YamaAsa. They don't really get along, but that's alright.
He dressed like one, but he looked like one, which was an entirely different thing to someone like Yamazaki Yoshiki. There was an aura of exhaustion with life that hovered around the boy even as he made the perfunctory struggle against the faceless, nameless man who was trying to grope his ass. He looked tired, ready to give in, when all of a sudden he /snapped/.
He blazed, white-hot in the grimy bar, as sharp and fine as the blade he held, balanced in his hand. His voice, cold and almost begging to be contradicted so it could lash out again, uttered: "Get the fuck away from me. /Now./"
And just in case the man was a little drunk, a little deaf, or a little kinky, the knife went very close, very fast, to the former aggressor's throat.
That was when Yamazaki stood up from his barstool and came over to lay his hand over the pale, calloused one that held the knife.
"Now, now," he said, exaggeratedly calm and cheerful. "Don't be doing that, Saki. Let's get a drink, shall we?"
It wasn't something that would really bring down this boy from a rage, he could tell in the intuitive way that he read all people, but with Asakura already coming down from his sharp-peaked anger it was enough to confuse him, at least, and make the slightly pudgy man leave quickly, casting Yoshiki a thankful glance. Yamazaki could only hope that he would go home to his family instead of finding another bar to trawl.
"What are you doing here?" the teenager grumbled, flipping his switchblade closed and tucking it into his skin-tight pants that showed of far too many bones for Yamazaki's liking.
"Isn't it a bit early for you to be drinking?" he replied easily, taking a slow drink of his rum while he watched the guitarist out of the corner of his eye. There was the smallest twitch in the hand that held the glass of vodka tonic as the threat was received and then Saki shot the rest, banging the tumbler to the counter hard enough for the bartender to wince.
Yamazaki liked that.
He liked that attitude so much that he ended up wiping the sullenness off of Asakura's exterior on the warm walk to the hidden apartment that Asakura scrounged his life in. He looked like less of a hooker when he got talking about his music, which was ironic to the nth degree. Instead of mentioning that, Yoshiki cornered him against the wall outside his door and kissed him in a way that brokered no question over what his intentions were.
He wanted a taste of black liquorice tonight.
Frankly, he was surprised when Saki went along with it, as exhausted as he seemed, even when Yoshiki took the time to mention to him that he wouldn't be helping to pay the rent. Saki responded by kissing him teasingly and dragging him into the bedroom where a mattress lay on the floor.
Surprisingly, Yamazaki didn't have to mention his knee - Saki mentioned it for him with a sly smile and pushed him onto his back.
A month later and it was Saki who came over to Yoshiki's apartment and they got used to each other's scents.
Three months later and Saki realized that more of his clothes were at Yoshiki's apartment than his own and moved the rest of them in without asking.
Five months later and Asakura Saki still looked like a whore and still acted like a punk, but now he had something else, too.
Someone to pay the rent.