A gentle fall breeze drifted through the quiet streets carrying with it any stray leaves that once laid upon the ground. Though the wind was calm and seemed quite serene from within the house it held a bitter chill. It aimlessly visited dark corners and sunlit benches alike. The soft golden rays dulled the wind's chilly edge so that, when it caressed the surface of warm skin, it gave someone a dull ache. An ache that was constantly there - for the wind never let up - and an ache that was much worse when it visited the shadows of the city life.
Aya understood the wind.
The rustle of leaves lulled him into a deep trance. He meandered the city on foot with his eyes fixed on no certain point before him. There's was no destination, but where ever it was he was going it wasn't any place beneath the sun. He wasn't going to go before its warm, comforting rays. The wind was just fine. In fact, Aya had a certain admiration for the wind. It flowed as it wished and let nothing disturb it from its goal.
He walked slowly down the sidewalk. Despite the wind's bitter nip he had his sleek black jacket wide open. His red hair was wildly alive as the wind played games within it. He wore no gloves and the scarf around his neck hung loosely on his chest. It swung gently from side to side as he wandered the streets. The wind didn't bother him at all and he began to wonder why he had even bothered to grab his jacket and scarf on his out of the house. He had discarded his white apron on the chair beside the door and quickly grabbed his things from the coat hanger. It was just like Aya to conceitedly assume that Omi would pick up his apron for him.
The tall man stopped dead on the sidewalk, his eyes staring coldly before him. A cold gust of wind blew past his face and blew hard and long. It got so cold that a small tear drop cascaded from the corner of his eye to the cement below. He remembered, then, exactly why he was out here . . . exactly what he was avoiding.
"She's going to be all right. We'll save her . . ."
"You're lying. What's wrong? Let us help you . . ."
"A-yan, don't leave . . ."
Aya lowered his head. It was true that they sincerely wanted to help him, but he couldn't let them. It was weak. He would be weak to allow such a thing to happen. Indeed, he had a sudden meeting with weakness earlier but he was sure that it was a fluke. It had never happened before to him . . . even if it had he would never let on to such a development. However, he knew he had done wrong by Omi. He would hurt Ken or Youji - if the need to do so ever arose - but he could never hurt Omi. Yet, he had just hurt him. Perhaps he hadn't meant to hurt him, but that was just an easy excuse.
His eyes looked up and he gazed over his right shoulder as a small girl walked past him. She stopped briefly before him and smiled.
"Ohayo, Aya-kun! How are the flowers today?"
He quickly bowed his head at the girl. She blushed a little beneath her fluffy purple scarf that she wore around the mouth.
"Is Omi working today?"
"Hai."
The little girl's eyes began to sparkle as she nodded.
"Arigato, Aya-kun!"
His eyes followed her as she walked, hurriedly, away from him. Slowly he wrapped the scarf around his neck and partially zipped and buttoned his jacket. He turned completely around and headed back toward the flower shop.
*******
Gentle sobs echoed throughout the Weiá house. They vibrated down the halls and bounced softly off of the walls. Each sob was muffled and different from the last sob. Youji's voice mingled serenely into the playful echoes. His low and confident voice coaxing the sobs away into whimpers. The sound of the heater adding a silent roar to the cacophony of voices now engulfing the entire house.
"I can't take it anymore, Youji-kun," Omi said, his words getting muffled as he talked into his beadspread, "I can't let his coldness roll off my back anymore."
Youji watched Omi's back heave as he held back the remaining cries. Cries that he wanted to scream out. But the screams earlier had thrown him into a crying rage that he could barely control. Youji had to restrain him with a tight hug to keep him from hurting himself. Now, the tall blonde softly caressed Omi's back. Smoothing out the jagged anger that he held inside.
"He's going through a lot right now," Youji stated gently, "I'm not making excuses for him, but everyone has problems and he doesn't deal with pain very well." He continued to slowly massage the muscles in Omi's back which were growing tight once again. "We have to help him through this rough time. As much of a damn pain he can be he still needs us."
Omi inhaled a deep breath and held it. His small hands clutched the bedspread into his fists. Youji looked at the boy before him.
"He really needs you right now, Omi-kun."
Youji watched as a deep sigh escaped from Omi's mouth and his hands relaxed.
"I'll help him get through this. I'll do anything to help him."
The boy looked up at Youji - his eyes pleading for comfort - as curled up into a ball. He lay there on his side and slowly placed his head in Youji's lap. The well-dressed man wiped away the tears from Omi's face and smiled.
"It may not seem like it sometimes, but you are pretty damn strong, Omi-kun. You amaze me."
***********
"You stupid piece of scum!! Who the hell do you think you are just barging out of here as if we weren't there talking to you? Well?! You had damn well better start talking to me!"
Ken glared at the red-haired man. His cheeks had grown to be redder than Aya's hair during his search for the man. His own black hair was wind blown, but Ken didn't take note of it at all. Instead his eyes were glowing red hot as he stared at Aya's emotionless face. His entire chest was heaving as he waited for the man to speak, but not even that mattered to him.
"Well?! Aren't you going to say anything at all?"
"Iie."
