Carbon Copy - (Z and Artemis only)

"Hey. You don't have to go yet. And you're not bringing drama in. I'm here to listen, you can tell me anything or come to me about anything you'd like, okay? Actually, here." He went into the kitchen and grabbed something from the fridge and brought it back to him. "Here." He repeated. "If you're going to work, can you take this?" It was a bento box. "I made everything in it. I had meant to have it for lunch today,but I forgot it when I headed into work. Can you take it? It won't be good tomorrow, and I'm not going to have it at this point."

It looked very nicem it was wrapped tightly and nicely in beautiful paper and James knew everything in it was kind of thrown together, he didn't take as much time as he should with the organization of it, but he knew it all tasted good.

After Yukito had left, he spent the rest of his night writing a report for class, but he found his thoughts kept slipping back to his friend. He really really liked him, and highly enjoyed the time he spent with him and appreciated the time he spent with him.

Through the following weeks, Yukito came over to his house more and visited him. They talked, but most of their conversations were superficial. They talked about music and Yukitos violin. Movies and books. Through their discussions, James had come to the realization that Yukito is very very smart, no matter how hard he tried to cover it up or hide it.

Very infrequently Yukito would talk about himself. He had told a few things but not anything more than generalized comments. So other than personality and interests, James felt it was almost impossible to get to know him on a personal level. And he felt slightly disenheartened. But despite this, he could still feel his fondness growing more and more toward the boy every minute they spent together. Sometimes he felt the overwhelming urge to just grab Yukito and hold him gently and tell him everything would be okay. He could just tell there was an underlying depression that he would not discuss. And James didn't want to pry. And he didn't want to make him uncomfortable or force him into anything, so he never asked about it or for explanation.

Because Yukito never talked about himself, he rarely asked James personal questions. And James wasn't one to simply talk about himself, so he rarely talked about himself unless otherwise asked. So in turn, Yukito didn't learn as much about James as he otherwise could have had they both been willing to discuss more personal topics.

One day, they were sitting in James living room drinking tea, a few weeks after Yukito had come to his house in the middle of that one school day, they had somehow gotten on the subject of childhood. "Well, actually, I was born in America." James said. "I lived there until I was 13, and was sent to live here. So Japanese is actually my second language. English is my first and I am a legal American citizen." he shrugged. It was an interesting fact, but easily guessable, seeing as he had a different name. With his name ether he was from an English speaking country, or his parents were unusually fond of Western culture.

Visiting James became a more frequent happening for Yukito. He found himself there often, and whenever he did, he felt...accepted. It was a wonderful feeling. He had never realized that it would be so nice to have someone care about him at all. He was comfortable around James, for the most part; it was hard to not slip up about his life though. As much as he wanted to open up more to James, it wasn't safe. He couldn't allow anyone to know.

He sipped his tea, looking at James. He had always wondered about James' background, and was pleased to learn about him, though he was surprised somewhat about his first language being English. Yukito nodded and spoke up.

"I'm not anything special. Just born and raised here"

If anyone could call what he'd been through 'raising', they needed a serious reality check.

"They're teaching us English at the school. I'm...alright with it, I suppose. Very fragmented. I have trouble with the sentence structure, though. They word things in a different order than we do, so it's sometimes difficult to say or write them properly"

He leaned back in his seat and yawned softly. He was worn out. Work at the yard had been more rigorous than usual, and the host club was busier. Thankfully, he had the day off from the yard, but he still needed to work the host club later that night. He would have to go home and prepare soon.

He closed his eyes, losing himself in though. James knew more about Yukito than anyone. His interests. His hobbies. His jobs. How he was a student. He couldn't help but smile at the thought. He had a friend. His only friend. He sat up, glancing at James. The man was so kind to him, even though he knew that Yukito got into fights and wouldn't talk about much of his personal life. Yukito turned his gaze to the floor, nibbling on his lower lip. How could he ever thank James? He had nothing to offer. He barely made ends meet as it was.

"James...?"

He kept his gaze averted. He knew that his expression was a bit pained and sad.

"I....um...thank you...for everything..."

His hands trembled, barely keeping the teacup in them, and his voice was small.

"I...know I can't do much...and I'm not really that interesting.......but...thank you...I......just....I....thank you........"

James looked up at him. "Don't. Please don't. I mean. Don't apologize. I don't do what I do or say what I say for a thanks. I don't deserve a thank you. I don't understand why you are thanking me. All I am doing is treating you like a person. That's not a reason to thank me. Please. Don't. It makes me... sad. It makes me sad to think that me simply treating you like a person is a reason to thank me. It makes me wonder how you've been treated your life and how you...." He hesitated. "Never mind. Just please. Never thank me for proper hospitality." He said, scooting back a bit and shaking his head.

