Ch.4: Leave It All Behind
For the first time in his life, he woke to blessed silence. Not to the annoying
clash of the alarm clock, not to Omi pounding the door, not to birds chirping outside of the
window, just to wonderful, silent silence, no sound at all, except for his own rhythmic
breathing. He sank back with renewed exhaustion from the last night's mission, closing his
eyes. On impulse, he reached out his right hand to grasp the alarm clock, and found he
couldn't move his hand. He sat up, and realized that something was very, very wrong.
He had been sleeping in Youji's apartment. It had been 2 floors lower than his, but
that wasn't the shock. As his eyes flickered in horror at the softly breathing figure with
his hand on top of his, he balked, and looked down. He gasped in surprise and horror as he
realized he was still clad in his girl clothes, the clothes he had worn to the mission that
night. Since he was in Youji's bed, he could only guess that Aya/Ran had picked him up.
But there was now the larger current problem. There was now no doubt that Youji recognized
him now, without his wig and without makeup. He had gone against his own principles, the
"Liar Rule", as Youji had once called it, a long time ago. He hated liars of any kind,
always tried to be honest, but he had lied. Horribly. And now, he could only await Youji's
decision, which he had no doubt would be rejection. He turned away, tears against his
eyes. The weight on his hand did not leave as he heard the voice he hated, loved, feared
all rolled up into one speak, the waves crashing over him, returning him to reality.
"You're awake, aye?", the flippitant tone was fake, as far as Ken could tell. Too
fake. It wasn't real, and even though he didn't want to look at Youji, he did, and his told
the blonde that he wasn't buying it. The smile and tone dropped immediately, and Youji's
eyes took on a desperate look. Ken broke eye contact at this, and stared at the blankets as
if fascinated with the knitting. But he held back the tears, held back the pain that he
knew would come, the pain that was unevietable, unavoidable. And he couldn't hide it either
as tears clouded his sight and one sparkle shimmered before making a pinpoint dark spot in
front of him. He stared at the blanket with renewed fascination, and now he knew Youji had
his answer. He accepted all terms of agreement even before they had been spoken, but he
didn't regret it. It was all for the best, as he had once told himself. And now was the
same.
Youji's voice trembled as he spoke, wavering, so unlike his regularly kept
composture. His voice barely a whisper, coming out in a little half-gasp, half-sob, and
Ken's eyes burned with anticipation at the stinging words that would follow. He knew that
would come, and now it had. He didn't speak, for he could already predict what words would
be said. He didn't need Crawford's oracle skills to know it.
"Why?" came the voice, barely a whisper.
Another tear splashed its way down into the blanket, but no others fell. He daren't
let any more fall. Just stayed there, welled up in his eyes, refusing to fall. Just like
his love. But that had already dropped. He waited for the slap, the denial, anything but
the silence. But what had been his hope had vanished, and he was left with nothing.
He was waiting for the slap that never came. Instead arms circled him, and he
dumbly let himself be hugged, until after a moment, he broke down onto Youji's shoulder.
Grief poured out of him, and he just sobbed, and squeezed countless tears out of his eyes in
his relief, and for a moment, there was only him and Youji there, no bed, no room, no
apartment, no world and no floor and no sky. There was only him and his tears and HIM, the
blonde that had won his heart, despite everything. HE still loved him, after dressing up as
a girl and deceiving him. No, he was a liar, but in a way, it was a good lie. And he
still loved him. That was all that mattered.
Youji laid his head on top of Ken's and kissed the unruly mop of chestnut locks.
And there was nothing to say. Words weren't needed then because they were never needed at
all.
* * *
He watched, from the door, secretly. His heart lightened when he saw Youji lower
his head on the other's head, and then he found he couldn't watch anymore. It had become
painful, now. He leaned on the wall slightly, pushed his red hair out of his strange violet
eyes, and walked down the wall. He left it behind, a slack line, a failed attempt at love.
It was behind him. Broken. Gone. And he would leave it just there, behind. He wouldn't
look back.
Not, he said to himself. You'll never let go of that love.
He walked down the hall.
* * *
He listened as boots tried to be silent in the hall outside. He crossed his hand
over his heart for a brief moment, a homage the love-that-was. I swear, he thought
silently, I'll make it up to you somehow. But for now...thank you is all I can say. I
hope it's enough.
And he turned to his future in the form a sleeping brunette.
/ \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \
Author's note:
Done. Finally. The whole thing...thing is, this isn't the end of the multiseries.
I still have 2 more to go. The original character will just have some mundane name. I
don't care. Anyways, I'll shut up now...as for the people confused with the timing on this,
a year has passed. That's just about it. The timing doesn't really matter, just the "I'm-
in-love" thing counts. The timing doesn't count, so don't dwell on it if you don't
understand it.
