An attack of insomnia, Roxette, and those yummy little Werther's candies, and I feel like some Yohji angst. What does that say about me as a person, I wonder? >_

This fic's almost finished, just another part or two...depends on how agreeable the muses feel, and how much Ken yells at Yohji, I guess. ^_^

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Weiß Kreuz or the song 'Perfect Day' by Roxette - I'm just borrowing them for a while.

Feedback, onegai! ^_^

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Author: silvershadeus
Email: silvershadeus@yahoo.com
Title: Perfect Day
Type: Series [3/?]
Teaser: Yohji's drunk, and Omi finds him...
Rating: PG...mild language
Spoilers: none...
Warning: Possible shounen ai later on
Keywords: Drunken Yohji, Omi, Ken...

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Perfect Day - Part 3

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I say a prayer now
Our love's departed
That you'll come back to stay
And bring the perfect day.
Blinded by a crazy light
I fell into the darkest night.
Those magic ties, the two of us,
I couldn't see it turn to dust.

~Perfect Day~ Roxette

Feeling very much as though Schuldig had just played merry hell with the contents of his head, Yohji reluctantly opened his eyes. He was expecting to be blinded by sunlight coming through his bedroom window. Surprised when he was met with the gloomy darkness of an unlit room, it took a moment for recognition to sink in.

Omi's room. He was in Omi's room.

Since it hurt far too much to think at the moment, he settled back against he headboard, drawing his knees up as he did so. Almost as an afterthought, he pulled the blanket up higher around himself. Omi's room was always cooler than any of the others, something having to do with the poor heating in the building and the fact that his room never got direct sunlight.

Grimacing, Yohji tried to remember exactly what he'd been doing last night to deserve the foul taste in his mouth and raging headache. Glancing down at himself, he smiled wryly. He was wearing a dark blue button oxford shirt, and black jeans. Not his usual clubbing attire, so it meant he'd probably gone out last night in order to get himself suitably drunk. He'd had to explain it to Aya once, when the redhead had unbent enough to ask why Yohji hadn't spent hours primping in front of the bathroom mirror one night.

Kudou Yohji had two sets of clothing in the back of his closet that were solely for his personal night adventuring. One was full of simple button down shirts, faded jeans and the occasional sweater. Cottons and natural fibers, for the most part. These were his 'single guy going out to drown his misery in alcohol' clothes. The other set was composed of butter soft leather, gleaming vinyl, and synthetic fabrics. All designed to reveal as much flesh as possible while still being considered barely legal. Those were his 'I know I'm sexy, what's your name?' clothes.

The fact that he wore the former more often than not lately should have set off some kind of warning bell in the back of his mind. For some reason, he found that he didn't particularly care. It was all the same in the end, anyway. Go to a bar, get drunk. Go to a club, pick up a woman, get drunk. He always woke up flat broke, hung over, and feeling like shit.

He was lucky if he even made it home sometimes.

Yohji's eyes widened slightly as he ran that little thought back through his mind. When had he started thinking of his apartment above the flower shop as home? He certainly hadn't a few months ago, so what had happened to change that? The fact that it was the place he usually tried to aim for after a night of drunken debauchery didn't make it home. Carrier pigeons flew to places they knew by heart, but it didn't make it home. Just a place they knew to go.

Strays would keep coming back if you fed them or showed them a little kindness, and in a way, so did he. So was he just some kind of mangy stray that didn't know any better? Did he just come back time after time for scraps of warmth and glimpses of what might have been? He knew he wasn't mistaking the genuine affection between Omi and Ken. Those two acted like they were long lost brothers sometimes. And then there was Aya.

He was like the cool older brother...the one you kind of looked up to, but prayed to God he didn't notice you looking. The kind of person you secretly admired, but would die of embarrassment if they knew you did. The three of them had formed a neat little family unit. Even if Aya was a bit prickly sometimes.

So where did he fit in? Sometimes he didn't think he did. But if that were true, then why did he keep coming back? He should know better by now, shouldn't he? If he were welcome or not. He should know that much, shouldn't he?

Groaning, Yohji wrapped his arms around his drawn up legs, resting his chin on his knees. His headache was only getting worse, but he couldn't seem to stop. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe he should have known...only he didn't. He didn't understand how he was supposed to fit in wither the others. He didn't know who he was supposed to be around them. Acting like a playboy only seemed to annoy the others, but he didn't know what else to do. What else he should do.

It just seemed the way to be. Act like you were God's gift to women, and people would like you for it. They'd take one look at your face and never want to see what was behind it. People wouldn't care, as long as you looked good. People looked at you as something more than a scruffy little kid trying to act like a grownup. People paid attention to you. People noticed you.

Not always the right people, but it was something. Better than being a nameless face in the crowd. Better than being forgotten.

Sighing, Yohji buried his face in his knees, just wanting to block everything out, if only for a little bit. The drinking helped, but he knew it wasn't going to work forever. He'd had to switch from wine to something harder a while ago. It was only a matter of time before nothing else worked. Maybe his liver would go first though. That was always a possibility. Then at least he wouldn't have to worry about where he fit in anymore.

Laughing bitterly, he didn't hear the soft knock on the door. Wiping his eyes on the blanket covering his knees, he didn't see the door open.

"Yohji?"

Looking up in surprise, Yohji hissed between clenched teeth as colored whorls sprang up in his field of vision, his head feeling like it was going to explode. Squeezing his eyes shut, Yohji hugged his knees, rocking back and forth a little as he waited for the pain to subside. He could hear Ken calling his name in a worried tone of voice, but it sounded distant and far away.

Eventually, the pain faded and cautiously cracked first one, then the other eye open to see Ken watching him with a worried look o his face. Loosening his hold on his legs, Yohji leaned back against headboard, forcing his muscles to relax, one by one. He could still feel the dull ache behind his eyes, but it seemed to be under control at the moment.

"Yohji? Are you all right? You don't look too good...I got you some asprin, if that will help any."

Gratefully accepting the proffered medicine, Yohji regarded Ken through narrowed eyes. He was being unusually nice to him at the moment. Normally, Ken didn't have any patience for 'thickheaded idiots who tried to drink their body weight in alcohol.' Either he wanted something from Yohji, or the asprin was really poison. Or maybe both. Ken could be surprisingly sneaky he wanted to be, and he held grudges like no one else. Even Aya.

"Why are you being so nice to me, Ken?"

Wincing as Yohji's voice came out as a dry croak, Ken smiled. It wasn't a pleasant kind of smile.

"I just want to make sure you're not going to die on me while I have a little talk with you."

Deciding that he didn't like the nasty little smile playing about on Ken's lips or his tone of voice, Yohji swallowed the asprin.

"Should I be hoping that was poison?"

Ken's smile widened.

"Probably."


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TBC...

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