A Fine Romance
Chapter One: Broken
"I love you, Ken."
Y. Yohji. what are you doing.?
"I love you."
N- No! NO! Yohji! STOP! NO!
"NO!!" Ken screamed as he jerked up in his bed, panting hard, his heart hammering inside his chest. He jumped when he felt a pair of strong arms wrap around his waist, and had to fight the reflexive urge to beat the person they belonged to.
"Shh. What's wrong, baby.?" Ken breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed as best he could into those arms. It was Nikolai. Not Yohji. Not Yohji. "You're shaking, love. What happened?"
A shudder ran through Ken's body as he suppressed the tears that threatened at the corners of his eyes. He hadn't dreamed about it in so long. He hadn't dreamed about *him* in so long. Why now? He'd been freed from his nightmare eight months ago, when Persia accepted his submission to be transferred. He was now stationed in Okinawa, far away from the city he'd called home for all that time, far away from the ones he'd once called family. He'd left that life behind, and the memories had finally stopped plaguing him months ago. Why were they suddenly back, after all this time, after all he'd gone through to forget them?
Ken was snapped out of his reverie by the feel of those arms tightening gently around him and the soft whisper in his ear.
"Ken.? It was him again, wasn't it?" Ken gave a slow nod after a few moments, not yet trusting his voice for fear he would start crying. He'd spent many restless nights curled in Nikolai's arms, sobbing out his waking nightmare of a life until he was rocked to dreamless sleep. He was grateful for the darkness of sleep, when the dreams didn't come. He was tired of remembering.
"Y. yes. But. why? Why is he still hurting me, Niko? It's been eight months, and he's hundreds of miles away, so why is he still hurting me?"
Nikolai sighed heavily and gently rocked his lover against him. He remembered when Ken first joined him and the others of *whisper* almost a year ago. He had looked thin, too thin for an assassin and soccer player, and was very pallid, save for the dark rings under his eyes. The two of them shared living quarters, and on the very first night, he'd found his way into Ken's room where the poor boy was sobbing violently into his pillow. Since that night, and every night for months after it, he'd spent countless sleepless hours comforting the broken boy until sleep claimed them. He hadn't had to hold Ken this way in close to two months.
"I don't know," Nikolai spoke in a soft whisper. "But I do know that you're safe with me. He won't ever get to you again as long as I can help it. It'll be okay, love." He leaned down and planted a tender kiss on the skin beneath his lover's jaw line, tightening his grip in a hug, both possessive and protective. The Russian only relented a bit when he finally felt Ken relax against him.
"Nikolai.?" Ken turned his head slightly to look up at his boyfriend. A few strands of his normally spiky ice-blue-dyed hair hung over his face, contrasting with his vibrant, green eyes. Eyes that were staring down into his own chocolate orbs with a look of worry, contemplation, and care.
"Yes?" There was a pause as Ken released a shaky breath. The images of his nightmare-memory were fading, thankfully so.
"Hold me until I fall asleep.?" Nikolai smiled. He had such a beautiful smile. It was sweet, gentle, and boyish, with none of the arrogance and carnal lust that Yohji's often had. Ken slapped the thought away. He would NOT think of Yohji. Not now, not ever.
"Always," came the tender reply, Nikolai's voice deep and sweet as honey. "As long as you want me, Ken, I'm yours. Don't forget that." There was no reply as Ken began dozing off in the arms of his lover. Nikolai never needed one.
"Yooooooohjiiiiii!" Aya screamed up the stairs. The clock had just turned to 1:00 pm, and the tall, lanky man was still nowhere to be seen, which meant he was yet asleep. The blue-haired girl huffed and stomped up the stairs, rapping loudly at Yohji's door. "Yohji, wake uuuuup! It's your shift, and I'm not taking it for you today!" There was no answer. Aya raised her hand to hit the door again, when finally, a sign of life emitted from the room.
