Hello all! If you have clicked this, then is it safe for me to assume that you were curious to read this, or just accidentally did it. In any case, I wanted to explain the title of this story. It's not a complicated one, I was just thinking about how Halloween was coming up, which got me thinking of scary stories and then I thought about hell and made the connection to sins. Eureka!

I started writing plots down and that's how this story came to be. I am quite the fan of the classic protagonist who gives up on love. So, I went ahead and wrote this. I have other plots for the other sins written down already, but this is the first one I came up with. Well, I hope you like it.

DISCLAIMER FOR WHOLE STORY: I DONT OWN JUNJOU ROMANTICA

The night sky was dark, a new moon outside which only further accented the darkness that hovered over the city. Even for a big city like Tokyo, it was still fairly quiet. Perhaps the moon made people feel as though they were not safe, and in turn decided not to leave the comfort of their own homes. Few places were open, as it was still a business day and the working class was still either working or at home sleeping in order to wake up and repeat the cyclical rut they had gone through everyday working such jobs. Of the places that were open, one of them was a small bar.

Inside of the drinking house, people sat on stools and drank from different styles of glasses. Men and women alike chatted with each other, some complaining about work while others just seemed to want some company. On the far end of the bar, one man sat alone, swirling an ice sphere in a drink he knew well enough was much too strong for him but he felt as though he could use a strong drink right now. Some people appeared not to have realized he was there, and therefore did not approach him. He continued to sip his drink, gesturing to the bartender to come over to pour him more while he kept putting money down on the counter. Every now and again, he would glance over at the man and woman, the woman clearly flirting with him when she gave a forced giggle to the joke he would make, and he would laugh drunkenly. It almost made him physically sick to watch and listen to such drabbles. "Get a room you two." He growled.

Deciding to ignore the people around him, he looked at the rest of his surroundings. The wall of liquor held many different kinds, scotch as well as brandy and a few other drinks used specifically for drinking games or mixed drinks. While he allowed his eyes to stare and his mind to wander, he was pulled out of such daydreams by another person who approached him.

"Do you come here often?" The man asked, smiling innocently at the brown haired man who finished another glass and then looked over at him with an interested frown. He assumed the other man was trying to pick him up, forgetting that people of his own preference came to the bar as well, and instead of responding to his advance he just responded to the question.

"I guess. I've been here more than once if that's what you mean." As he put his hand up to gesture to the bartender, the other man pushed his hand down back onto the counter.

"Why don't you stop at this? I can already tell you're drunk, a ridiculous amount I might add. The smell is practically radiating off of you." The man suggested, which he just got a glare in response. Even so, he appeared to have taken the advice and stopped.

"Bartender, a glass of milk for my friend here and strawberry cocktail for me." The man said, looking back over at the others now wide brown eyes.

"You don't have to get me anything." He said, his voice slurred, even though he hadn't even had more than two glasses of the strong liquor he thought he could handle. "In any case, why don't you just leave me alone?"

The other man fiddled with pieces of his raven black hair, his elbow on the counter while his head lay in his palm. "You were sitting here alone and I thought it would be interesting to make conversation with you." The other answered, giving another warm smile as the milk was put down on the counter next to the fruity drink.

"Well, don't." The brown haired man retorted, picking up the milk and chugging it quickly before promptly walking out of the bar. The dark haired man watched this display, standing up to follow the other out the door. He paused once he saw someone else approach the other, looking at him suggestively while the other just looked bored and drunk. The two of them exchanged conversation, then they walked off together, the taller mans arm around the shorter drunks.

Not sure what else he should do, he retreated back inside of the bar defeated while the other two continued their walk out.

The brown haired man was now back inside of his apartment, underneath the man he had been with on the street and crying out underneath him in pleasure. It had been like this for as long as he could remember, sex without attachment, only the pleasure of feeling another warm body. The man hovering above him was pushing into him roughly, the other leaking tears from the pain. Even in his drunken stupor, he knew what was going on. The sensation of another foreign body inside of him, the sounds of his own voice as well as the throbbing of his head from the drinking.

All of these feelings were nothing new to him, since he had been through this many times before. He wasn't looking for a relationship; he just used sex as a way of escape. Escape from the pain of his secret love, escape from the harsh reality of his unhappiness, all of it. The man on top leaned down; kissing the brown haired mans neck hungrily while he continued to push into him.

'Just do it until I can't even think straight.' He thought, biting his lip to hold back his voice and wrapping his arms around the other body while the lusty moans continued to ring in his ears.

