Through It All (LevYaku fanfic)

Patience is Love: Chapter 24

Morisuke was already on his way to the elevator when his call was answered. His excited greeting was interrupted when he heard an overly sweet voice on the other side. His left eyebrow rose at that as he pressed the button for the elevator. Hmmm... Was his Tiger cheating on him? Already? His heart told him 'no' and he believed his heart so he was not afraid.

There were a few seconds of glitches in the call when he was in the elevator but he had a general idea of what went on on the other side of the call. The angel on his shoulder told him to hang up since it was Lev's personal discussion with Ryuuki–he was sure it was Ryuuki from the tone of the conversation–but the devil was louder in saying, "listen listen listen. Then let's kill kill kill." Obviously, the devil won.

He quickened his pace and walked into his place just so he can change his turtleneck shirt. He put the phone on loud speaker and lay it down on the table while he undressed and chose his best battle suit. He saw his neck and chest on the mirror. He would have hissed like he did this morning but now, he saw those marks as his best armor for the upcoming battle. So... what do warriors do to their armor? They strengthen it.

He pulled out an open-collared shirt from his closet but his eyes caught sight of his favorite white sleeveless shirt. Oh... oh... brilliant. His shoulders straightened when he heard Lev say, 'We're not in a relationship Ryuu--' and was cut off by the exasperated tone of the other man. It would have been easy for Morisuke to hang up and just be done with it, but no. He had to know who his enemy is. Even if it meant finding information in a not-so-clean way.

He wore the white sleeveless shirt and looked at himself in the mirror, smiling when he realized that the shirt did nothing to hide the marks made by the taller man. He normally wore a button-up shirt over it but tonight, he did not have to. He picked up his go-to bag–a bag he had prepared in case of impromptu plans with friends (This time, it was for Lev)–and his phone, connecting his earbuds to it so he could listen some more.

He had to jog down the stairs of the building, not wanting to miss anything from the very interesting conversation Lev was having with his former flame. He made sure to lock everything before making his way to the café, still intently listening to the conversation in his ears.

'ok. So our arrangement was blurred, but you blurred the boundaries. I told you I-'

Morisuke hands curled into fists as he ran to the café. This man did not deserve his curses? Yeah, right. He was a good man? Sure. Absolutely. Did Yaku Morisuke feel sorry for him? Yes. Will he go easy on the bastard? Says who?

When he opened the café doors, eyes landed on him, and some customers whistled. He knew why. And he was not ashamed nor was he embarrassed. He smiled at the cashier and greeted, "Hello! I hope you're having a great day. I'll have one black coffee, please." With that said, he found the nearest table and took a seat–facing the door which he assumed would be the one that led to the back office.

His heart was beating hard, his face was hot, and his hands were trembling. His mind raced and his blood flowed too fast, too hot for him to be calm. The Yaku blood inside him screamed for death. For pain. For vengeance. But his mother's blood soothed with "kill without tainting your hands with dirty blood."

'Yes, that is true, you love him. Fine, ok. Fine. Let me ask you one last question. Do you love me?'

Morisuke held his breath as he waited for the answer. If he was being honest, he had asked the same question to himself. After all, just as he told Lev, Ryuuki had 6 years under his belt while Yaku had less than a year and three days. He knew he had the losing cards but he refused to fold just because of that. He leaned back on his seat and waited for his coffee to be served. He waved his hand at a customer who came to seemingly flirt with him and tilted his head to show the marks on that area. "Not obvious enough?" he asked, voice colder than the Antarctic.