*Crash* "Ow! Fuck!" There were some shuffling footsteps, and the door swung open. Yohji stood in the doorway, looking disoriented, exhausted, and irritated. Aya looked past him at the lamp that lay now smashed on his floor. At the sound of a loud and meaningful "a-HEM," Aya snapped up and looked at him again. "What the hell do you want? It's too early for Uncle Yohji to be up."
"Well, it just so happens, 'Uncle Yohji'-" she rolled her eyes as she said this- "that it is ten minutes until your shift starts. And don't bother asking, 'cause none of us are going to pull a double for you." Yohji heaved a sigh and ran his hand through honey locks. He grumbled something at the girl and turned away, padding back into his room.
"I'll be down in five," he called. Aya smiled and started to walk away, when she heard the familiar plop of a body hitting the mattress. She dashed back to the room, and confirmed her suspicions.
"YOHJI!!!"
"Alright! I'm going!" Yohji groused and muttered under his breath as he pulled on his usual attire of just slightly slutty clothing. Hey, it helped business, his and the shop's. Walking into the bathroom, he splashed some cold water on his face. He'd been interrupted when he least wanted to be. He'd been dreaming about Ken. It was a beautiful dream, about back when they were still happy. Back when everything in life was going right. Before he'd destroyed it all; ripped the happy ending that almost was to shreds and pissed on the remains. Back before.
Even now, it was hard to think about what he'd done. Kudou Yohji would never have done anything like what happened. It wasn't for days he realized just what had transpired that night. God, that night.
The blonde assassin slapped himself hard across the face, pushing out unwanted images and memories. He didn't want to think about it. He never did. But he couldn't stop. He relived that night over and over again in his head, until he wanted to die, only to fall asleep and be tortured by dreams of past happiness, just to live through it again the next day. It was his punishment. It was the only way he could convince himself that he was paying for what he'd done.
Enough of that, though. Time to put on a happy face. Gotta keep the customers happy, even if it means killing myself from the inside out for it. Small price to pay, Kudou, small price to pay for your crimes. It could be worse.
How? How the fuck could it be worse than this? I'm in Hell. I'm living in a nightmare. HOW CAN IT GET WORSE?!
Trust me. No matter how bad, it can always be worse.
Yohji sighed. He was losing an argument to himself. That was bad. He picked up his sunglasses, sliding them into his hair, and made his reluctant way downstairs.
"It lives!" Omi called out, humor lacing his voice. "I was surprised to see Aya-chan come back from having to get you up unscathed. You're getting better, Yohji." The older man frowned playfully at his comrade.
"You're mean, kiddo. You'll learn someday that real men don't get up until dusk." Omi rolled his eyes and wiped his soil-covered hands on his apron.
"Yeah right, Yohji. You're just lazy. Go get me the peat moss and help me with this pepperonia, will you?" With a great, over-exaggerated sigh, the labeled playboy complied. He had to admit somewhere in his mind that being around these guys helped him. Omi was the only other person, besides Ken and himself, that knew what had happened to drive Ken into another team. He'd expected the kid to hate him, to call him horrible names and get him thrown out of Weiß, but it turned out quite the opposite. Omi had been nothing but supportive and as helpful as he could be. The only reason Yohji hadn't left or even killed himself was because of Omi. After things calmed down, the two had grown together beyond description. They were as close as brothers. Almost as close as he and Ken had been.
After all, it had been Omi who broke into Yohji's room and wrestled the knife out of Yohji's hand. It had been Omi who stayed by his side and forced him to explain why he was trying to commit suicide, and who talked him into calmness after he'd realized that he had honest-to-God raped Ken. He owed the young assassin his life.
"Yohji! You in there?" He blinked and turned, looking at his addresser. Wide blue orbs stared expectantly up at him, then down at their project, which was overflowing with the soil. Yohji jerked the bag up, bits of moss flying behind him, littering the floor.
"Shit." Yohji set the bag down and went about trying to clean up the mess. Omi immediately squatted down on the floor by his side.
"Spill it. Something's on your mind." There was a moment of silence.
"It's nothing." Omi reached out and grabbed his friend's hand tightly. The kid was getting a pretty good grip.