The morning after was troubling, the consequences of so much drinking were so clear it was painful. The throbbing of his head was now not a result of the excessive movement from the alcohol in his system, but rather the hangover from so much drinking. He groaned in pain, trying to move around in his sleep but unable to due to the pair of arms wrapped around him.

It took him a moment to realize he was naked, and that the person behind him had been someone he spent the night with. He sighed, knowing that he would now have to chase another person out of his apartment. He had already gotten used to waking up like this, ever since his feelings for that person began to build up more than they ever had before and causing him great distress which made him go out and try to drink it off, sometimes his nights ending in a random hookup such as this one. He felt the regret swell up inside of him, though he knew regretting at this point was unnecessary.

Slipping out of bed, he tried to steady himself and rummaged through his drawers, throwing on anything to cover his exposed body until he would go shower later. He glanced over at his clock; the time read "6:00 am". Thankfully, he had work in two hours, which gave him enough time to cook something and shower after throwing his guest out. Turning his attention back to the bed, he saw the face of his one night stand looking up at him with confusion before last nights events seemed to hit him and he scrambled out of bed nervously, quickly threw on his clothing, uttered an apology and left.

'Well, at least I didn't have to chase him out.' He thought, walking towards the bathroom to freshen up.

The brown haired man now sat in a small office, the sun illuminating the light beige walls while he typed on a computer. His attire was different, from his thick sweater and khaki pants to a black shirt with brown slacks and a red tie to complete the whole ensemble. His eyebrows were furrowed and his lips were in a frown, he kept his usual expression. As he typed, he heard the upbeat voice of the other professor enter the room.

"Goooood morning Kamijo-sensei!" The professor called, grabbing the man on the laptop into a tight hug. "Or should I say, Hiroki?"

"Get the hell off of me, Miyagi." Hiroki ordered without adding honorifics to the other mans name, his patience wearing thin due to his massive hangover. Miyagi seemed not to have heard him, still having his grip on Hiroki. After a moment, he released him and instead pushed Hiroki's head to the side and examined his neck.

"So, busy night, huh?" Miyagi asked, his tone now serious while Hiroki slapped his hand away.

"What the hell are you talking about?" He demanded, his eyes going wide as he put his hand to his neck. The red hickey on his neck became all too apparent to him, causing him to blush in embarrassment. He went quiet as his face softened from his angry expression to one hinted at sadness.

"So, you did it again." Miyagi said, watching as Hiroki flinched from hearing this. Of course, he had hit the nail right on the head and that only further made him ashamed of his behavior. "If you're going to go looking so remorseful like that, then why even do it?" He asked.

"What do you know?" Hiroki hissed, trying to regain his composure as fixed his shirt to hide the lovebite, then resumed typing on his computer.

"Enough to know that you're going to end up with something if you keep this up. Why don't you go talk to a therapist instead of just allowing all of these people to screw you senseless?" He crossed his arms over his chest, disappointment and worry apparent in his tone.

"I don't want to go pouring my heart out to some random person I don't even know just so they can judge me."

Miyagi sighed, reaching into his shirt pocket and pulling out a small card, looking at it a bit before walking out of the room.

Hiroki felt relief wash over him, now glad that his colleague was leaving him alone. He heard the sounds of talking outside of the door, Miyagi now on his phone. After a few moments, the talking stopped and the professor entered the room again.

"So, I just got off of the phone with one of my friends," Miyagi began.

"What does that have to do with me?" Hiroki spat.

"Well, I asked if they had anyone who would be willing to see you as soon as possible. There is one, his name is Doctor Kusama. Maybe you'll be willing to talk to him since you don't seem to have any intention of talking to me." Miyagi said, handing him a building address as well as a time and date written on it.

"Didn't I just tell you that I don't want to go see a therapist?"

"Yes, and now I'm telling you that whether or not you want to, I know that you definitely need to." Miyagi said with a sigh. "At least give it a chance, they're at least willing to let you have a free session since you sound like you could use it. It isn't like you're paying someone for it, at least not this time. So, try it. Alright?" With that, Miyagi left the room.

Hiroki listened to the click of the door closing, trying to keep his eyes off of the paper that appeared to be taunting him while Miyagi's words floated around in his mind. He reluctantly picked up the small sheet of paper, reading the print and then putting his head down in his hands.

'Everything is messed up.'

Lust: self-indulgent sexual desire.

I guess this would be more of an alternate reality fic than an alternate universe, since the only thing that's different is that Nowaki is a therapist rather than a children's doctor. This fanfic will have a lot, and I do mean a lot, of sex. Just, by the way. It is called lust after all, so that's pretty understandable.