Rain

(I don't own weiss, but I own my thoughts about them.)

I like rooftops.

I like lying on top of them at nights. I sneak out of the apartment and climb up to the roof of our building, or at times after missions I climb up some other building, and just lie there. I like lying up there, staring at the sky, breathing the air that is less polluted with the city's filth. I also like feeling the rooftop against my back as I lie on it, feel how close it is to me, with the gravity pulling me down to the rooftop's floor, and yet I know that the floor, the real ground, is way down beneath me, and between us - a few more floors. And thus the gravity suddenly feels heavier, pulling me down harder, into the concrete of the rooftop, and it clashes again with the free air above me.

You can say it is a metaphor for me - my own self and my life. I look up everyday, hoping things will get better. I look at all the people we meet in the shop, how they live their lives so freely, no worries whatsoever, and I want to be like them. But reality brings me down to the ground to see that I am chained to it. I'm chained to the missions, to the blood, to the guilt... So no matter how much I'll look up, I'll always be down at the bottom, looking up to the place I'll never reach. Just like now, I look up to the free air above me, but the gravity just keeps pulling me down.

Heh. I remember nights that I lifted my hand to the air, trying to reach the sky. I knew I wouldn't reach it, but I still tried. I imagined to myself that I'm just an inch away from it. I even closed my fingers around the moon, to see if I might be able to catch it and move it a bit. Stupid me. And to think that I did it while being sober – I must have been out of my goddamn mind.

I sigh.

I like lying on the rooftops on nights like this – when it's raining. Now you would say it's bad because I might catch cold or get sick with something bad; but hey – you're talking to a guy who is a chain-smoker, who bleeds 3rd of his blood on weekly basis, breaks bones, gets slashed, gets shot at, and more lovely action goodies. So one little cold or whatever won't kill me. Trust me.

I like feeling the raindrops hitting my skin. If I hold my breath and stop moving, it almost feels like my body itself spasms, and that it's not just the rain doing it. I like the way water pools around me and makes my hair sail on it to various directions. My naturally bleached hair is always there to remind me of my British side, my mother; but also to remind me of the troubles at school it caused me. I don't like these memories, so I let them slip away with the drops on my face, to fade in the water that slowly fills the roof.

This rain – I always interpret it differently. If it's before a mission, I feel like the sky is crying, its tears come crashing on me, slapping me, beating me, blaming me and asking me "Why? Why do you do it? Why do you kill so many people? Why do you kill yourself?", and I just accept it all in silence. Terrible memories come back then, some are of Asuka. I can't deal with these memories; and so I let those wash away with the heavenly tears, too.
After missions, I feel like the rain is there just to wash everything – my sins, my memories of that night's mission, the blood that even the best of soaps and water can't wash off my hands. Each drop falls on me heavily, like a dull dagger. It won't hurt me, it's not sharp, but it hurts still. However, there is also something very comforting in the rain after missions. I can feel it hugging me through my wet cloths as they cling to my skin and seem to be unable to let go. It's like it forgives me for not stopping, for still doing what I do.

On both cases, the rain is doing a great job – concealing my own tears.

Right now, I lie here on the rooftop with my eyes closed. I am already clean from tonight's bloody mission, but I still feel dirty. Everybody is already fast asleep; even Omi has already gone to sleep but not before he finished writing the mission report. So I'm here alone, secure in my isolation. Yes, just me and the rain tapping on my face.

My soaked cloths stick to my skin and make me feel heavier. The rain intensifies and becomes a full-blown shower. The wind blows and raises waves of chills through me. But I'm not moving. Not because it's hard to move with all my wet cloths, but because I want to stay. I want these sensations. I need them. These are the closest things to love that I'm going to experience in the next few years of my poor life. Love is like that, being in love is like that. Chills, goose-bumps, and hugs and so on, you get to feel all these things for real only when you're in love. So surely, I go out, hit on ladies, sleep with them, but that's where it ends. No love there. Because I would never be able to open up to them and tell them about my real profession, my real life-story. There will always be this secrecy about the years I've been doing this Weiss thing. The florist cover isn't going to work. And no love can exist with such mysteriousness and dishonesty going on.

Women hate that. Surely they like mysterious types, but at some point they want the truth. They want you to be completely honest. I would want that too. But it's not going to happen.

I sigh again and close my eyes, losing myself to the overwhelming sound of the rain around me. The roof has already started to fill up, creating a pool of an inch depth. It makes the new fatter drops of rain crash on the roof with a noisier thump. All the drops together sound like flock of birds' wings. Pigeons, actually.

I can easily get addicted to this sensation, and spend eternity like that without noticing.

I hum to myself an idiotic song, although I can hardly hear myself over the music around me.

Come to me,
Oh dear rain,
Come to wash away
My pain.

Wash away
My bloody sins,
Give this one
A bit of peace.

Stupid song… And since when am I into poetry stuff?

It seems the rain heard me, but as usual with my damn luck, it didn't give a shit. And not only that, but it also took it pretty bad, because it stopped raining. The strangest thing is that I still hear its tapping on the rest of the rooftop. What the hell is going on…? Why is it that whenever I find something good, it ends up too soon and horribly?

I open my eyes slowly and see a wide black wing spreading above me. Its metallic skeleton shines in the distant light of the traffic lights, coming from the city way beneath us. A bare metallic leg ends down inside a pale human hand.

Aya.

My gaze takes in his posture as he stands beside me, towering over me, with a large black umbrella in his hand to shield him and me from this wonderful rain. His eyes look down at me. Strangely they hold no anger or glares or whatever loathing they usually show.

I close my eyes and take use of this pause in the rain. I fumble for my inner pocket, taking out a cigarette pack, and pull one cig out, lighting it shortly after. I take a long inhale of it before speaking to him, still shutting him out of my sight.
"What do you want, Aya?"

"Come down." He says it so shortly and briskly, like it's an order.

I wipe my face off from the water with my hand. It's a stupid gesture since my hand is wet too. Another drag into my lungs, filling me with the slow poison, and only then I answer him. "I like it here." At least I'm honest. I can't say I wasn't hoping he would go away at this, but when I hear no movement and the continuing sound of rain tapping on the umbrella's dark skin, I am slightly disappointed. I want to tell him to walk away, leave me, do what everybody does when they play a role in my life, but I don't say a word.

A moment of silence stretches between us, letting the sounds of the downpour fill in the space.

"You will catch cold."

I smile ironically. "I don't mind."

The rainy silence continues.

"Get up." He says, and his tone reaching a new level of order.

I take out another cigarette and light it up, throwing the half-way smoked cigarette aside. I know he'll break soon. Aya doesn't care for other people so he doesn't really bother in insisting to help them. He might be stubborn on things but not all things. "I don't want to."

Because I know Aya that much, it surprises me to the point of bafflement and lack of balance when he suddenly pulls me up to my feet. I stand up straight and glare at him. He glares back at me. I'm starting to think that maybe knowing our fearless leader that much isn't all that much. However, it seems so unreasonable to me that I quickly raise doubts about it.

I walk away from him, away to the edge of the building. I lean on the high and fat cement-fence built there on the edge, looking down at the city spread out before me. "You see this city down before us? It's so alive..." I look back at him, over my shoulder. He doesn't move an inch. Something in his stance alarms me in the back of my mind, but I can't put my finger on it. I return to my survey on the city. So many lights, so many people and couples and kids, all just living out their lives, so many cars and buses and motors humming and buzzing… it all feels like a breath. "I want to be like it…"
I jump on this fence and stand on it. I know nobody will call the police because they don't see me. Everybody has their own lives, so they don't look up.
"I want to be like that, Aya… I want to breathe… to live… To shine with a thousand lights…" I spread my arms to my sides, to feel the breath of this city and the rain that revives it. I feel the rain on my face, but it's not entirely from the sky.

I turn around to face Aya but he looks different. I finally spot what it was before that alarmed me. There is weakness of some sort in his stance. Right now, he looks at me with eyes wider than usual. His stance is like a cat's, scared of something but standing close to the ground at ready, in case it would have to leap into action.

"But I can't do that, Aya... There's always this reality that pulls me down… always Weiss, and blood, and death… " I look down below me at the pavement, and more than ever it looked so inviting, tempting me to come to it and it'll hit me with reality, and shatter everything.

"Get down from there!" He calls to me, afraid I won't hear him over the sound of the rain.

"Why?" I shout back.

"It's dangerous!"

"Oh come on, Aya! Our everyday lives are dangerous! We go out to missions and risk our lives for people who aren't even related to us, every day! We live on the edge! Just like this one! And there is always the chance that we will fall!"

"Youji!"

Something feels desperate about that shout and I come off the edge to stand close to Aya. "What's wrong?" I ask without having to shout. Yet, his reply is still somewhat shouted, though unclear. He mumbles something about going home and turns to the roof's exit. I'm left with no choice but to leave my rain and follow him.

For a while as we go down the stairs, there is this tense silence. He doesn't look at me. He barely acknowledges my presence there. Just like I have known him to act like. I guess I can say we're back to the normal state of things.

"What did you come up there for?" I ask, though I don't expect an answer. He never answers my questions, unless a 'hm' or some other silent reaction is considered. I dispose of my cigarette, for it got wet and tasteless, and pull out a new one. I almost burn my hand with my lighter when he suddenly speaks. His voice is low and deep as usual but something in it trembles.

"Whenever you go up there… I… … …it feels like you won't be coming back down."

"Hmph. Everything that comes up must come down sometimes." I say simply, taking in new smoke from the cig.

Aya seems to shrink a little, he slows down a little, and his whole figure seems to fade a little. His next sentence makes me realize what he meant, and how well he reads me. He says it so quietly; like he's afraid I might actually hear it. "Not through the stairs…"

I fall to a deafening silence…

Of course…

How many times did I think about it – to go up there and never return home? How many times did the rain and the black sky above me make me want to run off and jump over the edge of the building? How many times did the sidewalk below call out to me? I wanted it so much. I wanted my death so much. I wanted an exit, a way to run away from this horrible life and shut it all behind me. I wanted to stop everything. I still want to, because I still feel like everything about me and around me holds still.

I stand alone for a moment, left with my angst and my shock at his words, at the top of the stairs. I watch his back rotating as he continues his silent walk down the stairs. I can feel the darkness in his eyes, the sense of empathy like he knows these things that go through my head.

Suddenly another thing hits me. He said 'I'. But why?...

I run after him down and grasp him, turning him around to face me. He's shocked and doesn't struggle. I look deeply into his eyes, searching for something I don't even know what it is. The words leave my mouth with no thought. "Aya… are you worried about me? Do you…?"

He then pushes me back and only then I realize I was pinning him to the wall.

"Sorry." I hear myself saying so hesitantly.

He looks away.

Silence again.

And without saying a word, he walks off.

The rest of the way down to the apartment is wordless, silent as the dead. He ignores me again, always looking away from me or down at the floor. I try to do the same but his words still echo in my head, and I try to find some meaning to it in his features. He notices my glances at him. I know it even though he looks like he doesn't, because each time he notices it he speeds his pace momentarily to keep us at a distance.

When we're at the door, we stop next to each other. I lean against the wall opposite to him, and he quietly fishes his keys out and unlocks the door. He knows I'm watching his every move, but he can't move away now. I see him furrowing his brows, brooding over something and struggling with himself. His eyes get stuck on the door as it slowly swings open. He just stands there frozen in time. Even when the door is wide open for him to enter, he doesn't move. Neither do I.
Finally his expression relaxes a bit and his eyelids fall heavy on his eyes. His earring shines once in the pale light of the stair-room as he gives out a small breath. Still unmoving, he opens his mouth a bit and in a voice very much unlike him, barely over a whisper, a word slips out.

"Yes."

After that, he quickly gets in, leaving me outside with my thoughts.

Yes…?
Is that an answer to my question from earlier?
Does that mean…?

I quickly come inside, searching for him in the living room, in the kitchen and on the balcony. But he's gone like he wasn't even there.

I go up to our private rooms and come to stand outside his door. My hand is already up, ready to knock on his door and enter. But I stop myself. I try to first figure out some things. What is this sudden rush to go after him? Why? What am I feeling? What is he feeling? Maybe this is just a worry for a friend, or a teammate, or simply a co-worker?

My hand drops to my side.

I stand there in front of his door, staring at nothing.

I shouldn't have come here. I shouldn't have raised my hopes. I'm just a big fool, hoping for something he cannot reach. Just like when I'm on the rooftop. I shouldn't have listened to his words, or misinterpret them.

I begin to turn around and leave, but a sound of a door opening and turning in its hinges gains my attention. My eyes follow the source of the sound and fall on a tall redheaded figure. The light from the window across gives him a sort of aura as he looks up at me. Those amazing amethyst eyes sparkle slightly under the frown of his brows. He's not mad. He's not glaring. He just frowns at me, like he is waiting for something.

I'm drawn to him suddenly. Before I even know what I'm doing, I step forward, coming so close to him I can feel his breath. He averts his gaze away, but I catch him again, holding his chin with my fingers. And I kiss him.

Our lips meet in a small brush, touching ever so softly. Aya's lips are warm and welcoming. He suckles a bit on my lips, and I return the favor, adding a small brush of my tongue along it. The kiss is tender and sweet, like I haven't felt for a long time. A shiver that runs through me moves on to him. My hair, still wet from my lying-around in the rain, drips a few cold drops on his neck, where the skin is exposed due to having a shirt that isn't a turtle-neck.

I want to cry.

I can feel my throat tightening, choking me.

But no tears come down.

This moment is too precious to be spoiled with tears.

He holds me close and we step into his room together, closing the door behind us. We look into each other's eyes, and I shake with realization as I see something there. In his beautiful eyes, along with the care and love that I see there, I see a gleam of something I've seen just a few minutes ago – the moon. The moon is in Aya's eyes. It's right there, in my reach. He's the one to bring me the moon from the sky.

I kiss his eyes.

Thank you, Aya.

owari

I enjoyed writing it so much. Let me know if you enjoyed it as much.
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