Warning: This story contains mention of male/male sexual relationships. If you are offended by this, read something else. Also, quite possibly my most depressing WK fic ever, and given how messed up I usually write these two, that's saying something.
"Anyway, I was thinking we could grab some dinner, maybe go dancing. There's a new club just opened, I've heard it's pretty good -"
Aya didn't even look up from his computer. "I'm busy."
There was silence.
Aya's fingers hesitated a moment on the keys. He knew how this went. Yohji would now try to persuade him that whatever he was doing wasn't that important, until Aya finally lost his temper, and snapped at him. He hated that more than he hated the interruptions, and the suggestions of clubbing that he never took up. When he got angry, he'd say things he didn't mean.
But it didn't come.
When Yohji did speak, it was with an explosive curse that made him jump slightly.
"Fuck this!"
He heard the steps of the other man coming towards him, their tread heavy with sound of anger, and even then, he wasn't ready for it when Yohji grabbed the chair, pulling it, and him, away from the computer. A small sound escaped him. One hand reached forward to pluck the glasses he wore from his nose, none too gently.
"I'm sick of this shit, Aya. We fuck, but you never want to do anything else. Not in public. Hell, we've been sleeping together for months, and our own team-mates don't know. Considering we all live under the same roof, that's saying something. I may have a reputation for being a slut, but I'll be damned if I'm treated like I'm nothing but a fucking convenience, emphasis on the fucking."
Yohji's hands gripped the arm of the computer chair, holding him trapped within it. He bent close, and it seemed like the rest of the room – the rest of the world – was essentially blocked out, disappearing behind the sheer intensity he projected. Aya blinked up at Yohji, surprised by the rage on the other man's face. That wasn't –
"So tell me, Aya. No more ignoring me. No more pretending. Do you want to be in a relationship with me, or not?"
If the rage had surprised Aya, this stunned him. He felt like someone had hit him on the back of the head with a baseball bat, dazed and shocked and just a bit dizzy, as if the world around him wasn't quite as real as it should be.
Do you want to be in a relationship with me, or not?
The question rang in his head. His first response was automatic – he didn't have time for a relationship, he had responsibilities to take care of and entanglements would just get in the way. But even as he thought it, a new realisation struck him, as stunning in its own way as the question itself had been.
He didn't have those responsibilities. Not anymore. Or rather, not the same responsibilities. He'd killed Takatori, and avenged his parents' murder. Aya-chan was awake and safe. Sure, he was still a member of Weiss – it was kind of hard to just stop being an assassin, and go back to everyday, normal life – but he could take time for himself now. Take something for himself.
A relationship. With Yohji.
He turned it over in his head, examining the concept. He wasn't sure what that even involved. Sleeping together was the obvious part, but as Yohji said, they'd been doing that for months. Aya hadn't even considered that as a relationship. It was sex. Going clubbing, maybe? It always seemed to feature highly in Yohji's plans. Doing stuff – define stuff, his brain demanded, wary of drawing attention to himself – in public.
He blinked again, only to realise that Yohji's expression had changed again. The face so close to his pulled back, something that looked suspiciously like pain flashing across it.
"Never mind." Yohji laughed, a bitter sound. "I don't know why I bothered. Just another brilliant move on my part, getting hung up on a fucking icicle."
Aya opened his mouth – to respond, to object, to ask just what it was Yohji wanted – but nothing came out. It slowly closed again, as he realised he didn't know what to say. This was foreign territory to him, and he wondered what Yohji's response would be if he said that. I'm lost.
Yohji snorted in disgust. "You can't even say it, can you? I really don't know why I did bother. Don't worry. I'll leave you alone. No more annoying interruptions from me; you can just keep on working on whatever it is that's so damned important while I move on to better things. Have a nice life."
Aya watched as the blonde stormed out of the room, pulling the door shut with an emphatic click behind him. He stared at the closed door, and wondered if that was as final as it sounded.
It was some time before he moved. And then, it was only a small movement, his lips shaping a single word.
"Yes."
His answer echoed in the empty room.
It was a sound like despair.