Chapter Text
It should’ve been a regular commute home, just like any other day. Senkuu should’ve left work at six, taken his usual train back, and been home by seven.
...but his usual commute would have to wait; he needed some unusual materials for his next experiment that were only found in the opposite direction of his apartment.
The Sixth Ward, to be precise, a part of the city where the buildings meant for visiting were covered in shiny black glass, and the buildings meant for living were crumbling on the pavement; where girls waited at the curb for no one in particular, and stragglers clumped together between buildings, shadows purposely obscuring any distinguishing features.
Senkuu was horribly out of place here; he hurried through the busy streets, shoulders hunched and face down, hoping no one would look twice. His hands were shoved in his pockets, less to keep them warm from the chilly mid-winter air, and more to keep himself compact, together. Momentum was key.
A strangled cry from one of the alleys stopped him in his tracks, though, and the uneven hair that he spotted sealed his fate. A large hand dragged the man back inside the building from which he had just escaped and slammed the door closed behind him, leaving a puff of breath-vapor behind.
Senkuu glanced up at the sign of the building.
The Wishing Well was spelled out in gold flashing letters, bordered by a choppily-animated coin flipping through the air. Senkuu swallowed.
It was basically a new-age slave market, one of many that had gained notoriety over the last few decades. They were dangerous and staunchly ignored by most of the city’s officials. The last city council member who spoke out about it, a confident, newly-elected woman, had turned up dead in her home less than a week later.
It was ultimately deemed to be suicide.
Senkuu allowed his legs carry him inside before his brain had the chance to take over. Materials could wait.
///
It wasn't even ten o'clock, and Senkuu had just dropped over 10 million yen.
He was escorted into one of the back offices immediately after the bidding (but not before the staff confirmed that he didn't intend to make any more purchases. Senkuu could've hurled at the thought).
The long hallway was dimly lit and unnervingly quiet, sleek black doors lining along each side. Senkuu realized that they'd covered every inch of the back with soundproofing materials.
Outside a handful of the doors lurked what seemed to be body guards, each roughly the size of a fridge. Every time Senkuu walked past one, they looked him up and down and got hints of a smile on their faces. Senkuu just set his jaw and kept moving.
Momentum was key, after all.
When the woman guiding him finally opened a door, Senkuu was surprised to find a truly unassuming-looking office. He had no idea exactly what he expected to see — a torture chamber? No, of course they wouldn't show the ugliest stuff to the clients.
Every part of the building was meant to intimidate, though. The chairs sat just a little too low against the tables, the lights were just a little too dim. The complete lack of ambient noise was beginning to make Senkuu feel a little like a caged animal.
He raced through the remaining paperwork as fast as he could after making a quick call to his bank to confirm rerouting the absurd amount of money. They hesitated slightly, and Senkuu briefly wondered whether or not they knew exactly where this money was going. Even if they did, they most likely wouldn’t do anything about it; Senkuu was fairly wealthy, after all, so this wasn't completely out of the blue. It was almost an expected behavior of those with capital, like buying designer drugs or a private jet, except this time he was acquiring an entire human being.
It took a little time for them to prepare Gen, so Senkuu was forced to sit in the dimly lit back room, his nose twitching at the faint scent of cigarettes and disinfectant, his leg bouncing anxiously. He hoped Gen was cooperating, for his own sake.
When Gen was finally dragged through the door, flanked by two large men (which seemed highly unnecessary, considering that even Senkuu could incapacitate him at the moment), Senkuu felt like he had just been ejected into the cold, airless abyss of space. It was completely different from seeing him up on a stage, the lights washing him out and cigar smoke blurring his skin; here, Senkuu could see the freshness of his wounds, every vibrant bruise like a neon sign on his pale, grayish skin.
Tears leaked from the corner of his blackened eye. Gen reflexively tried to blink them away, but his eyelids were too swollen to fully close. His pupils were dazed and unfocused, his head lolled to one side slightly. His bloodstream was probably saturated with drugs right now; they’d gotten him doped up so that he would be docile for handling and transportation.