Ken ran into Aya full force - catching him off guard - and threw him as hard as he could into the side of the house. He could hear the air being knocked out of the tall man's lungs as he did so. Aya was surprised, albeit that quickly passed, and his eyes grew angry at the man who had stolen his breath. The man who held him against the house tightly in his grip. The man who didn't know what fires he had started within him.
"Shine!"
Aya understood the wind.
The rustle of leaves lulled him into a deep trance. He meandered the city on foot with his eyes fixed on no certain point before him. There's was no destination, but where ever it was he was going it wasn't any place beneath the sun. He wasn't going to go before its warm, comforting rays. The wind was just fine. In fact, Aya had a certain admiration for the wind. It flowed as it wished and let nothing disturb it from its goal.
He walked slowly down the sidewalk. Despite the wind's bitter nip he had his sleek black jacket wide open. His red hair was wildly alive as the wind played games within it. He wore no gloves and the scarf around his neck hung loosely on his chest. It swung gently from side to side as he wandered the streets. The wind didn't bother him at all and he began to wonder why he had even bothered to grab his jacket and scarf on his out of the house. He had discarded his white apron on the chair beside the door and quickly grabbed his things from the coat hanger. It was just like Aya to conceitedly assume that Omi would pick up his apron for him.
The tall man stopped dead on the sidewalk, his eyes staring coldly before him. A cold gust of wind blew past his face and blew hard and long. It got so cold that a small tear drop cascaded from the corner of his eye to the cement below. He remembered, then, exactly why he was out here . . . exactly what he was avoiding.
"She's going to be all right. We'll save her . . ."
"You're lying. What's wrong? Let us help you . . ."
"A-yan, don't leave . . ."
Aya lowered his head. It was true that they sincerely wanted to help him, but he couldn't let them. It was weak. He would be weak to allow such a thing to happen. Indeed, he had a sudden meeting with weakness earlier but he was sure that it was a fluke. It had never happened before to him . . . even if it had he would never let on to such a development. However, he knew he had done wrong by Omi. He would hurt Ken or Youji - if the need to do so ever arose - but he could never hurt Omi. Yet, he had just hurt him. Perhaps he hadn't meant to hurt him, but that was just an easy excuse.
His eyes looked up and he gazed over his right shoulder as a small girl walked past him. She stopped briefly before him and smiled.
"Ohayo, Aya-kun! How are the flowers today?"
He quickly bowed his head at the girl. She blushed a little beneath her fluffy purple scarf that she wore around the mouth.
"Is Omi working today?"
"Hai."
The little girl's eyes began to sparkle as she nodded.
"Arigato, Aya-kun!"
His eyes followed her as she walked, hurriedly, away from him. Slowly he wrapped the scarf around his neck and partially zipped and buttoned his jacket. He turned completely around and headed back toward the flower shop.
*******
Gentle sobs echoed throughout the Weiá house. They vibrated down the halls and bounced softly off of the walls. Each sob was muffled and different from the last sob. Youji's voice mingled serenely into the playful echoes. His low and confident voice coaxing the sobs away into whimpers. The sound of the heater adding a silent roar to the cacophony of voices now engulfing the entire house.
"I can't take it anymore, Youji-kun," Omi said, his words getting muffled as he talked into his beadspread, "I can't let his coldness roll off my back anymore."
Youji watched Omi's back heave as he held back the remaining cries. Cries that he wanted to scream out. But the screams earlier had thrown him into a crying rage that he could barely control. Youji had to restrain him with a tight hug to keep him from hurting himself. Now, the tall blonde softly caressed Omi's back. Smoothing out the jagged anger that he held inside.
"He's going through a lot right now," Youji stated gently, "I'm not making excuses for him, but everyone has problems and he doesn't deal with pain very well." He continued to slowly massage the muscles in Omi's back which were growing tight once again. "We have to help him through this rough time. As much of a damn pain he can be he still needs us."
Omi inhaled a deep breath and held it. His small hands clutched the bedspread into his fists. Youji looked at the boy before him.
"He really needs you right now, Omi-kun."
Youji watched as a deep sigh escaped from Omi's mouth and his hands relaxed.
"I'll help him get through this. I'll do anything to help him."
The boy looked up at Youji - his eyes pleading for comfort - as curled up into a ball. He lay there on his side and slowly placed his head in Youji's lap. The well-dressed man wiped away the tears from Omi's face and smiled.
"It may not seem like it sometimes, but you are pretty damn strong, Omi-kun. You amaze me."
***********
"You stupid piece of scum!! Who the hell do you think you are just barging out of here as if we weren't there talking to you? Well?! You had damn well better start talking to me!"
Ken glared at the red-haired man. His cheeks had grown to be redder than Aya's hair during his search for the man. His own black hair was wind blown, but Ken didn't take note of it at all. Instead his eyes were glowing red hot as he stared at Aya's emotionless face. His entire chest was heaving as he waited for the man to speak, but not even that mattered to him.
"Well?! Aren't you going to say anything at all?"
"Iie."
Ken ran into Aya full force - catching him off guard - and threw him as hard as he could into the side of the house. He could hear the air being knocked out of the tall man's lungs as he did so. Aya was surprised, albeit that quickly passed, and his eyes grew angry at the man who had stolen his breath. The man who held him against the house tightly in his grip. The man who didn't know what fires he had started within him.
"Shine!"
