Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Gen had always been good at lying to himself.

So, when his monthly expenses started growing bigger and his monthly income started shrinking, he repeated to himself that everything was fine. When he lost his part-time job —serving rich people in suits food that was definitely too expensive for the quantity displayed on the plate, or where you couldn’t complain if a middle-aged man groped you because “You can’t fight against the client”— and his career as a magician was still not taking off, as his manager-half-fuckbuddy said, he repeated to himself that he had enough money saved up to pay rent for the next few months without having to starve himself. 

It was a great lie, but when in the first month he’d had the electricity cut off by the company, the truth of it all started sinking into him. He didn’t have the money to pay rent, let alone to pay the electricity bill, so he had to find an alternative to get money, and fast.

Asking Aito, his manager, for money wasn’t even an option, because he knew he’d be willing to leave everything behind for him, and the prospect of it made him terribly uncomfortable; the fact that someone cared about him in a selfless way —selfless in the sense that he only expected to have sex in exchange, which Gen didn’t really mind.

Since asking for money wasn’t an option and his career as a magician was still not taking off, Gen started to desperately leave job applications everywhere. He even tried convincing some of his old university professors that they surely really needed an assistant, to which most of them had kindly answered that, in fact, they didn’t —“It’s good to know that you’re finally redirecting your life to what you’re the best at: psychology.” One of his favourite professors had emailed. Gen had almost punched the computer screen. He couldn’t afford to fix it, after all. 

He was so desperate he even had started to leave job applications on random fast-food restaurants near his house, in hopes that maybe they considered that having a pretty waiter could be a way to boost up their sales. They hadn’t called back either, but he didn’t want to give up just yet. 

That day had been especially rough. He had woken up alone in bed, Aito long gone after their nightly hook-up session, and the light was entering through the blindfolds in such a beautiful way, drawing shapes on the bare white walls of his room. He had stayed there for what had felt like an eternity, staring at the walls while sprawled on the futon he slept with on the floor, fuzzy, the spring breeze cooling his body, and had internally wished that he could stay there forever, in that apartment, in that bed, the world stopping around him and just letting him enjoy the few things he had in his life. 

Then his phone had chimed with a new message from his landlord telling him he had to pay last month’s rent that week or he’d have to move out, and the reality of it all had sunk into him. 

As much as he wished to stay there, he forced himself to get up, “make” breakfast —warm yogurt, which was absolutely disgusting, with some cereal— before getting dressed and checking his phone for shops and restaurants near his house where he could leave his curriculum. 

Part of him was admiring his strength to keep going, to not back down and ask for help, no matter how bad he wanted it. His body was begging for rest, to curl up on a corner of his bedroom and just cry. Cry because he had studied a career that didn’t give him almost any joy, but had done it as a way of self-protection from his past and from the future; cry because he wanted so bad for his career as a magician to take off once and for all; cry because he didn’t have anything stable in life —as much as he knew Aito wasn’t going to leave him any time soon, he couldn’t say the same. He was growing tired of him—; cry because he didn’t know where his parents were, and the last time he’d seen them he had said some horrible things to them; cry because the words that every director or man with any influence in the industry had said to him were still imprinted in his mind; cry because his apartment, the only thing he really didn’t want to lose, was a luxury that he couldn’t afford.

But instead of doing it, he was making himself move forward. He couldn’t stay behind, let life step on him and crush his bones with the force of reality. Gen had to keep moving, and, similar to lying to himself, he was really good at it.

The positivity that he had started the day with was already fading by the time he’d been rejected for the third time in a shop, but as much as he wanted to go back home and lie down in bed for the rest of the day, he took a deep breath and forced himself to smile as he stepped outside, ready to go to the next shop. 

He didn’t see the man leaned against a car until he was close enough not to be able to change paths without it being too obvious. He was tall, blonde, with beautiful eyes, hungrily looking at Gen as if he was going to leap towards him and eat him whole in one single bite. 