The sight of this normally proud person beaten down into submission and servitude had Senkuu’s stomach churning. If Gen hadn't been up and limping around, Senkuu would’ve guessed he was a day too late; Gen looked dead on his feet.
Before Senkuu could say anything, the man standing to the right of Gen grabbed Gen by the scruff of his neck and forced him forward so that he was bent at the waist. Gen’s stringy black hair hung in front of his face, obscuring his expression. “Thank you for your kindness. I belong to you now, so please take good care of me.” His scratchy voice came out stinted, distant.
“Sure,” Senkuu muttered, hoping beyond hope that his voice didn't waver too much and give his discomfort away, not when he had already come this far. “Let’s go.”
///
They took one of the company’s courtesy cabs back to Senkuu’s place, as he had arrived by train. The driver offered Senkuu champagne when he first got in, to ‘celebrate his purchase’. Senkuu managed to hold back a grimace and promptly declined, so the ride back was completely silent.
Gen was slumped back in his seat like a puppet without strings, his arms hung haphazardly at his sides. When Senkuu glanced over at him, Gen’s one usable eye stared straight ahead but held no life behind it. His mouth gaped loosely open too, and Senkuu felt panic rise in his chest for a few seconds when he couldn't see Gen breathing at all, terrified that he didn’t just die in the seat next to him, but finally felt his heart rate stabilize when he spotted the subtle rise and fall of Gen’s bruised chest.
Shit, how many drugs did they have him on?
Whatever it was, his motor skills were severely affected. Gen was hardly able to hold himself upright, so it was up to Senkuu to get him up the front steps. Senkuu cursed whichever designer decided that ten rough, uneven steps were at all practical. He wasn't very strong himself, so the trek up to his front door, one arm tucked around Gen’s waist so he didn't topple over, was ridiculously difficult.
Once Senkuu got Gen into the guest room, he decided to put in an IV — he would need a few blood samples from Gen and might need to quickly get medications into Gen's bloodstream in the next few hours.
Within five minutes, Senkuu was wracking his brain for any other option.
Despite his previously lethargic deposition, the sight of the needle frightened Gen almost to the point that Senkuu called it quits. Gen never tried to hit Senkuu or hurt him to avoid the injection, but he quickly found a spot tucked away between the wall and Senkuu's desk where he curled himself into a ball, shaking arms clutched tight to his chest.
For nearly fifteen minutes Gen tried to turn himself further and further away from Senkuu in that little corner, casting frightened glances with his one good eye back at him.
Finally, Senkuu decided to put the syringe away and just focus on getting Gen out. Luckily, the adrenaline crash was wearing off and Gen couldn't seem to muster up much more energy. Senkuu pulled his desk back a little and was finally able to Gen out of the corner and onto the bed. From there, Gen complied with a faraway look in his eyes.
Doing this to him when he wasn't completely conscious sent a new wave of guilt through Senkuu, but this was necessary work; he was willing to bet money that Gen was on some kind of sedative, probably a barbiturate, maybe amobarbital or phenobarbital, and almost certainly too high a dose. On their own they might have been alright, but if he was on any additional muscle relaxants or sleeping pills it could be game over. Gen’s shallow breathing and extreme drowsiness were too similar to signs of an overdose for Senkuu to ignore.
His hands moved a little faster.
///
When the most pressing concerns had been tended to, Senkuu was able to do a slow examination of Gen to survey the more surface-level damage. Besides a frankly nauseating amount of lacerations and bruises, Senkuu found that Gen's right wrist was broken. Setting it and creating a cast was easy enough with the materials he had on hand, though Gen's pained noises made Senkuu's stomach turn.
After he was finished, Senkuu quietly guided Gen to the guest room he would be sleeping in. He made the executive decision to hook Gen up to some monitors, at least for the first few nights. With everything that had happened (the clues to which Senkuu was still piecing together), he couldn't be a hundred percent sure that Gen's condition wouldn't worsen during the night. If his heart rate started tanking, Senkuu would be notified by the beeping.