The boy was so strange. He had always said weird things and thanked him for literally nothing. For the proper hospitality of a host. For being a friend. Everything James did that he saw as commonplace seemed to come as amazement for his young friend.

And that did worry James. As he had said, how was he treated that simply treating him as a person brings tears to his eyes and makes him thank James as such? Why does he get so overwrought by simple gestures, ones that any decent friend would and should make?

James sipped his tea again. It was a normal, lovely late afternoon. He had all his homework finished and his own finals were coming. He didn't work for 3 days and was worried he would be bored. He knew he wouldn't see his friend as often as he'd wish and he would grow bored over the next few days simply because they were supposed to be study days for finals.

He never knew what to say in those kinds of situations. He would apologize or thank James for something, and be promptly told he didn't need to and shouldn't be doing such things. It didn't really make any sense to him. He'd grown up with the idea that one should always apologize for mistakes and give thanks for any form of kindness. And he did those things, with the exception of the attitude he had to present at school to keep suspicions away from him. He set down the cup on the table after he drank the last of its contents, fidgeting and avoiding eye contact.

"I'm sorry.....ah! Sorry! Eh! Sorry!"

He clapped his hands over his face with an embarrassed groan. He was so stupid. He was trying to apologize and then corrected himself by apologizing for his mistake, and then apologized again for apologizing, and it was a sort of never-ending cycle.

"I'm...really bad at this..."

He frowned, lowering his hands only enough to be able to look at James apologetically.

"I should probably go soon. I need to get ready for work, and I'm sure you have better things to do than sit around with me and ability to screw up at every turn and be worthless and make you worry about all my bruises and be sad because my life is so fucked up that I can't even act like a normal person..."

He froze, his eyes getting wide with a sense of panic. His throat tightened, the breath caught in it, making it impossible to breathe. He'd let his feelings get the better of him. He'd slipped a little. He'd had a moment of weakness. Oh gods. What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to cover up his words to something that recovered the situation? How was he supposed to get James to forget what he'd just said. Fight or flight kicked in. He bolted to his feet and turned to leave, walking quickly towards the door, still unable to breathe, trembling. What was he supposed to do?

"S-sorry! I-I have to go!"

What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to do? James had seen the moment of weakness. Yukito had felt so comfortable that he hadn't guarded his thoughts well enough and just let his words run away from him.

Oh gods, it was over. James was going to figure everything out and then the police would get involved and his life would become hell and then James would get hurt and Yukito would never be able to forgive himself for being even more of a fuck-up than he already was. His chest was tight - too tight. He couldn't breathe. The door seemed so far away. His backpack felt so heavy. It felt like the walls were closing in on him.

James had watched and listened to his friend and became astounded at the words that came out of his mouth. Eventually he had said the last bit and began freaking out. James was worried about him. He knew something was up, and it was clear that he was being abused. He thought he was some sort of a fuck up because he didn’t feel like he fit in with other people.

Someone treated him so poorly that he had gotten to the point he thought he did something wrong. He probably thought he deserved it. James wasn’t dumb, he had read plenty in his life and knew a lot. He had known from the beginning that Yuki was being abused, but he didn’t press him on the matter. He wouldn’t.

He hoped, someday, if he ever became close enough to him, that he would be able to help him. He would be able to move in with James and James could watch over him and protect him. He wanted so much to help him. But he’d always seemed so strong. James was surprised and slightly amazed that he actually wasn’t as strong as he pretended. This meltdown proved that- it was all an act. It was such a good act- that even James had believed it. Now he was more worried than ever.

But he couldn’t say that. Or mention it. Right now the boy was triggered to a flight response to the situation, he was trying to leave. He didn’t want him to, he was worried about him. But he couldn’t make him stay by saying he felt bad for him or he was scared for him. The only thing that would make him stay at this point would be relatability.

But James couldn’t relate to that exact situation. He had never been abused. He didn’t have anything to prove in this situation that he wouldn’t call the police or demand to meet his family or follow him to work. He did, however have….

He stood up slowly, facing his friend. “Wait. Please don’t.” He said. He had something he’d never told or shown him before. He turned around, showing his back to him. He lifted his shirt then, pulling it up over his shoulders. He held his shirt there as he began to speak. With his shirt lifted, it was the first time Yuki had seen his bare back. There was a long, horrible scar stretching diagonally across his back. It was an awkward scar, gnarly and obviously not from a hospital or surgery.

“When I was 13, a drunk driver hit the vehicle my mom and me were in. I don’t remember it. But I woke up in the hospital and in a lot of pain. I kept asking for my mom, but they refused to tell me anything.” He dropped his shirt, turning back around to face his friend. “Something hit my spine, and they thought I wouldn’t walk. I couldn’t feel my legs. Finally, they told me my mom hadn’t survived the accident. And after months of recovery, I found I could walk again. They had misdiagnosed where my spine had been struck and thankfully in the long run the only lasting injury I have is the scar.”

