Can't Take Me Home

By Crush

Disclaimer: I don't own Weiss or it's characters… because if I did… HAPPY HAPPY YAOI YAOI!!

Maybe part of you will never understand this, and maybe you don't want to. Part of me wishes that I didn't understand it. That you weren't part of me and that I didn't spend every moment of everyday wondering where you were, what you were doing. Who you were doing it with. Don't get me wrong, I do love you but there's too many concepts involved, too complicated, to hard.

When it's just you and I in the middle of the night, in this place and that. In this motel room and this alleyway… nothing has to matter. Nothing has to be right or wrong, white or black, good or bad. Assassin or mutant. But the one thing neither of us wants to know, or cares to remember that the dawn will surely come and by the time it does we need to be safely tucked away at home, slowing waking to a morning like any other.

I think I'm just to afraid to tell Aya or Yohji or even Ken what's going, I'm not ready to tell them that I'm in love with not only another man but someone that they've come to distrust over the years, not by their own accord but by that of the ones that hold our puppet strings. Might as well face it. We're all puppets controlled by our masters, we kill in Persia's name. You in Takatori's. Or whomever you're serving now.

Sometimes, I think that they know. When Aya's eyes rest on me a little longer than they should, with a sad look to them. Or when Ken tells me that I can tell him anything, even if I'm afraid of what he'll think and looks disappointed when I say that there's nothing I haven't told him. Or Yohji, who leaves his arm draped around my shoulder for a moment longer and tells me that no matter what he'll always care.

I still can't tell them. You on the other hand, have nothing to worry about, Schwartz in it's entity has no care for each other. You don't tell each other anything, I know this because it upsets you so much before I see you. You lay your head on my chest and tell me stories of your childhood, of Ireland and folklore of this, that and the other thing. You don't remember when you started to kill, and you never speak of it.

The stories are almost part of you, your eyes get a far away look in them and you begin to whisper in Gaelic, you tell me that you'll never forget anything I've done for you. I even know a bit of it now. I know some of the things your saying, and anything else you explain later on. You tell me that you miss it. You even make me miss it too, even though I've never been out of Japan.

You tell me of every scar you have on every part of your body, what they mean to you, how they happened. Who did them to you. Sometimes, I feel bad for you. I want to hold you close and make it all go away from you. For you. You always tell me that there's no way I could. But I make it all better. The sight of me, the smell, the feel… you say it helps. Helps you heal.

Sometimes we don't even have to talk. You press me against the wall and ravish me gently, you whisper words of comfort and tell me what a good boy I've been. You tell me that we're going to hurt God tonight, and that God has already forsaken me. And sometimes, I believe you.

When I was a child my mother took me to church every Sunday. We sat at the very front, I didn't fidget or anything because it would upset her. She taught me every story of the bible and made me recite them. Part of me still believes in God. Even though, I know he doesn't care for me and I lost him the second I made my first kill, the second I took the name Tsukiyono Omi.

The days we do need to talk to you tell me about Schwartz and how they are to you, you tell me what it's like to be locked up and what it's like to have no one believe a word you say. They just dismiss it as insane ramblings.

"But you…" You would say, "You listen to me."

It's because I love you. I would want to say, but instead I just nod along and lay back against you, so I could feel you a little bit closer. You would smile and say, "My little kitten… I wish I could take you home…I'd play with you everyday, we'd drink milk and punish God."

I'd smile and kiss your cheek, "You know you can't take me home." Because if you did it would only cause problems for both of us. You would sigh and begin to play with my hair. You'd hum an Irish song and then you'd tell me where you learnt it. You'd teach me the words and soon after we'd part ways.

I want to go with you. Every time I see you walk away it's just as hard as the first time, part of me wonders how many times it will be before I'm numb to it. The other part knows that I never will be. We both know that you and I will part ways for good one day.

You with your allies, me with mine. And we both know that this is how it has to be. This is our story. One, that when you meet someone else and care for him just as much, that I hope you'll tell to him. A little story, no longer than two pages of the little boy that loved you more than life itself… but you couldn't take home.

I know I'll never forget it. And one day I'll have someone to tell it to.

I don't know if this letter will ever reach you, it seems rather pointless to mail it. I'm sure Oracle would read your mail. Maybe I'll send it to the little telekinetic boy, even if he does read it I doubt he'd care. He'd probably just print it off and slide it under your door.

Maybe it's just one of those things you write but never send. Either way, I just wanted you to know that Weiss is leaving tonight for Germany. This is the hardest mission we'll ever have to face and I don't know if any of us will make it out alive. The boy has my email now. Maybe he'll let you send something back.

If not, then I guess this is good bye. I want you to know that I love you, and that if I do die… then your name will be on my lips. If I make it back then I want you to take me home. I'll leave Weiss and we can go anywhere. Maybe even Ireland. I don't care. Wherever you are… is were I want to be.

Good luck. Please don't wait up.

-Omi.