Weiß Schrecken
Disclaimer: Weiß Kreuz and all associated and registered trademarks are copyright Project Weiß and associated firms. In the writing of this fanfiction I am making no claim or stake in the profits of it. In other words, I don't own these sexy bishounen, and I don't intent to. Get it? Got it? Good.

Weiß Schrecken

Chapter Four: Wiedererlangen

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Beep. Beep. Beep.

Steady and monotonous was the sound filling the sparsely decorated, white-washed room. The repeating of one tone again and again, unchanging in decibel or speed. It was enough to drive a person insane, once they'd heard enough of it, and five minutes was more than enough. How Aya had been able to stand it for the years that he had come to visit his sister in the hospital every, single day without going crazy was something Youji couldn't understand. Then again, Aya wasn't exactly your typically 'normal' person. Actually, when one considered his 'shi-ne' mannerisms and obsession with hurting anyone and anything that looked, touched, or existed too closely to his sister, it often became clear that perhaps he was insane in his own way. Of course, no one was ever stupid enough to say that to his face, lest they find a katana lodged in new and painfully interesting places for their troubles.

Slumped in the single chair of the private hospital room, leaning back against the furthest corner from the bed, the playboy looked to the patient laying to deathly still, pale against too-white sheets. Omi looked like an angel, even in his current state, hanging between life and death, with no one knowing which way he would end up going. He was truly a pale, sleeping angel. The dark crimson stains of blood had been washed from his skin, leaving the curves of his body clear again, but he was hardly a figure of bodily perfection. Perhaps before, but not now at all. The time the boy'd spent in the company of Farfarello showed all too clearly on him, lines of slowly healing red marking his skin, mostly covered by bandages to speed up the recovery of his body. And the worst was well hidden by those bandages. When they'd found Omi, his shoulder had been an absolute mess, the bone shattered and blood seeping endlessly from the wound. Not even Ken putting to use his orange jacket so swiftly to try and stop the flow of blood had seemed to help. When they'd gotten him to the Magic Bus Hospital, the word given was that it was a miracle he was alive with the extent of blood loss alone. The boy'd been in intensive surgery for hours, his shoulder requiring such fine care to rebuild and repair. That shoulder laying wrapped up in bandages, a rough cast overlaying the skin to keep the delicately repaired bones from behind displaced.

"Wake up, Omittchi, come on..."

The words from Youji's mouth came slightly slurred, the after effects of drinking too much alcohol affecting his speech. Three days, it had been, and the teen had shown not a single sign of waking up. He'd just lain there, for three days. And each day Youji had come by, asking that same pleading question each time. When no answer came, he'd always gone out to drink himself stupid. Each night. It was becoming a cycle, in which he never became sober. The drinking was to stop the pain of knowing that Omi was laying there, not dead, yet not alive, all because of him. For being late, and for turning back when he'd seen how badly the kid was injured. There was no doubt in his mind that Omi had nearly died at the moment. Ken's calling of the kid's name had drawn Youji back in time to know that he'd stopped breathing. That he'd suddenly just up and given up after having struggled against Schwarz for such a long time. And Youji'd easily figured that it had been his fault.

That reminder brought a stab of pain in his heart, and a scowl to his features. Damnit, he was hurting again, and that meant he was starting to get sober. Stupid alcohol, why couldn't it stay in his system longer? He didn't want to feel anything, damnit. He just wanted to stumble about incoherently and pretend that things were fine when they were not. When they would probably never ever be again.

Dragging himself to his feet, he stumbled across the room to stand beside the bed, a shaking hand reaching out to stroke Omi's cheek softly. "Daijoubu, Omi... It'll be fine," he mumbled out, his features softening into mournful overtones. "And... I'm sorry. Please forgive me."

Silence greeted him, as it had for the last three days. His hand dropped back to his side as he turned away, heading for the door. Time to go kill the pain for another twelve hours, and to hope and pray that Omi would show some sign of improvement by the next time he visited. Supporting himself against the wall as he moved into the hall, the blond didn't notice the ruby-tressed male watching him in silence; all his mind was focused on was how to get to a bar and how to get there damn fast.