“Are you looking for a job?” His accent was thick, definitely foreign, and Gen studied his toned body and muscled arms while the man put a cigarette on his lips, stained with red lipstick, and lit it calmly. 

How much could he get from fucking him? 100? 150 if he was feeling generous? He considered his offer for a moment, until he finally straightened his spine and spoke.

“I am.” 

They held eye contact for a brief second, one of the blonde man’s eyebrows slightly raised in amusement, until he chuckled.

“Good. Call this number.” He took a card out of his pocket and handed it to Gen. For a second, the psychologist huffed and felt his face heat up from the embarrassment of even thinking he wanted something else, but before he could grab the card, the man raised his arm, the card out of reach for him. “What were you thinking of doing, pretty boy?” 

Gen gave him a sly smile before answering, glaring at him with his chin slightly lifted. “What did you want me to do, hmm? Did you want me to tell you we can go back to my apartment and you can fuck me against the counter for a bit of cash?”

That left him surprised enough for Gen to stretch his arm and grab the card, tucking it into one of his jean’s pockets before looking back at him. 

The man chuckled and softly shook his head, an incredulous smile on his face. “I like you.” 

“Do you think that’d get me the job?” Gen asked cockily, folding his arms and his chest puffing out unintentionally —but definitely intentionally, like everything he did. 

The man’s eyes travelled all over his body, probably thinking of the possibilities he’d lost when he handed that card to Gen. “Maybe I can put a good word in for you.”

“Your name?” The psychologist asked, his eyes still fixed on the man’s bright but dangerous eyes. 

“Stanley.” He spoke with the cigarette, now also stained with lipstick, between his lips, too amused by Gen to even put it out of his mouth. 

“Can I have a cigarette, Stanley?” He asked, smiling a toothy grin that just made the blonde man chuckle. He took a cigarette out and handed it to him, eyes hungrily studying his face. Gen placed it between his lips and took a step towards him, signalling him to light it. 

Stanley did it, both of them aware of their closeness and the other’s smell, maybe lingering a beat too long close to each other, as if they were incapable of pulling back. Gen was the one who took a step back, the lit cigarette on his lips and a smile on his face. 

“Pleasure to meet you. We’ll see each other soon, I hope.” He said, eyeing Stanley one last time before turning around and walking away. 

“I bet we will.” He heard the man say, and Gen waved his hand dismissively, finally turning around the corner and losing his sight. 

The psychologist tossed the half-smoked cigarette to the ground and stepped on it, extinguishing the flame. 

He didn’t like smoking. He’d always hated the smell and taste of it.

—

Gen turned the card on his hands, carefully examining it. It didn’t look fake, it was too good quality for it to not be real. It was off-white, sturdy, with a texture that the psychologist’s fingers apparently couldn’t get tired of. He was turning the card over and over again, his brain repeating the name that was written on it in an elegant black font: Dr. Xeno.

He finally stood up from his bed and took his mobile phone —he’d charged it on a café, trying to seem cool about the fact that it was taking him to drink a coffee more than two hours. He googled the name and was suddenly overwhelmed by the number of articles written about him.

May 2016.

Dr. Xeno, the highly acclaimed and respected American scientist, has given up his job at NASA and moved to Japan, where he is supposedly working on a new project he isn’t ‘really keen on talking about’. The Administrator of NASA, Jim Bridenstine, has expressed his sadness about Xeno’s departure in his latest press conference.

Gen huffed, biting on his nails while he read the article. What would a famous scientist be looking in a psychology student that hasn’t even worked on his field yet? There was only one way to know.

He stayed a few seconds in silence, mentally preparing a speech for what to say once he called, and once he was happy with it he typed the number and pressed the call button. 

It rang once, twice, and by the fourth one, Gen was getting impatient.

“Yes?” A girl’s voice made him relax again, but he automatically straightened his spine, hoping his voice would sound confident.

“Yes, hi. I’m calling for the job offer. Someone gave me your card.” 

