Title: Hope and Memory
Author: Rayven Blackwood
Series: Weiß Kreuz/ Weiß Kreuz Gluhen
Pairings: Yohji/Ran
Category: Romance/Drama/Angst
Rating: R
Warnings: Allusions to homosexual intercourse, angst, and beautiful boys
Disclaimer: Weiß Kreuz and any connection thereto belong to Project Weiss.
The song Amazing Kiss belongs to BoA. Original concept belongs to the
author, Rayven Blackwood
Author's Notes: Takes place right after the happenings of episode 13 of
Weiß Kreuz. All is not sunshine a lollipops in Yohji's life as he discovers
bit by bit who he was in the time before, and why he was compelled to bring
a recuperating man into his house, life, and heart.
Originally written as the precursor to a post-Gluhen series that I didn't
manage to finish, I decided to adapt it for the Amazing Kiss
fanfiction/fanart competition run by Mako-chan. For the sake of my own
sanity and character history, I'm blending the Weiß Kreuz and Weiß Kreuz
Gluhen timelines. I don't suggest reading this fic if you don't want
spoilers for both of these series.
As I lay awake Another night of heartbreak
Longing for you hits me out of the blue
Part One: Stray from Reality
It had been a year and a half, Yohji thought as he ambled towards home. A year and a half in this new life. Eighteen months since his existence had been 'reset', as it were. Eighteen months since he'd first met Asuka.
Yohji smiled at the thought of his wife. After only eight short months of knowing each other –most of it revolving around his recuperation- he had proposed, and she had accepted. They had been married two months after that. Since he had no recollection or who or what he had been in his past, nor if he owned a house or any type of place to stay, they had moved into Asuka's apartment. While she put in extra shifts at the hospital, he began to look for odd jobs. He landed one at a small flower shop not too far away from their place. It was within walking distance on a nice day, so they were able to save money on subway cards.
Apparently he'd had a knack for flowers at some point in his other life. He managed to name all of them, and seemed to know how to make the arrangements look just right. Yohji was grateful that he'd found such a seemingly easy job with good pay and a good boss. Aya-chan had never asked questions about him, other than for vital information, such as his address and cell phone number. She was very big on personal privacy, and had a few strict rules about it, too. She wouldn't go snooping into his business, if he kept his nose out of hers. Yohji had found this to be a bit odd, but she was adamant on that point, and that point alone. Besides, what need did he have, to go into her private affairs? There were few other rules about the Koneko. Hours were relatively flexible, as she lived above the little shop. Pay was fair, and she supplied lunch and, on occasion, dinner when Koneko was open late. She wouldn't tell him her last name, which Yohji had found odd, and, she had asked that he didn't call her Aya, but Aya-chan.
Aya-chan. The name had stirred something within him when he'd first heard it, but he couldn't place it. When he'd asked her, she'd replied blithely 'Koudoh-kun, Aya is a common enough name.' So he'd shrugged it off, and after a few weeks had passed, forgotten all about the incident.
Occasionally he had troublesome spells. Feelings of guilt and depression, a longing to go out and party. Dreams of three men sometimes woke him in the middle of the night, leaving him covered in a cold sweat. He never remembered them. At one point Aya-chan had dropped a vase, and the shattering sound had him ducking under the counter and pulling at his watch. It seemed as if his body was trying to do something that his mind wasn't needed for.
Aya-chan wasn't even startled by the reaction. She just told him that everything was fine, and asked him to deal with the glass while she went to wash the cut on her hand. Then she'd politely turned and asked the customers if they could please come back another time, they would be more capable of serving them. The young couple had looked at Yohji askance, and agreed, leaving Yohji to clean up the glass with naught but his troubled thoughts for company.
But such incidences were few and far between. So on this beautiful, if chilly, October afternoon, he walked home with a bouquet of fresh cattleyas for Asuka. Aya-chan always gave him a bundle of the flowers to bring home to his wife, although he never knew why. They weren't Asuka's favourite, nor did she say they held any special meaning to her. But Aya-chan always insisted. Not wanting to offend the young woman, Yohji always acquiesced. The smell made the apartment homey, and fresh flowers always brightened up a room.
Yohji began to whistle quietly, a tune that he'd picked up from god knows where. He couldn't help but feel happy. He may only be a florist, but he was a florist with a fair and over-generous boss, a fine home, and an amazing, loving, beautiful wife. Life was good for Kudoh Yohji, and that was just fine with him.