And notified he was — Gen started to flatline for the briefest of seconds, but that was all it took for Senkuu to fly over to the other side of the room and frantically grab the naloxone. The tone of the ECG was getting impossibly louder, ringing in his ears until it was inseparably attached to the image of Gen, overdosed in his guest bedroom, his blood both literally and figuratively on Senkuu's hands.
This is it, he thought. This is the first time I've failed someone like this. What are you supposed to do when your high school crush OD's in your home after you buy him at a fucking slave market? Call your dad?
He must've bumped Gen just right, though, because one of the snaps dangled off the bed. Once Senkuu attached it back to the right patch, Gen's heart rate finally returned to normal.
Senkuu stepped back from the bed, hands raised like he was surrendering. His heart pounded in his ears louder than it ever had before. It was a false alarm — thank god, it was a false alarm.
Considering that he was not a licensed physician and has had next to no real-life medical training, he did fairly well. When it was for real, though (if it was ever for real, he optimistically corrected himself) he would do just as well. Ten billion perfect, absolutely, for sure.
He wasn't letting Gen slip away from him that easily.
Honestly, Senkuu was incredibly lucky that he had done so much personal medical testing in the past; he had no idea how he could have gotten through tonight if he didn’t already have so much equipment on hand. He had no idea how Gen would've fared if Senkuu was unprepared; frankly, he was just trying not to think about it.
The bedroom was simple enough — a matching bed set, complete with a queen bed, a dresser, two nightstands, and a lamp, all wood in a stormy gray color. Yuzuriha and Taiju usually used this room whenever they stayed with him. Now with all the medical equipment, the room was slightly busier, but it was comfortable.
Where did that leave Senkuu, though?
He fidgeted for a little bit by Gen’s bedside, the latter sleeping motionless, completely unaware of Senkuu’s dilemma. He would strongly prefer to at least sleep in the same room as Gen in case of an emergency, plus he would hate for Gen to wake up alone in a strange place after everything he had likely gone through. If he panicked too much he could rip out his IV or hurt himself.
Would Gen mind?
It wasn't like Senkuu was planning on violating him or anything, as would probably be commonplace during his first night with a new owner. Senkuu reassured himself that he had nothing but good intentions.
Of course, his brain whispered to him. That’s why you just dropped almost 11 million yen on a whim buying the guy you’ve had a crush on since you were a teenager. As a slave. But you’re one of the good ones, right? Nothing but good intentions here.
Actually, Senkuu decided, no more critical thinking for tonight.
He had already exhausted and tomorrow was going to be rough, so he needed whatever sleep he could manage. After examining Gen again, he scurried off to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, changed into his pajamas, and made it back to the guest room in record time. He definitely wasn't changing Gen’s clothes, it was way too late for something that would take so much maneuvering. Best to just let himself and Gen both rest.
Hopefully the clothes the Well had dressed him in (black dress pants and a white cotton shirt, so thin it was translucent) weren't too uncomfortable. Gen didn’t come with any shoes or socks, which Senkuu felt bad about not noticing until now, but it was one less thing to worry about.
Carefully, so as not to disturb Gen, Senkuu peeled back the covers and slipped into bed next to him.
Moonlight flooded in through the window and cascaded across his bed-partner's face, and Gen’s skin took on an almost ethereal glow. It was hard to appreciate this, though, when the bruises were so deep that they raised and distorted Gen’s skin. When his black eye was still weeping pus and tears.
It was hard to look at Gen at all, really. The broken man that laid across from him was a far cry from the pretty, popular boy that Senkuu took a liking to way back in high school.
So Senkuu gave Gen a final once-over, glanced at the monitors beeping above him, and turned over. It was well past midnight now. He set a vibrating alarm for two hours on his smartwatch so it didn't wake Gen up; he would check to see if any adjustments were needed then.
For now, though, he squeezed his eyes shut as tight as possible and willed his mind to put aside the horrible images from today. At least for a little bit. Just so they could rest.