Andrea Weiling
For the first time in his life, he woke to blessed silence. Not to the annoying
clash of the alarm clock, not to Omi pounding the door, not to birds chirping outside of the
window, just to wonderful, silent silence, no sound at all, except for his own rhythmic
breathing. He sank back with renewed exhaustion from the last night's mission, closing his
eyes. On impulse, he reached out his right hand to grasp the alarm clock, and found he
couldn't move his hand. He sat up, and realized that something was very, very wrong.
He had been sleeping in Youji's apartment. It had been 2 floors lower than his, but
that wasn't the shock. As his eyes flickered in horror at the softly breathing figure with
his hand on top of his, he balked, and looked down. He gasped in surprise and horror as he
realized he was still clad in his girl clothes, the clothes he had worn to the mission that
night. Since he was in Youji's bed, he could only guess that Aya/Ran had picked him up.
But there was now the larger current problem. There was now no doubt that Youji recognized
him now, without his wig and without makeup. He had gone against his own principles, the
"Liar Rule", as Youji had once called it, a long time ago. He hated liars of any kind,
always tried to be honest, but he had lied. Horribly. And now, he could only await Youji's
decision, which he had no doubt would be rejection. He turned away, tears against his
eyes. The weight on his hand did not leave as he heard the voice he hated, loved, feared
all rolled up into one speak, the waves crashing over him, returning him to reality.
"You're awake, aye?", the flippitant tone was fake, as far as Ken could tell. Too
fake. It wasn't real, and even though he didn't want to look at Youji, he did, and his told
the blonde that he wasn't buying it. The smile and tone dropped immediately, and Youji's
eyes took on a desperate look. Ken broke eye contact at this, and stared at the blankets as
if fascinated with the knitting. But he held back the tears, held back the pain that he
knew would come, the pain that was unevietable, unavoidable. And he couldn't hide it either
as tears clouded his sight and one sparkle shimmered before making a pinpoint dark spot in
front of him. He stared at the blanket with renewed fascination, and now he knew Youji had
his answer. He accepted all terms of agreement even before they had been spoken, but he
didn't regret it. It was all for the best, as he had once told himself. And now was the
same.
Youji's voice trembled as he spoke, wavering, so unlike his regularly kept
composture. His voice barely a whisper, coming out in a little half-gasp, half-sob, and
Ken's eyes burned with anticipation at the stinging words that would follow. He knew that
would come, and now it had. He didn't speak, for he could already predict what words would
be said. He didn't need Crawford's oracle skills to know it.
"Why?" came the voice, barely a whisper.
Another tear splashed its way down into the blanket, but no others fell. He daren't
let any more fall. Just stayed there, welled up in his eyes, refusing to fall. Just like
his love. But that had already dropped. He waited for the slap, the denial, anything but
the silence. But what had been his hope had vanished, and he was left with nothing.
He was waiting for the slap that never came. Instead arms circled him, and he
dumbly let himself be hugged, until after a moment, he broke down onto Youji's shoulder.
Grief poured out of him, and he just sobbed, and squeezed countless tears out of his eyes in
his relief, and for a moment, there was only him and Youji there, no bed, no room, no
apartment, no world and no floor and no sky. There was only him and his tears and HIM, the
blonde that had won his heart, despite everything. HE still loved him, after dressing up as
a girl and deceiving him. No, he was a liar, but in a way, it was a good lie. And he
still loved him. That was all that mattered.
Youji laid his head on top of Ken's and kissed the unruly mop of chestnut locks.
And there was nothing to say. Words weren't needed then because they were never needed at
all.
* * *
He watched, from the door, secretly. His heart lightened when he saw Youji lower
his head on the other's head, and then he found he couldn't watch anymore. It had become
painful, now. He leaned on the wall slightly, pushed his red hair out of his strange violet
eyes, and walked down the wall. He left it behind, a slack line, a failed attempt at love.
It was behind him. Broken. Gone. And he would leave it just there, behind. He wouldn't
look back.
Not, he said to himself. You'll never let go of that love.
He walked down the hall.
* * *
He listened as boots tried to be silent in the hall outside. He crossed his hand
over his heart for a brief moment, a homage the love-that-was. I swear, he thought
silently, I'll make it up to you somehow. But for now...thank you is all I can say. I
hope it's enough.
And he turned to his future in the form a sleeping brunette.
/ \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \
Author's note:
Done. Finally. The whole thing...thing is, this isn't the end of the multiseries.
I still have 2 more to go. The original character will just have some mundane name. I
don't care. Anyways, I'll shut up now...as for the people confused with the timing on this,
a year has passed. That's just about it. The timing doesn't really matter, just the "I'm-
in-love" thing counts. The timing doesn't count, so don't dwell on it if you don't
understand it.
Andrea Weiling