“I’d never met my father before. But I managed to get in contact with him. He paid for all my hospital bills and physical therapy and he paid for my mom’s funeral. Then he paid for a one way ticket to Japan and promised me a lifetime of money….. Provided I never contacted him again and never came back to America.” The last part was said more quietly, embarrassed to admit the deal.
He sighed, sitting back down on the couch, talking to the ground too timid to look up at his friend to see if he was listening. “We all have pain… Some people’s pain is different. Some may have similar pain. But we all… Have scars. We have things that make us who we are and shape us to who we become… And it’s what we let that life shape us into that we become. You’re not fucked up. You’re not a bad person. You’re unique. You have individual pain that makes you who you are. And you persevere. That’s who you are. A survivor. I think you’re a great person. And I am glad to spend my time with you. If I could spend every day with you, I would be the happiest man with the most accomplished life….”

He didn’t know what else to say. That was really all he had… And there was his biggest secret. He had plenty of friends here in Japan, but none of them knew the real reason he had moved there. None asked. So he didn’t tell. He had… Wanted Yukito to know though. And he hoped, that he would be able to relate, somewhat, and perhaps not be scared of James, not be scared of their friendship and what they could be if Yuki could only stop hiding. James was done hiding. He wanted to be real with Yuki. He wanted Yuki to know the real him, to decide to stay on his own. To… take James as he was. Not who he pretended to be.

It was too far away. The door was too far away. He wouldn't make it. He couldn't make it. He was too sluggish and panicky and everything around him was chaotic. He swayed, stumbled, and dropped onto his hands and knees. James called out to him. He heard the voice through the fog of panic, and turned his head to look. Through the fog and the tears pouring down his face, he could see it. That jagged, horrible scar. It pained him to see it.

His lungs started to open up a bit as he stared at it and listened to James speak. His voice was soothing, and Yukito found himself calming down the longer James spoke, even though the things about the accident and his father still made Yukito sad. He frowned. Why would James want to see him? Why would he be so happy to see him? Why was he even worth James' time?

Yukito found himself staring at the floor, a slight blush on his cheeks. No one had ever said they wanted him around. No one had ever told him he wasn't fucked up and that he was a great person.  He'd heard similar things from people, but never with sincerity. Mostly teachers trying to convince him to behave in school and care about his homework, or girls trying to see what it was like to get with a "bad boy".

An odd feeling spread through his body, almost like a painful warmth in his chest that expanded and made him feel....safe? He didn't understand it. He just knew that he had heard the sincerity and care in James' voice, and he wanted to hear more of it. He wanted to spend more time with James. The months of spending time with him had made him feel better than he'd ever been. He was accepted as he was. Could he trust James with his secrets? He wasn't sure. He wanted to be able to finally tell someone about it...but it wasn't safe. People would get hurt. It was too dangerous to let it out yet. Not until he was officially an adult and on his own and had all of his father's debts payed off.

He pushed to his feet, turning to fully face James with a frown. The man seemed...sad inside. It bothered Yukito. He hated to see it.

"What happened....the...accident...and your father...I'm sorry...you didn't deserve that..."

His chest hurt. Sadness welled up in him. He didn't want that for James. The man was too kind. Too caring. Too wonderful. How had Yukito gotten so lucky as to meet him? Of all people, he was the least deserving of someone who cared. Tears still trickled down his cheeks, even as he crossed the room towards James. He reached where the man stood, standing right in front of him, close, and leaned his forehead against James' chest. He did nothing beyond that. He just stood there, head against James' chest, the tears dripping to the floor. His voice was soft, barely audible.

"Let me stay like this...just for a little while.......please..."

He didn't want James to see his crying face anymore. And he didn't know what to do. He didn't even understand why he was doing what he was doing. He just...wanted to. It felt right. A blush crept to his cheeks. Whatever he was feeling, it was just...nice - frightening, but nice. James' chest was warm. Safe. Comforting. He wanted to stay there. And he prayed that James would let him, at least for a little while...

Reference Image:

James had been surprised the boy wanted contact. That he’d touch James, that he’d rest his head on him, that he wanted physical contact. James had always seen him as someone that had a large bubble, and James always tried hard to make him comfortable. After he rested his head on James’ chest James sat still for a minute. Then he slowly wrapped his arms around him and held him to his chest on the couch. He kissed the top of his head and laid his head against Yukis.

He held him like that then, for who knows how long. It seemed like an eternity but then it seemed like it was up in a second, James wanted more, he wanted to hold Yuki like this for always. He always wanted to be there with and for him.