Moving his gaze from the drunken figure of Youji, Aya moved into the teen's room, ever quiet, each step an action of grace that none had ever managed to parallel. The playboy was the hardest hit by Omi's condition, going out and getting drunk all the time; the man blamed himself for it all, but whether that was rightful or not Aya made no guesses or allusions to. Yet, the blonde assassin was not the only one affected by the teen's injuries. Ken, in his own fashion, was rather devastated by the youngest's state, withdrawing from the others to play soccer with his shadow, deep in thought on matters none could know. And even Aya had held his own reaction, though his sober features rarely showed it. Only when alone in the boy's hospital room did his guard ever come down, showing the softening of deep violet eyes as he viewed the bruised and broken child laying there.

Moving a chair closer to the bed, Aya sat down on it, watching Omi in silence. So much like his sister the boy now seemed. His chance at life ripped from his grasp, held still by the faintest threads. Like with his sister, the doctor's heavily doubted the genki assassin's survival, the boy sleeping so deep that pulling free of it seemed impossible. Yet, Aya would not give up, as he'd not given up for his sister. There was a chance still, no matter how small, that he would survive, and he had to hold onto that. Weiß was a team, in its own sense, and not even Schuldich could tear them apart, though he had certainly tried.

The soft tones of the male's eyes melded into the dark tones of hate that so many knew him for at the thought of Schwarz's telepathic bastard. So much pain was due to the German for this alone that not even Aya could identify where to begin. He just knew that no one did this to the youngest and even hoped to get away with it. A swift death for the telepath would be a blessing, in his ice-cold eyes...

*

Pain. Still present, starting to be ever present again. Hunched over on his barstool, Youji eyed the shot glass of some sort of alcohol in front of him. He'd stopped caring what exactly it was that he drank, as long as it got him drunk. And fast, and for a long time. That was what mattered; anything to dull the pain or make it go away. It'd be back, but he'd be ready with another shot glass of god-knows-what to make it run. A game of cat-and-mouse, in which he was the mouse, instead of the cat, for once in his life. As long as the painful cat never caught up, he was happy being a Balinese-chu and getting drop-dead drunk just to avoid the hurting.

Yeah, that was right. Cat-and-mouse. Not that he cared, as long as his glass was never empty. Or was rarely empty, because he could forgive a few second lag between shots. After all, he did need to breath air between gulps, right? Right. That worked, he could live with that, in his drunken haze. Anything worked, as long as he didn't sober up, and that was his theory in life. Or at least, since Omi got hurt it was.

Lifting his glass for another shot, the blonde eyed the crystalline cylinder. "Ish empty," he muttered. "Bartender lady, another shot of... this. This stuff. Now." He nodded as he shoved the glass towards the clearly male tender, who gave him an odd look. "Oh... Please and shanks." The afterthought of politeness stumbled out of his slurred speech as he looked with red-rimmed eyes to the man serving drinks. One always had to be polite if one wanted to remain plastered, after all. And he even went as far as fumbling out enough money to pay for his drinking spree so far. Damn, he was on a roll. Now, things might actually look up, if he could just forget the image of Omi laying there, looking like death cooled off. Of course, that thought brought up a dulled strike of hurt. Again. Which he tried to kill by stealing a fellow bar-goers drink for a moment. The other man didn't mind, he was dead drunk. Honest. Not just plastered as Youji was, but absolutely drunk, to the passed out level. Youji envied the lucky bastard. He was no longer able to pass out, with his body adjusting to the alcoholic poison being fed to it. He wanted to, but after downing enough vodka to kill a horse without once falling over, he'd figured his luck was over. Stupid bodily immunity.

Why couldn't he get drunk, damnit? He just wanted for forget and pass out, not be haunted every moment by the memory of the kid nearly dying because of him. Just... forget it. Live his playboy life and pretend he really didn't care. After all, assassins were supposed to die young, Omi was just lucky that he had a chance out of the hellish profession so early. Right? Right. So, if that was right, why did he hurt so much at the thought of losing him? Damnit, there he went again, thinking like he was sober! Drunk, drunk, drunk, damnit! That's what he wanted to be, so he didn't have to think...

"... about Bombay, nein?" Harsh and guttural, there was no mistaking the voice and person that suddenly appeared beside him. One long armed draped itself over Youji's shoulder as the German of Schwarz leaned over the male. The drunk male, who was this man's enemy and had no backup whatsoever if the telepath decided to fight. This could be most problematic...

"Guten Abend, Kätzchen. How are we doing this evening?"



Author's Note:



Took me a while to find the inspiration, but I finally got it and put it down. I hope you enjoyed this chapter in reading as I did in writing.