Sleeping With Money (MewGulf AU)

🌞Chapter 6🌻

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Mew calmly lifted his whisky glass to his lips and took a slow sip, glancing seductively at Gulf.

"Yep," he said. "Been a long time, Gulf. But when we met at Rachan's you totally ignored me."

"Rachan's?" Gulf echoed.

Did Rachan owe money to Mew, too?

"After all these years, you still look at me with such complete disgust. I feel hurt," Mew went on.

"Huh, what are you saying?! You bastard!" Gulf snarled.

They had always talked to each other like this from the very first moment they'd met. Now Mew seemed to be enjoying Gulf's foul mood.

"Glad I came back to Japan because I got to see you again, Gulf," Mew said. "I still dream about your eyes. Meeting you again like this, after so long. Is it a gift from the heavens or the whim of the gods?"

"Hah?!" Gulf croaked, looking suspiciously at Mew.

They hadn't seen each other since high school graduation. After that. Gulf had never known, nor even cared, where Mew was.

Now he was trying to crack Mew's skull open. It was a fitting reunion, at least. But when Gulf tried to stand up, his knees gave out from under him. He let Mew put him back on the stool, all the while telling himself this jerk would be running home to mommy right now. If only he wasn't drunk, that is.

"You okay?" Mew asked, his hands still around Gulf's waist. "Your body's as fit as ever."

Gulf felt uneasy. It wasn't right for a man to touch him like that.

Mew kept on smiling. Gulf wondered how he could be so calm in the presence of a Yakuza.

Bastard!

During their school days, Mew was Gulf's kendo rival, but they had only met at regional competitions. Gulf went to a bad school, while Mew attended a top prep academy, guaranteed to get him into a good university. Gulf had instantly hated the excellent students and their privileged upbringings.

Why couldn't I beat this guy?

Thinking back, Gulf recalled his anger as if it had been yesterday.

Mew returned Gulf's glare with inviting smile, like one you might give a girl you were interested in.

What the hell is this guy thinking?

Just as Gulf was about to unleash another round of expletives, Mew started to talk.

"I don't mind you looking at me like that. But continue your story if you want. I'm interested. I can tell just by looking that you didn't become an honest man. What happened to your promise to Rachan??"

He looked eager to hear more, but Gulf cut the conversation short with a sullen look and curt reply. "Nothing happened."

Mew looked confused, "Huh?"

"That's it," Gulf said. "My body got better and so did my mind. I forgot all about my promise to that old man."

The truth was he would never forget Rachan's parting words:

"If you ever have no place to go, you can always come to me. I'll train you."

Today he went to Rachan's factory.

Gulf had no home and no family, so the factory had been somewhere he could always go to, an emotional means of support. Whatever happened, whatever he lost, at least he had a place that would always welcome him, no queations asked. Knowing that, he had felt he could so anything. And he kept on believing that, even after he started his Yakuza life.

But, truth be told, the honest part of his life had been just an illusion. As he dove deeper and deeper into the underground world, his soul became dirtier and dirtier. Before he knew it, he had stopped going to Rachan's factory. Respectable people lived there. It was no longer a haven for him.

Rachan had completely forgotten about Gulf. That should have been a relief, but instead he was annoyed. It really pisses him off. He couldn't help but feel lonely, like the world had rejected him. Something was still left in his heart.

"So you felt sad and turned to the bottle, huh? It won't help you, but it's kinda cute," Mew said.

"Huh? I never said I was depressed!" Gulf protested.

"That's what you wanted to say, though," Mew retorted. "You're drunk and emotional, just longing for someone to listen to you."

Not mocking him anymore, Mew poured some expensive Hennesey into Gulf's glass in an attempt to humor him.

Mew was definitely making him mad. But the alcohol was free, and it'd be a shame to waste it.

Gulf chugged down his glass. The warm liquid burned his belly. He felt his consciousness slipping even further away.

"So what did you do?" Mew prompted. "Finish the story. What will you do about the collection?"

Mew's voice sounded far away. Though the world was furiously spinning around him, he still wanted to talk. And as if the alcohol was a truth serum, Gulf obediently answered.

"I can't tell the president I couldn't get it. The big shots expect us to obey. You can't get caught up to your own feelings, or they'll chop off a finger."

"A finger?" Mew echoed.

Gulf held up his hands. He still had all his fingers. And he didn't have a tattoo. Still, going against a Yakuza boss was not a good idea. He had already been beaten up a number of times.

Mew smiled down at him. "So why don't you leave? I'll help you out. Do you have the note for Rachan's place?"

Gulf pulled out the promissory note from his pocket. He hated to betray someone who had helped him. If there was any way out of this mess, he wanted to hear it.

Mew instantly touched his lighter to the note as Gulf held it. Gulf watched with astonishment as the paper caught fire.

Huuuuh?

Finally wrenched out of his dream-like state, Gulf gaped at his burning fingers.

"OUCH!" he yelled. He'd let go of the note just a second too late. It quickly turned to ashes.

"There you go," Mew said. "All gone now. Here, drink."

While Gulf looked bewildered, Mew just laughed and shrugged his shoulders. Gulf felt himself melt when he gazed at Mew's profile, but that handsone face couldn't deceive him.

"Dammit! That was worth six million. Without it, they wouldn't get a single penny.

Gulf felt like screaming, but Mew chuckled again. His laugh have been contagious for Gulf also started to cackle.

It's gone.

One simple act had completely wiped out his problem. It was so weird. He couldn't stop laughing like an idiot.

That was the last thing he remembered from the night.

TBC