Author's Notes: Please leave your review. Thanks!
*****
Behind (Beneath) the Facade
Section One
Youji lay back on his bed. He slowly closed his eyes and let the darkness engulf his mind. Nothing relaxed him more than the comforting feeling of lying on his own bed with the blanket of darkness upon him. Nothing but . . .
* * *
Aya. What a character he is, Youji thought as he lay sprawled out on the bed. Of course he acts as though nothing phases him. That no human emotion ever crosses his mind. I don't understand why he does it, I know it's not him. He feels everything. Aya feels like the rest of us. We're all . . .
Lonely.
I suppose I should get up and get something to eat. Maybe Omi made something for dinner. Though I feel so tired. Maybe I'll just sleep for a little while before I eat.
Section Two
The bright, flamboyant sound of Youji's alarm goes off sending a jolting impulse through his body. He flailed his arm to shut it off but missed his target. Instead, he pushed it off the dresser causing it to plummet to the floor. He slowly opened his eyes and found that they were swollen. As he sat up in his bed he found that it looked as if Ken and a bunch of his soccer buddies had a drunken game there. Half of the sheets were wound tightly around his tall, thin body. The rest could be seen laying upon the cold floor.
Reluctantly, he unwrapped himself from his cocoon and made his way to the shower. It took him no more than a few seconds to rid himself of the clothes he fell asleep in and jump into the shower. The cold pipes dispersed a lukewarm water that he let drip upon his face. He avidly rubbed his face clean of any previous thought. The cool water comforting his tired, red eyes.
And he ran the water over his eyes quite frequently; just to be sure the memories washed away from him . . .
* * *
How does Aya find revenge for his sister's condition? She may never awaken, yet he seeks to rid the world of as much darkness as possible. Where is the motivation if the emotion isn't there? Indeed, the emotion is there. How can he hold in the pain?
And my dear Omi-kun . . . how he smiles constantly as if nothing is wrong in the world. Even though he knows our world is probably the most disturbed than any other. He's forever making Weiss happy when we find ourselves deep in the darkness.
Ken. Well, he's just Ken. He should get over his "friend's" death. Omi's younger and he had to kill his whole freakin' family. Ok, so I love the kid. But I know about his gun . . . Omi told me about it. We have to look out for each other. There's got to be some way I can get Ken on the right track. Weiss can get him on the right track.
That's Weiss' real goal.
This water's getting really cold . . . I should get out but it reminds me of that time. When we used to relax in the pool for fun.
Section Three
Youji stood still beneath the frigid water. Taking it in and processing the feeling it had upon his skin. He ran his fingers through his wet, blonde hair. He always thought about her when he cared for his hair. He couldn't help it. She used to say his hair was like fine silk, maybe even softer than silk.
He turned off the water and slowly stepped out of the shower. The room seemed extremely distant to Youji. He grabbed the nearest towel and began to wipe himself dry when he realized he had grabbed Omi's towel. It always smelled gently of lilacs. A smell Youji had grown accustomed to and even appreciated. He knew he enjoyed the young man's presence; even if he didn't like to admit it to anyone. Without a second thought he folded and hung the damp towel to dry.
The bathroom mirror hung carelessly on the wall. And, as always, it beckoned to the green eyes standing before it. Youji stood still gazing at his parallel with his face completely somber.
"Asuka . . ."
* * *
Too many mirrors to remind me of her love and the sadness I now posses in my eyes. I should have told her to stay with me. I could have held her in my arms and she would be safe today like me. Instead, I made her leave me. Damn! I could have protected her! But now I'm left with only her sweet memories, and the gentle she once spoke to me, floating aimlessly in my mind.
She had always loved dressing in fun and outrageous styles. Of course, I had always had fun trying new, different styles. But it Asuka who made it my trademark. How we did love making new outfits together. Together. We were a pair . . . a team . . . always together and I made her leave. But what was so wonderful about her was that she loved me. I didn't have to try to win her over. I was hers . . . and she was mine. Now, no girl wants me for who I am. I'm just a twenty minute excitement for them.
Ken-kun, him and I are really close. Though quite a bit differently than Asuka and I. I have to look out for him. He's quite the fragile guy despite popular belief. He doesn't have a high threshold for death and pain like the rest of us. His pain has put him over the edge . . . or too close to the edge. Every night, I go into his room to check on him. He must feel so empty and alone, and he doesn't even realize that I am here for him. We're all here for him and we all know his pain.
Section Four
While reaching for his comb he stared into the mirror. Perhaps trying to find himself. Anymore, you could see the real Youji in his reflection. When he saw what his lover saw in him . . . that's when he became alive again. When his life revolved around that one person. It was then that you could see the crying man who wanted nothing more than his lover, his partner, to return. His love for her remains in his heart, clothes, and hair. His sorrow held inside by cigarettes and flirting. He doesn't know why he flirts. Perhaps out of loneliness . . . maybe out of desperation.
* * *
I hope we all find happiness within ourselves. I hope we lean on each other in our struggle to find our happiness.
Section Five
Youji, hair dry and almost completely dressed, grabbed her favorite glasses and propped them upon his head. People though it was silly - perhaps even stupid - of him to wear his glasses all of the time, but they didn't know . . . didn't know her. Asuka had always joked that she fell for him when he put on a pair of sunglasses. Now, without her presence, he wore them non-stop in her honor.
He grabbed his ruby red jacket and threw it over his a-tad-too-short black T-shirt. His leather pants clung to his body, but he wasn't to be bothered with such a thought. Asuka had always loved this outfit. He smiled into the mirror. It was her day today. The very day, a year ago, that his `normal' life ended and his life with Weiss began.
"For you, darling."
He walked out of the room and, once beyond the mirrors reach, he pulled out a small white cigarette. His large, yet graceful, hand pulled out a lighter to light it. A quick puff and he stared at the white form in his hand.
"This is to Weiss," he took another puff and exhaled softly into the air. "I hope we find happiness together soon."
*****
I don't think this is going TBC, but you never know. We'll see if I can come up with anything, but it hurts my head. _
*****
Behind (Beneath) the Facade
Section One
Youji lay back on his bed. He slowly closed his eyes and let the darkness engulf his mind. Nothing relaxed him more than the comforting feeling of lying on his own bed with the blanket of darkness upon him. Nothing but . . .
* * *
Aya. What a character he is, Youji thought as he lay sprawled out on the bed. Of course he acts as though nothing phases him. That no human emotion ever crosses his mind. I don't understand why he does it, I know it's not him. He feels everything. Aya feels like the rest of us. We're all . . .
Lonely.
I suppose I should get up and get something to eat. Maybe Omi made something for dinner. Though I feel so tired. Maybe I'll just sleep for a little while before I eat.
Section Two
The bright, flamboyant sound of Youji's alarm goes off sending a jolting impulse through his body. He flailed his arm to shut it off but missed his target. Instead, he pushed it off the dresser causing it to plummet to the floor. He slowly opened his eyes and found that they were swollen. As he sat up in his bed he found that it looked as if Ken and a bunch of his soccer buddies had a drunken game there. Half of the sheets were wound tightly around his tall, thin body. The rest could be seen laying upon the cold floor.
Reluctantly, he unwrapped himself from his cocoon and made his way to the shower. It took him no more than a few seconds to rid himself of the clothes he fell asleep in and jump into the shower. The cold pipes dispersed a lukewarm water that he let drip upon his face. He avidly rubbed his face clean of any previous thought. The cool water comforting his tired, red eyes.
And he ran the water over his eyes quite frequently; just to be sure the memories washed away from him . . .
* * *
How does Aya find revenge for his sister's condition? She may never awaken, yet he seeks to rid the world of as much darkness as possible. Where is the motivation if the emotion isn't there? Indeed, the emotion is there. How can he hold in the pain?
And my dear Omi-kun . . . how he smiles constantly as if nothing is wrong in the world. Even though he knows our world is probably the most disturbed than any other. He's forever making Weiss happy when we find ourselves deep in the darkness.
