between his fingers. He called Rin four times and texted him seven times. Then he sighed and took the bus home.

That Sunday Rin's absence hurt like a knife-wound, a sharp throbbing right under his ribs. The pain was so blinding that Jamie barely even noticed his mother's insults and the predatory way that she hugged him, almost as if she knew that she almost lost him. She had not done...that thing in a long time, not since Jamie was so young that his memories blurred, but she still touched him far, far too intimately.

But Jamie couldn't do anything about it, because he was a coward. He was a coward, and he knew he couldn't run away alone. It had been terrifying but worth it with Rin by his side, but without Rin, he barely even felt like the legal adult he knew he was. He knew that his mother would track him down, would use him dropping out as an excuse. He visited Rin's house, but Rin wasn't there anymore—and neither was his father, by the looks of it.

The pain faded, over time, into a lasting dull ache that settled into Jamie's bones. It hurt every morning when he woke up, every night when he went to bed, in his working day and in his dreams. Jamie tried to use other sources of pain, like razor blades and knives, to distract him. But the relief was only fleeting, and the aftermath of the endorphin rush left him more empty than he felt before.

Even without a coping mechanism, even without a boyfriend or an escape, Jamie lasted. He survived his mothers abuse. He survived until he graduated, moved out the old fashioned way, and began to work his way up the culinary ladder. He gained financial independence and then he cut all ties of communication to anyone who shared his last name.

The years grew on Jamie like a callus. Jamie was a marathoner, not a sprinter. It took him time to commit to Rin in the first place, as they made their way shyly together through high school. But he gave his heart away, and that was for forever. Now Jamie could focus on work, studying, travelling when he could, learning by embarrassing himself in front of other, better chefs. He could date sparingly, only to curb his periodic lust. He could bring people joy with the sweet things that he made for them. And that was it.

Mr. Oshiro was charmed by the little pickpocket he had captured. He was charmed by Rin, and he owned Rin. When Mr. Oshiro took someone under his wing, their life changed. Or more specifically, they were pulled from their life and shoved off the high slope of a new one.

Rin's father did not survive Mr. Oshiro learning about the origin of Rin's constant new injuries. Rin moved out shortly afterwards, though he still visited his mother regularly. His mother did not know what Rin did for a living. Sometimes Rin wished that he didn't know either, but he was very good at it.

Rin had a knack for knowing who he should trust and who he should kill. He had the affability and bargaining skills of a natural salesman, and as per Mr. Oshiro's advice he never dabbled in the product. Anything he couldn't do, he trained until he fixed it. Most importantly, Rin kept himself safe with solitude. There were girls who tried to get close—and boys who tried to get close, once they learned Rin's tastes. But it was always understood that, no matter whose company he enjoyed and for however long, when Rin went to sleep, he slept alone. It was so while he worked his way through the top, and it continued as such through the end of Mr. Oshiro's career.

Mr. Oshiro, whose first name Rin never knew and never asked for, did not retire. His was not a position that often led to a peaceful retirement to a nice summer home. After only seven years together Mr. Oshiro was killed by a rival, the head of a faction within the gang who thought that they were ready for new leadership. They got what they wanted, in a way: they got Rin. They got Rin and they either proved themselves loyal or they were killed. That had been over two years ago, and Rin had since presided over a period of prosperity.

Rin's birthday party was meant to be an expression of that. They took out a private room in an exclusive French restaurant and filled it with tables and tables of Rin's workers. They drank wine and gave toasts and gave expensive presents. They were all fine gifts, high-quality watches and ties, new guns and knives, nice things that Rin liked and used. None of them were personal.

After dinner there was cake, dark chocolate mixed with a kick of chili powder in the pastry, drenched in chocolate icing and cinnamon icing red roses. Rin loved the cake, and he loved looking at hardened killers, high functioning addicts, and disgruntled violent teens all moan over a cake.

He called the head server over with a look. She was about his age and blonde, sweet but incredibly tired-looking. No one had been rude (Rin would not have tolerated any rudeness from his underlings), but she had still earned her tip for tonight.

"This is truly splendid," he said. "Would you mind calling the chef out so that I can thank him or her personally?"

"He'll be right out, sir."

The waitress, Alice, took off in her long-legged stride towards the kitchen. It was almost the end of the night, and she was just relieved that the customers were happy. They were a terrifying bunch. It wasn't the obvious weapons, the tattoos, the bulging muscles, or even the barely-veiled references that made it obvious that these were not men or women to be messed with. It was the politeness, especially of the birthday boy. The man at the head of the table, though younger than many of his fellows, was obviously the big man on campus. He was well-spoken and kind, not to mention well dressed and undoubtedly handsome. Alice was terrified of him.

She pushed open the French doors to the busy kitchen, dodging the rushing chefs and waiters and dishwashers to reach the dessert kitchen. Technically, the whole kitchen belonged to Stefan, the executive chef, but this whole domain of fresh-bread and sugar was under Jamie's control tonight.

Alice found Jamie painstakingly folding together the last step for a chocolate soufflé.

"One of the customers wants to thank you," she said, jerking her thumb in the direction of the private room. "The big party, with the pre-ordered cake?"

"Check," said Jamie, spooning the mixture into a ramekin that was already coated with butter and sugar. "Let me just finish this off."

"Got it," said Alice as she prepared to run back out. "But just a warning? I wouldn't keep these guys waiting too long."

Jamie frowned as he slid the soufflé into the oven. He called Kiki over and nodded his head towards the oven.

"Watch this for me, will ya?" he said. "And there was also—"

"I got it, boss," Kiki interrupted. "Go get flattered."

Jamie laughed and straightened out his stained white coat. He loved moving up to a four-star restaurant, working as a real pastry chef with a real pastry kitchen and the chance to innovate. But he missed the customer interaction from working in bakeries and casual cafes. Jamie needed to feed people; he always had. He couldn't help it if he wanted to see them once they were fed.

Jamie wound his way between the chairs, a wiry figure in a dirty apron and clean sleeves. He approached the private room from behind, circling the table to see the man at the head.

When he saw Rin, Jamie just stared. The years had been kind to his ex-boyfriend, filling Rin out with hard muscles to match his height. He still wore his remarkable wavy black hair long, so that it curved around his almond eyes and strong chin. There was more to those eyes than there had been before, Jamie could see it. There was more to Rin than there had been before. Jamie wanted to stare at him long enough to discover what it was.

Then their eyes met. It took Rin only a few moments to notice the white-frocked man in the corner of the room, and much less to recognize him.

Jamie was still slim—Rin didn't know how he'd managed it with his job, but perhaps the small-but-strong muscles shifting beneath the surface of his smooth skin ought to be a bit of an indication. Jamie's lips were still full, his eyes still bright blue and piercing. Rin was bombarded with memories of kissing the sensitive spots on Jamie's neck, and the way that Jamie blushed when Rin touched him, and the way he laughed, and the way he took care of Rin's bruises after his father had hurt him. He also remembered how much he had hurt Jamie the day that he had met Mr. Oshiro.

Rin and Jamie had been frozen, staring at each other, for what could have been part of a second or could have been an hour. Then Jamie turned on his heel and fled.

Rin had to suppress the urge to sprint after him. The room was too crowded to sneak away without making a scene, and Rin did not want to draw attention to Jamie. That wouldn't be safe.

He simply reached out to the waitress again, asked a few questions, nodded, and waited until the party was over. He thanked everyone profusely, and smiled, and refused multiple times to let others pay the bill. He paid Alice, with an 18% tip, and walked out the front of the restaurant.

He then immediately circled around the back to wait, as Jamie's shift should be ending in thirty minutes. According to Alice, a less experienced pastry chef could head up the kitchen late at night, and Jamie was needed mildly early tomorrow to make bread bowls and finish cake orders.

While he waited Rin ran his hands through his hair and checked the fit of his grey pants and white button-down shirt. He hadn't been self-conscious about the way he looked in a long time, but then, he hadn't seen Jamie in a long time either.

He waited out there for forty-five minutes, until Jamie finally poked his head out of the door. He had taken his apron off and stood in skinny jeans and a slim-cut tee, with a backpack thrown over his shoulders. Sure, he had grown up, but in that moment he looked like the same old Jamie. Rin felt suddenly very old.

"Hey," Rin said, because in forty-five minutes of planning he couldn't think of anything better.

Immediately Jamie hunched his shoulders up by his ears and froze. His eyes were wide like a trapped animal's. Rin knew this reaction too well, but he hated to see it in Jamie.

"Why are you here?" Jamie asked.

"I saw you, and...and I wanted to apologize."

"Oh, for which part?" Jamie asked. He let his anger bleed into his voice. "For dumping me, for never explaining why, or for making plans that made me think that my life was getting better only to yank it away?"

"All of it," said Rin. "I am so, so sorry, Jamie."

The wind whipped against them, and Jamie shivered. Even in the warm day he felt like a figurehead on the prow of a ship, buffeted by strong salty waves. He pulled a tattered peacoat from his backpack and put it on, buttoning himself in from hips to neck.

"That's nice," said Jamie. "Now I've got to be going."

He set off resolutely towards his bike, but the sound of Rin's voice easily pulled him back. Jamie cursed his own spinelessness, his lovelorn desperation.

"Can I...can I tell you why, please?" Rin asked.

"Will it help?"

"Jamie, I know I haven't earned this," Rin said, hanging his head. "But will you sit down with me? Come and get coffee with me, or something? Catch up?"

"You're right," Jamie said. "You haven't earned this. You can explain here right now or you can piss off again."

Rin sighed and began, "The day that we were going to leave together, I went downtown to grab a little extra cash by...well, by stealing it."

Rin searched Jamie's face for a reaction and found only the barest hint of surprise. Rin had always been good at reading faces (it was vital in his line of work), but Jamie was doing his best to keep his face thoroughly closed.

"And I happened to steal from the wrong guy. In fact, from the head of an international crime syndicate."

Jamie looked startled, worried, and then blank again. Rin pressed on.

"Mr. Ochiro took me to his house, threatened me, tested me, and found me worthy of teaching. But by doing so, he took me from the rest of my life."

"Did he take your phone, too?" Jamie demanded. "And lock you up for years, without access to the outside world?"

"No," said Rin. "But I...Jamie, I was terrified. I was stupid, and I was just eighteen—"

"So was I."

"Jamie, I thought you'd get killed!" Rin jumped up and advanced close to Jamie, gesturing frantically all the while. "They killed my father because he was getting in my way. Later on someone else killed Mom because they thought it would get to me. I couldn't reach out to you; I couldn't handle it if...what if...what if they killed you too?"

Rin's voice had gone low, hitched like a sob, almost breaking. Part of Jamie wanted to forgive him and kiss it all better. He ignored that part.

"You should have told me," he said. "You should have told me so that I could make the decision with you. Or you can have just talked to me. Even if you didn't explain, you could have said anything. Seriously, anything. Ever."

Jamie gathered speed while he spoke, drawing great gulps of air so that he could speak louder and louder until he was almost yelling. He was also advancing on Rin, circling him a hunter stalks its prey, coming a step closer each time.

"And you...if you weren't so busy being the big dramatic hero of your own personal action movie, then you would have figured that out!"

Jamie was right next to Rin by then, so close he could reach out and grab him if he wanted to.

"You would have figured out," Jamie continued, with a dangerously low voice. "That I was already willing to change my whole life for you, and that I love you, and that you were throwing that away like it meant nothing!"

"You said love," said Rin.

"What?"

"Present tense," Rin said. "Not past tense. Love, not loved. You love me."

"I don't—I..."

"I love you too," Rin said. "Always have, always will."

Rin reached forward and pressed his lips to Jamie's, wrapping his arms around the smaller man's waist and kissing him desperately. Jamie opened his mouth immediately, too dazed by pleasure and long-repressed want to put up a front anymore. Their tongues battled and their hands roamed outside the back of Jamie's restaurant.