But Yuki had lifted his head off James’ chest finally, and James loosened his hold on Yuki, still with his arms embracing him lightly. He held him gently and said, “Are you okay?” He had said it quietly, almost a whisper. He didn’t want to disturb the moment they were spending together, a tender, almost intimate moment. He smiled down at him, wanting more to kiss the soft hair on the top of his head, but not wanting to scare Yuki away. In truth, he could get by just as well simply holding him like this.

Spoiler:

Acceptance. Complete and total acceptance. That's what James was. Yukito stood in James' embrace for an amount of time he cared not to place. It was...nice. Warm. James was warm. Comforting. Yukito lifted his head at last to give him an appreciative smile. His voice, though still small, held a lot of emotion to it, more than James would usually have heard from him.

"Thank you, James....for everything..."

He brushed the last of the tears from his cheeks by wiping them on the sleeves of his uniform.

"I'm alright now"

He stood there still, just smiling. He couldn't recall ever feeling so at peace with himself. It was like having stepped into a new world - like James' home was a new world. It was a place where he was safe. He was cared about. His life mattered. He wished he didn't have to leave. But he had to get ready for work soon. He didn't have to work at the Yard, but the Host Club was open like always and needed him on its floor...and he needed the money from working it. With a soft breath, he finally stepped free of James' embrace.

"I need to get going. I have to shower and change before I head to work"

He glanced away, nibbling on his lower lip and fidgeting nervously.

"If you want...you can come see me tonight...I'll make you some really delicious tea...and play my violin for you...if you like.."

Yukito hoped James would come. He wanted him to come. He enjoyed when James came to see him at work. It made his life less...empty.

James was falling into this warm, dark world. He was at peace, completely comfortable with Yukito here, in his arms. He wouldn't change it for the world. He could stay here like this forever, he thought. But of course that couldn't happen. All too soon, it seemed, Yuki pulled away from James and James moved to gaze at him as he spoke. He listened gently and soon a smile took his face.

"Of course I will visit you. I would love to. And if you would like to play your violin, I would more than love to hear it." He said. "I have never heard a more beautiful sound than when you play. I am stunned every time." He said truthfully.

He moved to sit upon the couch again. "You know, you should leave changes of clothes at my house here so you can shower and change here so that you don't have to worry about going home before work." He suggested.

"But yes. I will see you tonight, for sure. I'll try to come by around... 10?" He offered. He wasn't sure if that was an appropriate time, hopefully it was. He hoped it would be. He didn't even mind paying at the club or spending large sums of money. He was just happy to see Yuki. He would pay any amount necessary to see him or hear his violin. Of course having tea with him sounded very nice as well. But he didn't really care what they did, as long as it could be together.

He wanted to be there for him. He wanted to prove that he could be there for Yuki. But he wasn't sure how to. He wanted to help him. Half the time, he wanted to steal him away, keep him forever and watch over him. But.... he couldn't. He was still a high schooler. He couldn't take him from his family... He'd have the cops after him in a second. But James was fairly certain that he could have the cops in turn back after whomever had been abusing the boy only a moment later.

He just wanted to be with him. He just wanted Yukito to be happy.

He likes my violin......he...he likes my violin!

Yukito didn't know what to say. It made him practically beam that James liked his music. He had worked so hard to be able to play, even when he had been injured. He'd practiced and practiced, even when his father beat him hard enough that his arms had been broken. The momentary thought of his father made him cringe and frown, but he shook it off moments later.

"I-I'm glad you like it...I've been playing ever since I could get my hands on a violin"

He'd gone without food for a full week, and eaten as little as possible for several more just to afford it.

"I just love classical music...it's so beautiful....well, I mean, you already knew that, but...yeah..."

The offer to shower and change made the tiniest flush of pink bloom to his cheeks. It was a nice thing for James to offer. He wanted to take him up on it; he wanted to stay for that little bit longer. Yukito shyly toyed with a strand of his hair, tugging on the black strands just slightly. They were getting long. He needed a haircut. Should he stay and clean up? Would that be okay? He thought back to the last time he'd had to wear James' clothing; it had been too big on his malnourished frame. But he wanted to stay.

"I...er...do you...have anything smaller than the sweatpants...that I wore when I was sick...? They were...a bit big..."

He glanced away, nibbling on his lip. But then James said he was going to come see him at work...


Yukito paused. James was going to come see him. Wanted to come see him. 10pm. Right away when Yukito would be finished preparing the cakes and other desserts in the back and would be on the floor for service. His eyes lit up, and for the first time, James would get to see the brightest, most genuine smile Yukito had ever given...

"Really? I'm so glad..."

Yuki's Expression: