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Post by Kohaku LeBara on Apr 11, 2010 19:39:11 GMT -5
Finally, Kohaku had the apartment to himself. It took an hour, but he had finally convinced Koota to go out. The man was taking Kei out for a while to do some relaxing. Kohaku wasn't too sure how he felt about leaving his fire-loving friendly alone with his weakly 'nephew' but it had to be done. Kohaku had been traveling far too much lately and had never had time to catch up with his friends of La Campana. Of course the one he missed most was Trace. That sweet, pink haired boy. God he missed his smile. That is why he forced Koota out of the house for the day. He was going to spend the night with his darling. The man had made one small call to the young male and then set forth to getting ready for the day.
Currently, the man was in his kitchen, working at a small meal. Trace was quite a skinny little bugger. He wanted to make the boy a nice, home meal. He knew the school gave each student food, but to him it just wasn't enough. Kohaku wasn't making anything big, a simple soup. It was as dish he grew up on, his mother taught him how to make it. The said dish was almost done now really. The large pot was shimmering nicely, a sweet smell filling his apartment. The man scooped up some chopped carrots that fell into the golden water with a soft hiss. A soft hum fell from the man's lips, though it was one that went along with the song playing on his radio. The black device rested on a shelf above his counter, playing some rock song. Kohaku loved rock, what could he say? Well no, he simply loved songs with a guitar in them. The one playing was some western song. It made him smile somewhat, Koota loved music like this. Some day he would learn to play this on his guitar. The man loved that damn instrument.
A soft sigh escaped the male as he ran a hand through his messy silver locks. He was dressed in merely some worn jeans, his black tee shirt was tossed over a chair in the living room. He knew it wasn't the best presentation but he also knew Trace wouldn't mind. Kohaku wasn't a shy type, he didn't mind to expose his body. Even these days, with all his new scars. The faint thought of them made him frown. The man had a large collection of them, and so very visible on his pale skin. The worst part was, he knew where each was from.
On his hip there was a old scar, years old yet still there. It was barely visible over the rim of his jeans. He got that when he was 15. The man had gotten into a fight at a bar and piss off the wrong guy. The man had taken him outside and instead of hitting him, he went to shoot the child. The bullet merely grazed him. The second shot was taken by someone else; Jed. That man, the man who was like a father to him died that night because of him. The thought still made him shiver with regret. There was a scar on his left shoulder, it was from Ashton, or well 'his other half'. The boy suffered from MPD, and apparently his 'other half' had a grudge against the French man. The scar was he result of getting a lamp smashed into his shoulder. The child hadn't just broke the vase, but he dug the glass into the man's shoulders. He had another from that insane child, on his thigh. he had gotten stabbed when the child was trying to have his way with the man, and was faced with a fight. Kohaku didn't like to go down easy. His wrists were another scar. Burns on both of them. They were from his father, when he refused to return to the family. The man still remembered being pressed down onto his own desk, the massive heat that burned at his skin. Yet another was on his leg. The same were he was stabbed, that was an old shot wound, but like the other was a mere graze that scarred. He received that from his friend Sano. The man had warned him not to lay a hand on his younger brother, but Kohaku couldn't help be seduced by the beautiful man. He had been shot before by the man, simply because Sano could, but that one was a mere graze and hadn't hurt him enough to leave a mark.
The man certainly had more scars then that, but emotional ones. Those of course he never spoke of though, no never. Instead he tried to brush them aside. Such things couldn't bother him tonight though. He was going to be spending a rare night with Trace and that was more important to anything. So the man let his thoughts return to humming along with the strange tune on the radio and dropped some chopped turnips and bits of mushroom into the pot. It gave the same low hiss.
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