The song died on his lips as he noticed a commotion up ahead. People were gathered around a trash bin...no, they were gathered around the man who was collapsed next to the trash-bin. He lay in the fetal position, hand pressed against his side. Red hair fell across his face, obscuring it from view, but Yohji could tell by the extremely pale colour of his skin that he'd gone into shock. Blood poured between his fingers where they wrapped around an ivory knife-hilt.
Something clicked in his head. "Call 119!" he shouted, slicing quickly through the crowd. The gathering of people turned as one to stare at him. They moved quickly out of the way as Yohji came barreling towards the fallen man. Placing a hand on the man's cheek, Yohji swore at how cold he was. He took off his coat and draped it over his shoulders and upper chest, careful not to disturb the lower abdomen. "He's gone into shock, but we can't move him." He said to no one in particular. "Somebody, drape your coat across his legs. We have to keep him relatively warm until the ambulance gets here."
Seconds ticked by, and no one moved. The man grunted, his face stretched in pain. "God damnit! It's only for a few minutes, until the ambulance gets here. He'll die if we don't keep him warm!" And he may die yet. He added silently. His stomach was pumping out blood steadily, meaning no main arteries were severed. But depending on which organs the blade had hit...it could spell death for the man.
All of this knowledge was new to him. He might have picked some of it up from Asuka, but he didn't think it plausible. No, this information had been his for a long time. But even as he thought about it, it began to slip away again. No! He thought desperately. I need to save him! I need to remember! So he knelt behind the fallen man's head, and raised his head to rest in his lap.
The crowd stirred as a young woman took off her ankle-length coat and tucked it around his legs. Yohji looked at her, appreciation and thanks shining in his eyes.
The man stirred, looked up into his face. Startlingly violet eyes caught Yohji's. Eyes that were the same colour as Aya-chan's. "Yoh...ji?" he whispered, voice hoarse. The blond could do nothing but nod his head. A vision came to him, this same man standing tall, wearing glasses, and with long hair tied in a braid down the length of his back. Yohji's voice hitched.
"I'm here...Aya." He shook his head. Why did he just call him his boss' name? But it seemed to put the man at ease. He relaxed a little, his head resting on Yohji's knees. "Don't...leave, 'kay?" his voice was slurred as shock got a better grip on him. "I won't." The blond promised, and knew that while he had no idea why, he wouldn't break it, no matter what.
Relief flooded through him as he heard the harsh screams of the ambulance siren. The paramedics clambered out of the vehicle with their stretcher, and the area was a scene of controlled chaos as the medics got to work, stabilizing the dagger, stretching 'Aya' out on the board, bracing him against it. Yohji collected the two jackets and moved out of harms way, allowing the professionals to do their job. It was only when they were loading him into the awaiting vehicle that Yohji remembered his promise not to leave. He turned to the shivering woman next to him, and thanked her for lending her jacket, then ran over to the ambulance. They were about to close the doors when he stopped them, hand on the door.
"I'm coming with you. I promised I wouldn't leave." He said, his voice calm. The paramedic nodded and waited while Yohji climbed inside to close the door. Everything inside seemed vaguely familiar to the florist, as if he'd seen it before. Which was highly likely, he thought, seeing as he'd come to the hospital from an explosion site.
For the first three minutes of the five-minute ride to the hospital, Yohji was ignored. The medics worked around him skillfully, stabilizing 'Aya's' blood pressure, elevating his feet to reduce the impact of shock, and doing all manner of other things that Yohji nearly recognized. The entire situation was playing havoc on his mind, things that he thought he knew, but didn't quite. Terms that teased memory, 'Aya', a man he recognized –no, a man that he knew, quite well. Or, at least he knew he should know him quite well.
He wasn't stabilizing, Yohji realized. He'd lost too much blood, and, if he knew Aya, perhaps the will to live, as well. What? Yohji shook his head. Where had that come from? He groaned and rested his head in his hands; suddenly wishing his hair was long enough to run his fingers through. Why did he know this man? Why did he know about his will to live? How were they connected? Granted, twenty-seven years was a lot of time to build connections to people. But from what point in his life did Fujimiya come from? What?
"A-Aya. Fujimiya." Yohji said wonderingly. "His name is Fujimiya Aya. He's twenty-six Or he was two years ago, which means he's twenty-eight. His blood type is...oh gods above...I nearly had it too." He rubbed a hand through his short, fuzzy hair again. The paramedic –he managed to snag a look at his nametag, proclaiming the man to be 'Hiwatari Shinji'- was openly staring at him. Yohji could only blink, then shrugged nonchalantly.