Ken. Well, he's just Ken. He should get over his "friend's" death. Omi's younger and he had to kill his whole freakin' family. Ok, so I love the kid. But I know about his gun . . . Omi told me about it. We have to look out for each other. There's got to be some way I can get Ken on the right track. Weiss can get him on the right track.
That's Weiss' real goal.
This water's getting really cold . . . I should get out but it reminds me of that time. When we used to relax in the pool for fun.
Section Three
Youji stood still beneath the frigid water. Taking it in and processing the feeling it had upon his skin. He ran his fingers through his wet, blonde hair. He always thought about her when he cared for his hair. He couldn't help it. She used to say his hair was like fine silk, maybe even softer than silk.
He turned off the water and slowly stepped out of the shower. The room seemed extremely distant to Youji. He grabbed the nearest towel and began to wipe himself dry when he realized he had grabbed Omi's towel. It always smelled gently of lilacs. A smell Youji had grown accustomed to and even appreciated. He knew he enjoyed the young man's presence; even if he didn't like to admit it to anyone. Without a second thought he folded and hung the damp towel to dry.
The bathroom mirror hung carelessly on the wall. And, as always, it beckoned to the green eyes standing before it. Youji stood still gazing at his parallel with his face completely somber.
"Asuka . . ."
* * *
Too many mirrors to remind me of her love and the sadness I now posses in my eyes. I should have told her to stay with me. I could have held her in my arms and she would be safe today like me. Instead, I made her leave me. Damn! I could have protected her! But now I'm left with only her sweet memories, and the gentle she once spoke to me, floating aimlessly in my mind.
She had always loved dressing in fun and outrageous styles. Of course, I had always had fun trying new, different styles. But it Asuka who made it my trademark. How we did love making new outfits together. Together. We were a pair . . . a team . . . always together and I made her leave. But what was so wonderful about her was that she loved me. I didn't have to try to win her over. I was hers . . . and she was mine. Now, no girl wants me for who I am. I'm just a twenty minute excitement for them.
Ken-kun, him and I are really close. Though quite a bit differently than Asuka and I. I have to look out for him. He's quite the fragile guy despite popular belief. He doesn't have a high threshold for death and pain like the rest of us. His pain has put him over the edge . . . or too close to the edge. Every night, I go into his room to check on him. He must feel so empty and alone, and he doesn't even realize that I am here for him. We're all here for him and we all know his pain.
Section Four
While reaching for his comb he stared into the mirror. Perhaps trying to find himself. Anymore, you could see the real Youji in his reflection. When he saw what his lover saw in him . . . that's when he became alive again. When his life revolved around that one person. It was then that you could see the crying man who wanted nothing more than his lover, his partner, to return. His love for her remains in his heart, clothes, and hair. His sorrow held inside by cigarettes and flirting. He doesn't know why he flirts. Perhaps out of loneliness . . . maybe out of desperation.
* * *
I hope we all find happiness within ourselves. I hope we lean on each other in our struggle to find our happiness.
Section Five
Youji, hair dry and almost completely dressed, grabbed her favorite glasses and propped them upon his head. People though it was silly - perhaps even stupid - of him to wear his glasses all of the time, but they didn't know . . . didn't know her. Asuka had always joked that she fell for him when he put on a pair of sunglasses. Now, without her presence, he wore them non-stop in her honor.
He grabbed his ruby red jacket and threw it over his a-tad-too-short black T-shirt. His leather pants clung to his body, but he wasn't to be bothered with such a thought. Asuka had always loved this outfit. He smiled into the mirror. It was her day today. The very day, a year ago, that his `normal' life ended and his life with Weiss began.
"For you, darling."
He walked out of the room and, once beyond the mirrors reach, he pulled out a small white cigarette. His large, yet graceful, hand pulled out a lighter to light it. A quick puff and he stared at the white form in his hand.
"This is to Weiss," he took another puff and exhaled softly into the air. "I hope we find happiness together soon."
*****
I don't think this is going TBC, but you never know. We'll see if I can come up with anything, but it hurts my head. _