"Bull. Don't lie to me. If now's not a good time, then I'll wait for you, but you are going to talk to me, Yohji. Nothing has changed. Remember that." The young assassin rose to his feet and was about to walk away for the broom, when Yohji's voice stopped him.
"I had a dream about Ken." Omi turned. Yohji was still on the floor, his head bowed in a defeated manner, something he usually saved for when he was alone, but never when a customer could see him. Luckily, the shop was devoid of people, save for the two of them. "It was our three month anniversary. He was smiling. He- he looked so happy, Omi. He used to be, before I." Thin, wiry arms slid around Yohji's shoulders, and Omi hugged him tightly.
"I'm so sorry, Yohji." He pulled back almost reluctantly. He constantly worried about Yohji, and for months would sneak into his room to check in on the older man on a nightly basis. He'd tried to be there ever since the whole thing went down, and offered whatever he could to keep his friend from a mental breakdown. It wasn't easy, especially since Yohji was still plagued by dreams of Asuka occasionally, and then he had this to deal with as well. "I'm sorry."
After a long minute or two, Yohji sniffed and drew a deep breath, pulling himself upright. The usual cocky grin was plastered mechanically onto his face, but his eyes showed through to the feelings burrowing inside him.
"Let's get this mess cleaned up, okay, Omi?" Yohji turned and disappeared into the back storage area, Omi staring after him.
"Anything you say. Yohji."
Author's note: Blah. Okay, that sucked. My creativity is at an all-time low, so I really just needed to pump something out to get the juices flowing. I'm planning on continuing this, or course, and I will regardless of anything. I need it. However, posting the rest of it will depend on how many people tell me how crappy it was or not. Um. yeah. Can you tell I'm feeling dejected? YAY! Leave a comment, even if it's just to tell me to go to hell or something. I'm such a feedback whore. ^^()
Kourui Kurenai.
PS. ff.net is being bitchy and keeps formatting my story this way. Sorry for the confusion I'm sure you encountered while trying to read this. Once I figure out how to bitch-slap the network into submission or whatever, life will be much easier.
Chapter One: Broken
"I love you, Ken."
Y. Yohji. what are you doing.?
"I love you."
N- No! NO! Yohji! STOP! NO!
"NO!!" Ken screamed as he jerked up in his bed, panting hard, his heart hammering inside his chest. He jumped when he felt a pair of strong arms wrap around his waist, and had to fight the reflexive urge to beat the person they belonged to.
"Shh. What's wrong, baby.?" Ken breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed as best he could into those arms. It was Nikolai. Not Yohji. Not Yohji. "You're shaking, love. What happened?"
A shudder ran through Ken's body as he suppressed the tears that threatened at the corners of his eyes. He hadn't dreamed about it in so long. He hadn't dreamed about *him* in so long. Why now? He'd been freed from his nightmare eight months ago, when Persia accepted his submission to be transferred. He was now stationed in Okinawa, far away from the city he'd called home for all that time, far away from the ones he'd once called family. He'd left that life behind, and the memories had finally stopped plaguing him months ago. Why were they suddenly back, after all this time, after all he'd gone through to forget them?
Ken was snapped out of his reverie by the feel of those arms tightening gently around him and the soft whisper in his ear.
"Ken.? It was him again, wasn't it?" Ken gave a slow nod after a few moments, not yet trusting his voice for fear he would start crying. He'd spent many restless nights curled in Nikolai's arms, sobbing out his waking nightmare of a life until he was rocked to dreamless sleep. He was grateful for the darkness of sleep, when the dreams didn't come. He was tired of remembering.
"Y. yes. But. why? Why is he still hurting me, Niko? It's been eight months, and he's hundreds of miles away, so why is he still hurting me?"
Nikolai sighed heavily and gently rocked his lover against him. He remembered when Ken first joined him and the others of *whisper* almost a year ago. He had looked thin, too thin for an assassin and soccer player, and was very pallid, save for the dark rings under his eyes. The two of them shared living quarters, and on the very first night, he'd found his way into Ken's room where the poor boy was sobbing violently into his pillow. Since that night, and every night for months after it, he'd spent countless sleepless hours comforting the broken boy until sleep claimed them. He hadn't had to hold Ken this way in close to two months.
