Will you please hold me?

"Please allow me to introduce our honored guest, the eleventh richest man in the world and CEO of Takuya Corporations, Toshiro Takuya!"

A talk show host joined the audience in clapping when a tall, well-built man with jet-black hair took the stage confidently.

Toshiro Takuya was dressed in a blue suit and his face was neatly groomed, leaving only a light stubble to outline his strong jawline. He bowed formally to the host, who returned the gesture with a deep, respectful bow in return. After that, he motioned for the guest to sit in the large armchair and welcomed him to the interview.

Natsuo stared at the plasma television with wide eyes just before he was about to click the remote control.

A strange aura emanated from Toshiro as if he were a powerful force of nature that couldn't be ignored. His voice was deep and commanding, yet gentle and gracious, combined with a poise and style that was somehow captivating.

Jiro quickly rushed to the living room, clenching his teeth and squinting his eyes, grabbing the remote from his roommate and hitting the power button.

Silence reigned in the room as the teal-haired man on the couch eyed the other in surprise, unsure of what was going on.

"Don't watch him in my house ever again," the white-haired man declared in a low voice.

Natsuo understood that the CEO must have been a blood relative of his friend. They seemed to have had a history the other had kept hidden, one that was clearly full of pain and resentment.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

The yakuza sat down on the couch, his shoulders faintly trembling. He rubbed his eyes with his hands to hide the tears that clearly threatened to spill.

"Uh... is there something I can do...?" the younger one asked cautiously.

The white-haired figure shook his head and waved his hand, suggesting the topic was off-limits. After that, he walked to the kitchen and reached for a bottle of sake from the counter. He uncorked the wine, poured a generous amount of liquid into his mouth, and gulped it down in one motion.

Natsuo watched cluelessly as the man took his leather jacket and left the apartment, the sake still in his grasp, without saying a single word.

(Later that night)

The pair of cautious blue eyes watched the yakuza bar, surveying the black-clad customers from the street outside.

The eighteen-year-old with teal hair wore a baggy sweatshirt and black jeans on his slender frame. He had a lightly disheveled look as if he had just rolled out of bed, when his hair poked out from underneath his hood.

The man had tried calling his roommate multiple times, but didn't receive a reply. He grew anxious wondering how the other one was doing, so he had to take matters into his own hands and search for him on his own.

Natsuo breathed deeply and headed to the place he had once visited, imagining that his acquaintance had found comfort in drinking.

The teal-haired man walked into the busy bar, where the smell of cigarettes and violence hung in the air. The raucous chatter of patrons combined with glasses clinking and loud laughter created a chaotic atmosphere throughout the place.

He tried to move among the crowd without drawing too much attention to himself, and began looking for a person in a leather jacket with white hair.

"What happened to brother Takuya?" a man with short black hair asked the bartender.

Natsuo halted his steps and strained his ears to hear the response, but he couldn't make out anything past the noise.

"Oh, okay, thanks," the man said and bowed before moving toward the door.

The teal-haired one quickly chased after him and caught up with him just as he exited the building.

"Excuse me," he exclaimed.

"Did you ask about Jiro? Do you know where I can find him?"

The black-haired man turned around. Natsuo studied his friendly features and noted he was roughly the same age as him. He cleared his throat and introduced himself with a small bow.

"So, you are his roommate," the man stated slightly cheerily, his lips twitching into a small smile.

"Y-yes."

"He is in the back. It seems he has had a few drinks... probably too many," the black-haired continued and scratched his head.

"Can you show me where he is?"

The man glanced over his shoulder and saw a burly figure in a suit walking towards him, referring to him as Arata and complaining about how late they were. He immediately excused himself, saying he had to leave - but for a second he leaned in closer.

"There's a door next to the golden Buddha at the end of the hallway. You can use that to find what you are searching for."

(A while later)

The young man managed to find the secret entrance that led to a private area of the structure. He had blended himself into the shadows and kept an eye on the surroundings before sneaking in - just as he had done when he lived on the streets as a thief.

He tiptoed carefully, his steps soundless against the floors with only his socks on, looking out for anyone leaving the rooms lining up along the dimly lit corridor.

Natsuo stopped in his tracks as he saw one door open and several suited men stepping out, whispering and making their way to him. He swiftly slipped into the nearest chamber, praying no one would be there - but then his focus locked on the slumped figure on the short-legged table.

He recognized his friend's familiar white hair and his folded arms on the wooden surface. Empty gin bottles were scattered around, filling the bare room with a strong smell of alcohol.

Natsuo kneeled beside him and gently awoke him by calling his name.

Jiro observed the silhouette beside him, his partially closed pale brown eyes heavy with fatigue. He slowly lifted his head and tried to focus on the person next to him, before recognition dawned on him.

"Natsuo?" he asked in a raspy voice.

There was brief silence between them. The teal-haired one broke it first after putting on his sneakers, which he was carrying with him.

"Uh, are you alright?"

"You... how did you find me?" the other man slurred.

His movements were sluggish and uncoordinated as he struggled to stand up. He wobbled unsteadily, so his housemate rushed to steady him.

"No matter what, I will always find you... or whatever you said," Natsuo said shyly, a small smile poking at the corner of his lips.

Jiro gazed at him with a dazed expression, his eyes glazed from the alcohol - then he suddenly grabbed the back of the other's neck and pulled him into a hug. His arms wrapped tightly around his former bully and he ran his fingers through the vividly colored hair, before leaving his hand there.

"Will you please hold me?" he muttered, his voice muffled by his counterpart's sweater.

Natsuo's heart thundered as the yakuza's body pressed against his own. He noticed the mix of smells coming from him - the sharp odor of alcohol, the faint scent of weed, and the distinctive fragrance of cologne.

But then, he surrendered to the embrace, and experienced the feeling of being held in someone's arms for the first time in his life. He clutched himself close to the other man, slid his arms under his jacket, and rested his cheek against his chest.

For a moment, the two of them were one, sharing some kind of silent connection. The pain of their pasts and the barriers between them seemed like they melted away as they silently sought refuge from one another.