Disclaimer: Aya, Yohji, and Weiss STILL belong to those Japanese people. The angst still half-belongs to me.
Notes: This fic was inspired by a song called "I Know You By Heart" by Eva Cassidy. Please listen to it on youtube or imeem or dizzler. It's a very good song, and fits the ambience of the story.
The story goes back and forth between scenes of things that (theoretically) happened in the time frame of the show, or shortly after Gluhen, and the italicized portions, which happen long after Yohji loses his memory and Aya goes to the US or wherever. This story assumes that Aya and Yohji had some form of a romantic relationship in the past, though I imagined the first scene to happen before they started the relationship. Also, "Suki desu" is literally "I like you", but is used more often than "Aishiteru" when one wants to say "I love you". From what I understand, "aishiteru" is very rarely used. OK, please leave me some comments, and I hope it's not too bad...
Seasons
"Where are Omi and Ken?" Aya asked quietly, entering the living room with a warm cup of tea encircled in his hands. Yohji sprawled on the couch, his face illuminated by the fireplace, and the rest of his black-clad body invisible in the darkness. The blond man shrugged at the question.
"They've gone to bed."
"Oh."
"Sit," commanded Yohji, though not demandingly, patting the space next to him. Aya obeyed, drawing his limbs near to his body in a little ball. "Cold?" Yohji asked him, amused. Aya nodded and pulled more tightly into himself, as Yohji laughed and tugged at a blanket they both seemed to be sitting on.
Once the blanket came loose, Yohji moved closer to Aya and encompassed both of them in its warmth. When Aya turned, he found Yohji smiling at him, a brilliant, glowing, ethereal smile. Aya's lips turned upward ever so slightly, and he let his head fall on to Yohji's shoulder.
He liked being warm.
--
It was snowing again tonight. This time he wasn't in Villa Weiss, and his heater was working fine. Somehow, though, even with the furnace on full-blast, Aya was cold.
He hated being cold.
--
"Tell me something, Yohji," he said one rainy spring morning, feeling indulgent and lighter than usual.
"What?" Yohji queried, raising an eyebrow from beside him, expecting a rhetorical question about being on time for work.
"No, I mean, tell me something. About yourself. That I don't know." Yohji grinned.
"Well…when I was in grade school, I kept getting in trouble for a while because I'd run over to groups of girls and pull my pants down." His grin widened when he saw Aya laughing into his hands.
"You were a pervert even then?"
"That's me!" Yohji answered happily. "Your turn, Aya."
"Mm, well…" Aya began, surprising both of them with the lack of coldness or fighting that usually ensued when Yohji pushed Aya to talk about himself.
"Aya-kun! Yohji-kun! Time to get up for work!" Omi's childish voice interrupted from downstairs, breaking the spell. "Ken has to leave for soccer today!"
Later, when Omi and Ken were gone, and the shop was closed for an early lunch, Aya and Yohji walked over to a café nearby. "Going to tell me what you were about to say earlier?" Yohji asked conversationally, "Or is that done with now?" Aya smiled and shook his head.
"I never did anything as a child, until Aya-chan started school and forced me to participate in activities. She made me join ikebana with her, and I absolutely hated it, not the least because the other members were all pricks. So eventually we both quit, and one day I went to their supply room and sprinkled vinegar in all their arrangements."
Yohji nearly choked before bending himself in half with laughter. "You…you were a demon child, Aya!" There was a mischievous sparkle in Aya's eyes.
"They deserved it. And Aya-chan laughed so hard when I told her why all the ikebana club's flowers died during the cultural festival, so it was worth it."
"Did you get caught?"
"Of course not. They didn't think I was smart enough." Yohji grinned as he leaned over.
"Now. My turn to tell a secret."
"Yohji, you don't have to—"
He whispered it in Aya's ear anyway.
--
The last words from that beautiful morning still rang in Aya's head, while he daydreamed or while he slept, or when he looked outside at the blossoming cherry trees. "A-ya…"
He still could not completely believe Yohji's secret. How had someone like Yohji managed to care so much? "Suki…"
But the words were never a lie. "…desu."
--
One balmy night in July, on his way home from work, in a place far from Japan, Aya heard it again.
"A-ya…"
He froze, afraid of his own imagination. Slowly, excruciatingly, he spun around, and…
…and…
…there was nothing.
He berated himself for hoping, and continued on his way.
It must be all in his head.
"…suki…desu…"
--
Summers were always the hardest, because he was still cold, even in the heat.
He hated being cold.
--
The parking lot was surrounded by maple trees, which dropped their gaily-colored leaves on to those who walked below.
It was cold the morning he walked out of the hospital where there was no Yohji, only a man with no memory or past.
A man who belonged to himself now, and not…anyone else.
--
When autumn came around in his new home, Aya would disappear for hours at a time. The colors always made him nostalgic, for home and Japan and Aya-chan. For Weiss, even.
And…for a man who told him secrets and kept him warm and called his name.
For a man who was still with him, even though he had sworn to let go.
For a man he knew too well to ever forget.