There was no such thing as absolute freedom in this world.
Even people who claimed to possess absolute riches, and the ability to purchase freedom were slaves to their wealth.
The world is a slave to humans —conquered every piece of nature there was as if we were the owners in the first place.
And as the world was slaves to us, we humans were slaves to free will, constantly chasing the everlasting desire for absolute autonomy.
For absolute glory—free from external control. Free from the chains that shackled us to fate.
We were made to believe the illusion of being our creators of fate. We were slaves to fate.
Mikey, for one, was in a similar position.
He was a slave to his impulses. To his everlasting desires. To his loneliness. To the pursuit of his happiness and others.
He was a slave to eternity.
Although, his version of eternity was found in the bluest hues of the ocean. In the deep, untainted ocean that housed the most beautiful mysteries and irises that Mikey would surrender everything to. He found it in the tears that were cried for the sake of others, the fortitude that defended many in the face of adversity, and the undeterred resolution that carried people through the battleground.
"Anybody can become angry, that is easy; but to be angry with the right person, and to the right degree, and at the right time, and for the right purpose, and in the right way, that is not within everybody's power, that is not easy." So wrote Aristotle, more than 2000 years ago, in his classic work The Art of Rhetoric.
Mikey found himself as a slave to his blue eyes. He was a slave to the pissed-colored hair that lacked toning. The sheepish smiles, the shy gazes, and the purest of hearts.
"Goddamit," Mikey muttered, damned with the epiphany he truly was an enslaved person for him.
And only for him. He realized that it was too late to take it back, to unlearn, to fucking shove it back wherever the fuck it came from.
He realized that he was doomed—as soon as other division members began being chummy with him... with his Mitchy.
Fuck.
*****
"Kenchin," Mikey once asked his tattooed best friend in his home, the latter hummed as a response, seemingly unbothered by the sudden inquiry of his friend. The brothel was quiet that day, so they opted to hang out inside the establishment instead of wandering around under the scorching summer sun.
Draken flipped through the pages of the latest volume of the magazine that showcased the new releases of motorcycles. He scanned every page with much gusto and interest. Engraving in his brain every upgrade, learning which parts are the best for future reference. Learning about motorcycles and working with them were his life, well, besides... you know.
Anyway, he hoped he could have his motorcycle shop one day. Maybe he could ask Mikey about it or perhaps that former black dragon under Takemichi's division, Inupi.
"Kenchin!" Mikey called out once again, the taller blond shifted his gaze lazily at the other. Their commander made a face to which Draken admitted would be the most constipated face he had ever seen Mikey pulled off.
What the fuck is wrong now?
"What's itching your back?" He asked. Mikey groaned, and let himself crash into the mattress. Sprawled out like a starfish that had been washed out upon the shore. He stared at the ceiling, basking under the old fluorescent light that flickered in a momentaneous manner. Wondering if he should tell his best friend about his current situation with ... well, it's not a crush obviously, he's not a high school girl.
Fucking hell, this is so complicated. He thought to himself.
"Oi, Mikey!" Draken called on. Slightly frustrated for getting interrupted with browsing his magazine. Mikey only hummed in response and with his continuous staring contest with the fluorescent light at the ceiling, Draken returned to studying the motorcycles.
Mikey continued to brood over this emotion he kept feeling. The blossoming ache every time he sees someone else with Takemitchy was dull, it was quiet but it was there. The ache almost felt like background music, but the difference was that he didn't like it and it was infuriating him. Had it not occurred in every similar situation, or even more so when the first division captain opted to hang out with his girlfriend instead, which ached pretty sharply almost immediately, he might've concluded that he may have a heart condition.
But, he's healthy. Mikey knew that.
Even though he kept lazing around, and eating dorayaki like holy communion, his activities throughout the day kept him at a healthy peak. Thus, there was no way he'd have a heart condition at his age, and lifestyle.
It could be genetics, though. Maybe he should ask his Gramps when he comes home.
This emotion that he kept having had him preoccupied and driven him restless for consecutive nights. It wasn't the same as the others. Sure, he feels territorial, and if he'd been honest, a little clingy with his friends. He had been like that since the beginning, that's normal. However, the case with Takemitchy is fucking different. He couldn't understand it. He knew the concept of love, how it works, what it looked like, and how it felt. He experienced it before, with his brothers, sisters, Gramps, and his friends.
But why the fuck couldn't he put Takemitchy in the same category? Why are there more categories?
Mikey then realized, what if it's the same with Draken and Emma?
The thought hit Mikey harder than it should.
At first, he was in denial. The thought bothered him slightly—greatly. It wasn't because they were both guys, but instead, Mikey was bothered by the fact that Takemitchy has a girlfriend. Hina-chan is an angel. He couldn't do that to both of them.
Fucking hell.
Mikey knew this was a disaster at the beginning. But he had to brood over it to fucking realize what this goddamn emotion was and now there are consequences. Had he not overthought this or consulted Draken about this, maybe his perception would have remained the same. But no, he had to, and fucking hell, I'm a fucking idiot.
Mikey rarely cussed, but when he did, he knew it was serious.
"I am fucking in love with Takemitchy."