"I suffer from severe acute amnesia. I woke up nearly two years ago in the hospital, with no knowledge of even my name. I've regained very little since then. But I know things about him. I'm trying to make sure I don't forget them." He said by way of explanation. Yohji knew the 'medic wanted to say more, but just then one of the various machines that Aya was hooked into went off in an explosion of noise, and the two EMT's had their hands full dealing with him until they reached the hospital.
As soon as the ambulance came to a halt, the doors were pulled open, and three nurses waited to help transfer Aya onto an emergency room stretcher. Yohji was so intent on staying out of everyone's way, he didn't recognize Asuka until she called to him. "Yohji? What are you doing here? Who is he? Are you hurt?"
She didn't leave where she was, trying to make the change of stretchers as easy as possible, but the fear and concern were palpable in her voice. He blinked, dodged out of the way of an oncoming nurse, and answered "I...I think I know him. You know, from before." He didn't say any more, as Asuka was rushing into the building, along with the two paramedics and nurses. Meanwhile an orderly was walking towards him, clipboard in hand.
"Sir, please come with me. There is nothing you can do for him right now, except help make his registration pass swiftly, so that when he comes out of surgery, there's a room for him." The orderly was polite, crisp, and right to the point. His deep, smooth voice did nothing to calm Yohji's nerves, but he just nodded and followed him into the building by another door. He was given a tiny closet of a room to fill out the forms in peace and quiet, with the understanding that the orderly would be back within the next half-hour to collect the papers.
The blond stared at the crest that was printed on the right-hand corner of the sheet. It read 'Magicbus Hospital', along with the address and the years it had been in operation. Funny, he'd known this hospital was the Magicbus, so why did it stir something in him head now?
With a sigh and shrug, Yohji filed the thought away for later. Now it was time for paperwork. Something he hadn't done in...ever, as far as he knew. At least, not paperwork that wasn't for Aya-chan and the Koneko. Yet this seemed so normal, to be filling out Magicbus medical slips.
The first line stared at him. NAME, LAST. That was easy enough. Kudoh. NAME, FIRST. Again, not so bad. Yohji. RELATION TO PATIENT. And there he stopped. What was his relation to the redheaded man that made him feel so utterly determined to stay with him? He had no idea. Try as he might, no reason came to him. The glass wall that kept his memories away from him wouldn't budge. Apparently he'd remembered all he was going to, today.
Mechanically he filled in what fields he could, leaving the rest blank. As for the relation section, he wrote 'close friend' and left it at that. He left his cell phone number at the bottom of the page, and a note saying that his wife also worked there in the hospital. With nothing left to write and time to burn, the florist left the papers on the desk and walked out of the cramped space, leaving the door open. The orderly could pick up the papers if he wasn't there, but Yohji wanted air, and space to think.
As I lay awake Another night of heartbreak
Longing for you hits me out of the blue
Part One: Stray from Reality
It had been a year and a half, Yohji thought as he ambled towards home. A year and a half in this new life. Eighteen months since his existence had been 'reset', as it were. Eighteen months since he'd first met Asuka.
Yohji smiled at the thought of his wife. After only eight short months of knowing each other –most of it revolving around his recuperation- he had proposed, and she had accepted. They had been married two months after that. Since he had no recollection or who or what he had been in his past, nor if he owned a house or any type of place to stay, they had moved into Asuka's apartment. While she put in extra shifts at the hospital, he began to look for odd jobs. He landed one at a small flower shop not too far away from their place. It was within walking distance on a nice day, so they were able to save money on subway cards.
Apparently he'd had a knack for flowers at some point in his other life. He managed to name all of them, and seemed to know how to make the arrangements look just right. Yohji was grateful that he'd found such a seemingly easy job with good pay and a good boss. Aya-chan had never asked questions about him, other than for vital information, such as his address and cell phone number. She was very big on personal privacy, and had a few strict rules about it, too. She wouldn't go snooping into his business, if he kept his nose out of hers. Yohji had found this to be a bit odd, but she was adamant on that point, and that point alone. Besides, what need did he have, to go into her private affairs? There were few other rules about the Koneko. Hours were relatively flexible, as she lived above the little shop. Pay was fair, and she supplied lunch and, on occasion, dinner when Koneko was open late. She wouldn't tell him her last name, which Yohji had found odd, and, she had asked that he didn't call her Aya, but Aya-chan.
