Part 1 - Yume
Yohji chest burned as he ran down the hallway that seemed endless. Each footfall echoed like a gunshot. I'm coming Aya…be ok…be ok… He could see the door in front of him and as he ran he raised one arm slightly ready to attack. 1…2…3…and he was at the door, throwing it open.
"It's about time, Kudou."
Yohji flinched as if hit with a wall of freezing water. Aya lay before him, lounging in Schuldig's arms, his katana held casually at his side. Schuldig grinned, stroking Aya's hair. As if on cue, Schuldig turned Aya's head and kissed him deeply before turning to look back at the shocked assassin.
"We've been waiting for you," the German purred.
Yohji gaped as Aya stood and walked toward him languidly.
"Aya…" Yohji whispered.
"Haven't I made it clear enough, Yohji-kun, I'm never going to want you."
"Show him you're serious, Ran-chan…"
Yohji's mind was screaming for him to run, but he stood still as Aya reached for him and drew him into a rough kiss until Yohji gasped for breath.
"You were fun for a little while, but I've had enough."
Yohji was still coughing and trying to breath when Aya smiled ran him neatly through with his katana, stepping closer into a bloody embrace. Yohji buckled with pain, his face pressing against the warmth of Aya's neck. His mouth opened in silent question before clenching shut. His arms clutched Aya reflexively as his knees quickly gave out. He could hear Schuldig's laughter through over the ringing in his ears. As he sank to the ground, Aya bent with him, whispering in his ear.
"Why didn't you just give up…"
Kudou Yohji woke with a start, arms shooting out as if to catch himself from falling. But he was already on the floor. His body was covered with sweat, and mostly stuck to the cold tile below him. What the hell? Yohji suddenly remembered his confrontation with Omi and later breaking down in the bathroom. Jesus, what a mess. I must have fallen asleep. He stood and opened the door a crack to make sure no one was outside, before sneaking to his bedroom.
His dream came back to him in bits and pieces, and he shuddered at the memory of his teammate and Schuldig. It must have been everything Omi said last night. He remembered the boy's words.
"He means enough to me that if he dies, I'm going to go with him."
"Fuck…" Yohji murmered to himself. Perversely, he hoped that Schuldig returns Omi's affections.
Yohji tried to remember the way things were before Omi…left. It seems far away now. As usual, his thoughts make their way to the team's leader. Abyssinian. Ran. Aya.
His mind drifted and his stomach grew familiarly cold, with the angry, possessive, and hurt feeling that's been plaguing him lately, every time he thinks about the redhead.
It used to be easy. I could just watch him, watch him work, watch him kill. I could ignore the fact that every mission grew slightly more frightening, because for the first time in years, I was afraid of losing something again. And for the first time in years, I had someone I wanted to protect.
But Aya wasn't the type of person who needed—or wanted— protection. And lately it seemed, Aya wasn't the type of person who needed him. The world was making a little less sense to him every day. Aya, the quiet and vaguely antisocial assassin, was suddenly being linked to a beautiful and vaguely flirtatious woman. Aya, the leader of Weiss, was suddenly communicating with a decidedly psychotic…and gorgeous…telepath. Aya was getting house calls from Omi-turned-psycho, who was uncannily concerned with "Abyssinian's" health.
Aya had no need for him.
Yohji had been trying various ways to forget about him. But like any addiction, he found himself unconsciously cheating. Sharing a few shots. Staring at his black boxer-clad body, marred by ugly stitches and uncharacteristically weakened. And still so sexy.
Yohji sighed. The headaches were the worst part. Certainly, this was Aya at his un-sexiest, but when Yohji had seen the man clutching his head in pure and blinding pain, Yohji had felt like his own heart was being torn from his chest. It wasn't fear exactly, or pity. Instead, Yohji had the strange desire to want to find any way to take the pain away.
This was the same feeling he'd gotten when missions had nearly become fatal. Although he felt strongly for all of his teammates, he knew that if it came down to it, he'd rather die than live without him.
"He means enough to me that if he dies, I'm going to go with him."
Yohji laughed to himself. I need a hobby or something. Christ, the guy, if anything, is only highly annoyed by my presence. This ultimately, was the kicker. The great conundrum in Kudou Yohji's life. Like a God damn Greek tragedy.
Yohji Kudou was in love with a man.
The man happened to be a highly unpredictable but mostly unfeeling asshole,
When this man did show emotion, it sure as hell wasn't in Yohji's direction.
Yohji sat up in bed, suddenly disgusted with himself. It shouldn't matter. I'm an assassin. This isn't High School. He was a little too old to be having crushes, he reminded himself, especially the kind that could end up getting someone killed. The most important thing was to concentrate on getting Omi back.
Or killing him.
With this Yohji sighed, and made a mental resolution, something along the lines of "Fuck Aya," and quickly amended by "well, not literally." Followed by "not yet anyway."
Yohji ran his hands through his hair and walked toward the door. This was going to be another long day.
