A Drunk Potion

It was an illuminating experience. A last-minute invitation which he had agreed to, despite his better judgement.

The student haunt was raucous, dingy and had more energy than all the celebrity clubs which he frequented combined.

Takumi shouldn't be here. If Nishioka or Ogita or any of his handlers found out, he would be a carcass in waiting.

But if the agency wanted him to showcase a normal life, shouldn't they condone this excursion?

He laughed and took another sip from his drink.

"What's so funny?" one of his acquaintances asked.

"Nothing," Takumi said. "Interesting place."

"Yeah! A dump but the hunting's good," another ass commented.

"Don't see anyone on your arm yet, man."

"Night's young."

"Do you really need to get these security guys standing around us?"

"What? Gotta exert some quality control on who gets to party with us."

"With Matsumoto here, we're sorted!"

Arrogant. Offensive. And Takumi had thought that HE was out of touch with reality.

But he held onto his non-committal smile.

As it turned out, most students didn't require much convincing to join their table. He had to admire the group's taste. Varied and gender-neutral. The only prerequisite quality was beauty.

Many tried to flirt with him to test the waters. No one asked to take a picture together because it was a known fact that he didn't agree to any with anyone outside a photo shoot or media appearance.

Takumi was courteous and polite. He kept his hands to himself.

Despite his act of rebellion, he was cognizant that there were bound to be photos appearing the next day in the gossip pages.

If it were that simple. The real reason was worst.

Takumi didn't like to be touched.

He simply couldn't be touched.

What was he doing here then?

Searching for trouble?

Trying to test the cliff he was hovering over always?

Wanting to see if he could function like a normal human being?

He finished another drink.

xxxxxxxx

Akira heard retching in one of the cubicles as he washed his hands.

Someone must have gone way over his limit, which was to be expected.

The club, overloaded with hormones and youthful desire, stripped away inhibitions. A few people gave him their numbers and a couple offered more.

Akira was no stranger to the occasional casual fling but he was not particularly in the mood.

There was also an uproar tonight in one of the so-called VIP sections. Apparently, the model had made an appearance.

What was his name again?

Matsumoto Takumi.

In any case, he was ready to call it a night, despite his friends' protests that it was too early.

Akira was going to leave the restroom to head home when a figure stumbled out of the cubicle.

He froze in surprise.

Not that the stranger even noticed. He seemed to be drowsy and was barely holding his weight standing against the basin.

"Shit," he whispered. Sweat against that porcelain skin. A shudder in his shoulders. His trembling hands managed to fish out a phone from his jacket's inner pocket.

He struggled to even unlock the phone. The hands shook too much. His consciousness slipping.

"Fuck!"

Akira caught him reflexively before he collapsed onto the floor like a rag doll.

Eyes looked up at him with horror as realization struck that someone else was in the restroom.

"You..who.." he struggled.

"Who do you need to call? What's the number?" Akira asked.

"I..don't know."

This wasn't just a drunk student passing out. The signs of being drugged were clear. Disorientation and confusion.

Akira could have just ignored him. Surely someone, or rather almost everyone, would take care of him.

Then again, Akira could never turn away from anyone who was defenseless and vulnerable.

He couldn't leave him here alone.

He pushed him to sit against the nearest wall and went to lock the restroom's door.

"What are you.." Panic. Fear.

"Shut up. I'm helping you," Akira said tersely. He dug for a cap in his bag and slapped it on the guy's head. At least the clothes were dark and almost normal tonight.

Akira grabbed his chin and forced the other man to look at him.

"Listen. There is an emergency exit nearby. Avoids the crowds and front door. We need to get there. Got it?" he enunciated each word slowly and crisply.

A blink and then a nod.

"Get up," Akira ordered and stood, hauling the body against him.

He had to give the man credit because even in his state, he was trying to pull his own weight. When Akira unlocked the door, there was thankfully and shockingly no one outside.

They dragged themselves along a narrow hallway to the exit. Akira kicked it open and it led to an alley.

The main road was just ahead.

By now, the weight against him was getting heavier.

"Fuck," Akira muttered and hailed a cab by the road.

The cab driver gave him a knowing and amused glance in the rear view mirror.

"Where are you heading, young man?"

Akira gave his address.

"Big night?" the cab driver chuckled. "Your friend must have had a good one."

Akira glanced at the head slumped against his shoulders. Underneath the cap, he could see Matsumoto Takumi's lips, which were surprisingly full.

A face that was so well known. A complete stranger.

"Yeah," he replied.