Aya-chan. The name had stirred something within him when he'd first heard it, but he couldn't place it. When he'd asked her, she'd replied blithely 'Koudoh-kun, Aya is a common enough name.' So he'd shrugged it off, and after a few weeks had passed, forgotten all about the incident.
Occasionally he had troublesome spells. Feelings of guilt and depression, a longing to go out and party. Dreams of three men sometimes woke him in the middle of the night, leaving him covered in a cold sweat. He never remembered them. At one point Aya-chan had dropped a vase, and the shattering sound had him ducking under the counter and pulling at his watch. It seemed as if his body was trying to do something that his mind wasn't needed for.
Aya-chan wasn't even startled by the reaction. She just told him that everything was fine, and asked him to deal with the glass while she went to wash the cut on her hand. Then she'd politely turned and asked the customers if they could please come back another time, they would be more capable of serving them. The young couple had looked at Yohji askance, and agreed, leaving Yohji to clean up the glass with naught but his troubled thoughts for company.
But such incidences were few and far between. So on this beautiful, if chilly, October afternoon, he walked home with a bouquet of fresh cattleyas for Asuka. Aya-chan always gave him a bundle of the flowers to bring home to his wife, although he never knew why. They weren't Asuka's favourite, nor did she say they held any special meaning to her. But Aya-chan always insisted. Not wanting to offend the young woman, Yohji always acquiesced. The smell made the apartment homey, and fresh flowers always brightened up a room.
Yohji began to whistle quietly, a tune that he'd picked up from god knows where. He couldn't help but feel happy. He may only be a florist, but he was a florist with a fair and over-generous boss, a fine home, and an amazing, loving, beautiful wife. Life was good for Kudoh Yohji, and that was just fine with him.
The song died on his lips as he noticed a commotion up ahead. People were gathered around a trash bin...no, they were gathered around the man who was collapsed next to the trash-bin. He lay in the fetal position, hand pressed against his side. Red hair fell across his face, obscuring it from view, but Yohji could tell by the extremely pale colour of his skin that he'd gone into shock. Blood poured between his fingers where they wrapped around an ivory knife-hilt.
Something clicked in his head. "Call 119!" he shouted, slicing quickly through the crowd. The gathering of people turned as one to stare at him. They moved quickly out of the way as Yohji came barreling towards the fallen man. Placing a hand on the man's cheek, Yohji swore at how cold he was. He took off his coat and draped it over his shoulders and upper chest, careful not to disturb the lower abdomen. "He's gone into shock, but we can't move him." He said to no one in particular. "Somebody, drape your coat across his legs. We have to keep him relatively warm until the ambulance gets here."
Seconds ticked by, and no one moved. The man grunted, his face stretched in pain. "God damnit! It's only for a few minutes, until the ambulance gets here. He'll die if we don't keep him warm!" And he may die yet. He added silently. His stomach was pumping out blood steadily, meaning no main arteries were severed. But depending on which organs the blade had hit...it could spell death for the man.
All of this knowledge was new to him. He might have picked some of it up from Asuka, but he didn't think it plausible. No, this information had been his for a long time. But even as he thought about it, it began to slip away again. No! He thought desperately. I need to save him! I need to remember! So he knelt behind the fallen man's head, and raised his head to rest in his lap.
The crowd stirred as a young woman took off her ankle-length coat and tucked it around his legs. Yohji looked at her, appreciation and thanks shining in his eyes.
The man stirred, looked up into his face. Startlingly violet eyes caught Yohji's. Eyes that were the same colour as Aya-chan's. "Yoh...ji?" he whispered, voice hoarse. The blond could do nothing but nod his head. A vision came to him, this same man standing tall, wearing glasses, and with long hair tied in a braid down the length of his back. Yohji's voice hitched.
"I'm here...Aya." He shook his head. Why did he just call him his boss' name? But it seemed to put the man at ease. He relaxed a little, his head resting on Yohji's knees. "Don't...leave, 'kay?" his voice was slurred as shock got a better grip on him. "I won't." The blond promised, and knew that while he had no idea why, he wouldn't break it, no matter what.
Relief flooded through him as he heard the harsh screams of the ambulance siren. The paramedics clambered out of the vehicle with their stretcher, and the area was a scene of controlled chaos as the medics got to work, stabilizing the dagger, stretching 'Aya' out on the board, bracing him against it. Yohji collected the two jackets and moved out of harms way, allowing the professionals to do their job. It was only when they were loading him into the awaiting vehicle that Yohji remembered his promise not to leave. He turned to the shivering woman next to him, and thanked her for lending her jacket, then ran over to the ambulance. They were about to close the doors when he stopped them, hand on the door.