Yohji chest burned as he ran down the hallway that seemed endless. Each footfall echoed like a gunshot. I'm coming Aya…be ok…be ok… He could see the door in front of him and as he ran he raised one arm slightly ready to attack. 1…2…3…and he was at the door, throwing it open.
"It's about time, Kudou."
Yohji flinched as if hit with a wall of freezing water. Aya lay before him, lounging in Schuldig's arms, his katana held casually at his side. Schuldig grinned, stroking Aya's hair. As if on cue, Schuldig turned Aya's head and kissed him deeply before turning to look back at the shocked assassin.
"We've been waiting for you," the German purred.
Yohji gaped as Aya stood and walked toward him languidly.
"Aya…" Yohji whispered.
"Haven't I made it clear enough, Yohji-kun, I'm never going to want you."
"Show him you're serious, Ran-chan…"
Yohji's mind was screaming for him to run, but he stood still as Aya reached for him and drew him into a rough kiss until Yohji gasped for breath.
"You were fun for a little while, but I've had enough."
Yohji was still coughing and trying to breath when Aya smiled ran him neatly through with his katana, stepping closer into a bloody embrace. Yohji buckled with pain, his face pressing against the warmth of Aya's neck. His mouth opened in silent question before clenching shut. His arms clutched Aya reflexively as his knees quickly gave out. He could hear Schuldig's laughter through over the ringing in his ears. As he sank to the ground, Aya bent with him, whispering in his ear.
"Why didn't you just give up…"
Kudou Yohji woke with a start, arms shooting out as if to catch himself from falling. But he was already on the floor. His body was covered with sweat, and mostly stuck to the cold tile below him. What the hell? Yohji suddenly remembered his confrontation with Omi and later breaking down in the bathroom. Jesus, what a mess. I must have fallen asleep. He stood and opened the door a crack to make sure no one was outside, before sneaking to his bedroom.
His dream came back to him in bits and pieces, and he shuddered at the memory of his teammate and Schuldig. It must have been everything Omi said last night. He remembered the boy's words.
"He means enough to me that if he dies, I'm going to go with him."
"Fuck…" Yohji murmered to himself. Perversely, he hoped that Schuldig returns Omi's affections.
Yohji tried to remember the way things were before Omi…left. It seems far away now. As usual, his thoughts make their way to the team's leader. Abyssinian. Ran. Aya.
His mind drifted and his stomach grew familiarly cold, with the angry, possessive, and hurt feeling that's been plaguing him lately, every time he thinks about the redhead.
It used to be easy. I could just watch him, watch him work, watch him kill. I could ignore the fact that every mission grew slightly more frightening, because for the first time in years, I was afraid of losing something again. And for the first time in years, I had someone I wanted to protect.
But Aya wasn't the type of person who needed—or wanted— protection. And lately it seemed, Aya wasn't the type of person who needed him. The world was making a little less sense to him every day. Aya, the quiet and vaguely antisocial assassin, was suddenly being linked to a beautiful and vaguely flirtatious woman. Aya, the leader of Weiss, was suddenly communicating with a decidedly psychotic…and gorgeous…telepath. Aya was getting house calls from Omi-turned-psycho, who was uncannily concerned with "Abyssinian's" health.
Aya had no need for him.
Yohji had been trying various ways to forget about him. But like any addiction, he found himself unconsciously cheating. Sharing a few shots. Staring at his black boxer-clad body, marred by ugly stitches and uncharacteristically weakened. And still so sexy.
Yohji sighed. The headaches were the worst part. Certainly, this was Aya at his un-sexiest, but when Yohji had seen the man clutching his head in pure and blinding pain, Yohji had felt like his own heart was being torn from his chest. It wasn't fear exactly, or pity. Instead, Yohji had the strange desire to want to find any way to take the pain away.
This was the same feeling he'd gotten when missions had nearly become fatal. Although he felt strongly for all of his teammates, he knew that if it came down to it, he'd rather die than live without him.
"He means enough to me that if he dies, I'm going to go with him."
Yohji laughed to himself. I need a hobby or something. Christ, the guy, if anything, is only highly annoyed by my presence. This ultimately, was the kicker. The great conundrum in Kudou Yohji's life. Like a God damn Greek tragedy.
Yohji Kudou was in love with a man.
The man happened to be a highly unpredictable but mostly unfeeling asshole,
When this man did show emotion, it sure as hell wasn't in Yohji's direction.
Yohji sat up in bed, suddenly disgusted with himself. It shouldn't matter. I'm an assassin. This isn't High School. He was a little too old to be having crushes, he reminded himself, especially the kind that could end up getting someone killed. The most important thing was to concentrate on getting Omi back.
Or killing him.
With this Yohji sighed, and made a mental resolution, something along the lines of "Fuck Aya," and quickly amended by "well, not literally." Followed by "not yet anyway."
Yohji ran his hands through his hair and walked toward the door. This was going to be another long day.