“Ah! Yes! Can I have your name, please?” She said enthusiastically, and Gen frowned before answering.

“Gen Asagiri.”

“Okay Gen, can you come tomorrow at 12 for the job interview? The address is on the card.”

“Sure, see you tomorrow.” He muttered, hanging up and placing his mobile phone on the bedside table before dropping down on the bed, eyes wide open and fixed on the ceiling.

Everything about it was weird. Why had Stanley given him the card out of all the people that were walking on the street? He hadn’t even asked what he had studied, or the type of job he was looking for. Why would that Dr. Xeno guy be looking for someone to hire in the street? 

Maybe it was a scam. He wouldn’t be surprised about it —once he had tried looking for a sugar daddy, and that hadn’t worked out well. Most of them were bots waiting to scam anyone stupid enough. 

Resting his arms behind his head and sighing loudly, Gen weighed his options: he could ignore them and simply not go to the job interview tomorrow, or he could go and risk it. It would most probably be a waste of time —something he didn’t have much anymore, since it was Wednesday already and he had to pay his landlord by the end of the week—, but a small part of him was telling him that maybe, maybe, the job was real and it could help him out of the situation he was in. 

He wasn’t in the position to ignore a job offer. The prospect of it being real was 50% of the possibilities. 

Okay, maybe not 50%, but 30%. And he was desperate. 

With a conclusive sigh, Gen sat up on the bed and told himself that he’d be there at 12 tomorrow. He didn’t have anything to lose. 

Before he could even second-guess his decision there was a knock on his door, pulling him out of his thoughts. 

It was probably Aito, and for a moment Gen thanked his manager’s insatiable sex-drive, because what he needed the most was not to think at all.

He’d have plenty of time to overthink tomorrow morning. 

—

The building was huge. Despite it being on the outskirts of the city, it held so much grandeur that it could’ve perfectly been in the centre of the city as an intimidating, impenetrable building that everyone wondered what it was for.

Gen’s face was tipped upwards, glittering eyes focused on the huge letter X on top of the door. It was intimidating. His whole body was telling him to run away from there, ditch the job offer and just consider working as a camboy. 

After their second round of sex yesterday Gen had felt maybe clingier than usual, and had ended up telling Aito everything; his struggle with money, how he was failing at finding a new job, and the mysterious card that he’d been given by Stanley.

“Do you know him?” Gen had asked in almost a whisper, his nervous eyes studying Aito’s every expression while he observed the card.

“I don’t, but it doesn’t seem fake to me.” His manager had finally answered, looking back at the psychologist. Gen had pursed his lips and lied back on the bed, one of his hands behind his head and the other mindlessly caressing his stomach, the feeling of his fingertips softly grazing his skin giving him goosebumps. 

He could go for another round of sex. Maybe he should. He was overthinking too much.

“Are you going to go?” Aito had finally asked, leaving the card on his bedside table and lying sideways, looking at Gen. 

Another round was a bad idea. He needed to be able to walk properly tomorrow. 

“I guess. Depends on what I decide tomorrow.” He had finally said, and Aito had hummed in agreement, lying back and closing his eyes. 

Gen took a deep breath, eyes still studying the building, and forced himself to walk towards it. Being a camboy would always be an option, but his curiosity had been sparked by the possible job offer not to risk it and go back home in the last minute. 

The A/C was blasting inside and he hissed, instantly feeling a cold sweat start at the sudden temperature change. The lobby was filled with people in suits walking hurriedly, and Gen scolded himself for the poor choice of clothing. He wasn’t going too informal, just some grey slacks and a silk white shirt, but he couldn’t help but feel underdressed for a second. 

Everything inside the building was white; the marble floors, the decorations, the desks, the elevator doors… Hell, even one of the paintings displayed on the wall was White on white by Kazimir Malevich. It was disturbing.

As much as he wasn’t feeling his best self right now, he needed to seem self-assured. If he wanted to get the job, whatever it was —he was already expecting something like a lab assistant, cleaning and feeding rats used for experiments, or anything weird and boring like that.