"I'm coming with you. I promised I wouldn't leave." He said, his voice calm. The paramedic nodded and waited while Yohji climbed inside to close the door. Everything inside seemed vaguely familiar to the florist, as if he'd seen it before. Which was highly likely, he thought, seeing as he'd come to the hospital from an explosion site.
For the first three minutes of the five-minute ride to the hospital, Yohji was ignored. The medics worked around him skillfully, stabilizing 'Aya's' blood pressure, elevating his feet to reduce the impact of shock, and doing all manner of other things that Yohji nearly recognized. The entire situation was playing havoc on his mind, things that he thought he knew, but didn't quite. Terms that teased memory, 'Aya', a man he recognized –no, a man that he knew, quite well. Or, at least he knew he should know him quite well.
He wasn't stabilizing, Yohji realized. He'd lost too much blood, and, if he knew Aya, perhaps the will to live, as well. What? Yohji shook his head. Where had that come from? He groaned and rested his head in his hands; suddenly wishing his hair was long enough to run his fingers through. Why did he know this man? Why did he know about his will to live? How were they connected? Granted, twenty-seven years was a lot of time to build connections to people. But from what point in his life did Fujimiya come from? What?
"A-Aya. Fujimiya." Yohji said wonderingly. "His name is Fujimiya Aya. He's twenty-six Or he was two years ago, which means he's twenty-eight. His blood type is...oh gods above...I nearly had it too." He rubbed a hand through his short, fuzzy hair again. The paramedic –he managed to snag a look at his nametag, proclaiming the man to be 'Hiwatari Shinji'- was openly staring at him. Yohji could only blink, then shrugged nonchalantly.
"I suffer from severe acute amnesia. I woke up nearly two years ago in the hospital, with no knowledge of even my name. I've regained very little since then. But I know things about him. I'm trying to make sure I don't forget them." He said by way of explanation. Yohji knew the 'medic wanted to say more, but just then one of the various machines that Aya was hooked into went off in an explosion of noise, and the two EMT's had their hands full dealing with him until they reached the hospital.
As soon as the ambulance came to a halt, the doors were pulled open, and three nurses waited to help transfer Aya onto an emergency room stretcher. Yohji was so intent on staying out of everyone's way, he didn't recognize Asuka until she called to him. "Yohji? What are you doing here? Who is he? Are you hurt?"
She didn't leave where she was, trying to make the change of stretchers as easy as possible, but the fear and concern were palpable in her voice. He blinked, dodged out of the way of an oncoming nurse, and answered "I...I think I know him. You know, from before." He didn't say any more, as Asuka was rushing into the building, along with the two paramedics and nurses. Meanwhile an orderly was walking towards him, clipboard in hand.
"Sir, please come with me. There is nothing you can do for him right now, except help make his registration pass swiftly, so that when he comes out of surgery, there's a room for him." The orderly was polite, crisp, and right to the point. His deep, smooth voice did nothing to calm Yohji's nerves, but he just nodded and followed him into the building by another door. He was given a tiny closet of a room to fill out the forms in peace and quiet, with the understanding that the orderly would be back within the next half-hour to collect the papers.
The blond stared at the crest that was printed on the right-hand corner of the sheet. It read 'Magicbus Hospital', along with the address and the years it had been in operation. Funny, he'd known this hospital was the Magicbus, so why did it stir something in him head now?
With a sigh and shrug, Yohji filed the thought away for later. Now it was time for paperwork. Something he hadn't done in...ever, as far as he knew. At least, not paperwork that wasn't for Aya-chan and the Koneko. Yet this seemed so normal, to be filling out Magicbus medical slips.
The first line stared at him. NAME, LAST. That was easy enough. Kudoh. NAME, FIRST. Again, not so bad. Yohji. RELATION TO PATIENT. And there he stopped. What was his relation to the redheaded man that made him feel so utterly determined to stay with him? He had no idea. Try as he might, no reason came to him. The glass wall that kept his memories away from him wouldn't budge. Apparently he'd remembered all he was going to, today.
Mechanically he filled in what fields he could, leaving the rest blank. As for the relation section, he wrote 'close friend' and left it at that. He left his cell phone number at the bottom of the page, and a note saying that his wife also worked there in the hospital. With nothing left to write and time to burn, the florist left the papers on the desk and walked out of the cramped space, leaving the door open. The orderly could pick up the papers if he wasn't there, but Yohji wanted air, and space to think.