He forced himself to exude confidence when he walked over to the main desk and patiently waited for the blonde girl that was frantically typing on her computer to look up at him. 

“Hello, how can I help you?” She asked, looking up at him with an innocent smile. She also had a foreign accent, and looked far too young to be working there. 

“Hi, I’m here for the job interview?” Gen’s voice raised a bit at the end of the sentence, his nerves slipping out of his control. He cursed himself internally before speaking again. “I’m Gen.”

“Oh, yes! I remember you.” She said enthusiastically, standing up and offering her hand. “I’m Luna.” The blonde girl’s grip on their handshake was firm, and Gen silently admired her for her assertiveness. “I’ll show you to Dr. Xeno’s office. Follow me.”

He did, trying not to hold eye contact with anyone else while he followed Luna to the elevator. They went up to the eleventh floor, and as soon as the elevator doors opened he was breathless. 

The whole wall was glass, and the view of the city from there was amazing. If he squinted his eyes enough he could even see his shitty apartment building, but before he could truly locate it he had to focus back on Luna, who had started walking towards the far end of the hallway without even waiting for him. 

She finally stopped in front of a plain white door and turned around to smile at him. “Are you nervous?” 

“Yes.” He tried his best to sound sincere, plasting a nervous smile on his face so she could feel more empathetic towards him. Easy trick. 

Luna smiled at him before knocking on the door and slightly opening it, saying something before finally opening it all the way. 

There he was.

Dr. Xeno in the flesh.

So it wasn’t a scam after all. 

Gen did his best to swallow all the nerves that had suddenly surged inside of him and walked inside the office, trying his best to look confident enough. 

Everything was white, of course. The only thing that wasn’t were Stanley’s clothes, who was leaning against a window with a cigarette between his lips. Gen didn’t know why, but his presence already eased him a bit. 

“Nice to meet you, Gen. Sit down.” Dr. Xeno’s voice was serene, and the psychologist nodded before sitting down on the white (obviously) leather chair in front of the doctor’s desk. 

He heard the door close behind him, and knew that Luna had left them three alone. A curious glance towards Stanley gained him an amused smile from the blonde man, who winked at him before exhaling the smoke of his cigarette and adding more pressure to the already tense atmosphere.

“Can I ask you a few questions?” Xeno asked, leaning back on the chair and folding his arms. 

“Sure.” Gen tried his best to hold eye contact with him, studying his face. He was old, maybe ten or fifteen years older than him, but his under-eye circles and receding hairline made him look much older. 

“What did you study at university?” The scientist asked, his eyes following Gen’s every movement. The psychologist couldn’t guess what he was thinking, but something about his and Stanley’s body language were giving him enough clues; he already had the job.

He just needed to know why, and what exactly was it. 

“Psychology.” Gen’s eyes travelled from Xeno to Stanley, trying to read their body language so he could answer what they wanted to hear. A small nod from the scientist gave him confirmation that whatever he was saying was the good thing.

“Here, at the University of Tokyo?”

“Yes.”

“Did you do any extracurricular activities during your studies at university?” 

He stayed silent a few second, observing Xeno attentively; for a second, the black leather collar he was wearing distracted him. Kinky. The scientist leaned forward on the chair, and that made Gen concentrate on the conversation again; so this was the question that truly interested him. 

He focused back on his own body language and tried his best to seem relaxed, but not too relaxed; nervous, but not too nervous. “I did. I was part of the student council for two years.” 

“Do you want the job, Gen?” Xeno asked, leaning back on the white leather chair again. “If you agree, I’ll tell you what it consists of.”

The psychologist couldn’t help a cocky grin, his eyes meeting  Stanley’s for a brief moment, who also smiled, the cigarette hanging between his teeth. Gen felt like they were sharing a secret —what it was, he didn't know.

He looked back at Xeno, his eyes filled with determination, and curtly nodded. “Of course I want it.”