"I don't know," Nikolai spoke in a soft whisper. "But I do know that you're safe with me. He won't ever get to you again as long as I can help it. It'll be okay, love." He leaned down and planted a tender kiss on the skin beneath his lover's jaw line, tightening his grip in a hug, both possessive and protective. The Russian only relented a bit when he finally felt Ken relax against him.
"Nikolai.?" Ken turned his head slightly to look up at his boyfriend. A few strands of his normally spiky ice-blue-dyed hair hung over his face, contrasting with his vibrant, green eyes. Eyes that were staring down into his own chocolate orbs with a look of worry, contemplation, and care.
"Yes?" There was a pause as Ken released a shaky breath. The images of his nightmare-memory were fading, thankfully so.
"Hold me until I fall asleep.?" Nikolai smiled. He had such a beautiful smile. It was sweet, gentle, and boyish, with none of the arrogance and carnal lust that Yohji's often had. Ken slapped the thought away. He would NOT think of Yohji. Not now, not ever.
"Always," came the tender reply, Nikolai's voice deep and sweet as honey. "As long as you want me, Ken, I'm yours. Don't forget that." There was no reply as Ken began dozing off in the arms of his lover. Nikolai never needed one.
"Yooooooohjiiiiii!" Aya screamed up the stairs. The clock had just turned to 1:00 pm, and the tall, lanky man was still nowhere to be seen, which meant he was yet asleep. The blue-haired girl huffed and stomped up the stairs, rapping loudly at Yohji's door. "Yohji, wake uuuuup! It's your shift, and I'm not taking it for you today!" There was no answer. Aya raised her hand to hit the door again, when finally, a sign of life emitted from the room.
*Crash* "Ow! Fuck!" There were some shuffling footsteps, and the door swung open. Yohji stood in the doorway, looking disoriented, exhausted, and irritated. Aya looked past him at the lamp that lay now smashed on his floor. At the sound of a loud and meaningful "a-HEM," Aya snapped up and looked at him again. "What the hell do you want? It's too early for Uncle Yohji to be up."
"Well, it just so happens, 'Uncle Yohji'-" she rolled her eyes as she said this- "that it is ten minutes until your shift starts. And don't bother asking, 'cause none of us are going to pull a double for you." Yohji heaved a sigh and ran his hand through honey locks. He grumbled something at the girl and turned away, padding back into his room.
"I'll be down in five," he called. Aya smiled and started to walk away, when she heard the familiar plop of a body hitting the mattress. She dashed back to the room, and confirmed her suspicions.
"YOHJI!!!"
"Alright! I'm going!" Yohji groused and muttered under his breath as he pulled on his usual attire of just slightly slutty clothing. Hey, it helped business, his and the shop's. Walking into the bathroom, he splashed some cold water on his face. He'd been interrupted when he least wanted to be. He'd been dreaming about Ken. It was a beautiful dream, about back when they were still happy. Back when everything in life was going right. Before he'd destroyed it all; ripped the happy ending that almost was to shreds and pissed on the remains. Back before.
Even now, it was hard to think about what he'd done. Kudou Yohji would never have done anything like what happened. It wasn't for days he realized just what had transpired that night. God, that night.
The blonde assassin slapped himself hard across the face, pushing out unwanted images and memories. He didn't want to think about it. He never did. But he couldn't stop. He relived that night over and over again in his head, until he wanted to die, only to fall asleep and be tortured by dreams of past happiness, just to live through it again the next day. It was his punishment. It was the only way he could convince himself that he was paying for what he'd done.
Enough of that, though. Time to put on a happy face. Gotta keep the customers happy, even if it means killing myself from the inside out for it. Small price to pay, Kudou, small price to pay for your crimes. It could be worse.
How? How the fuck could it be worse than this? I'm in Hell. I'm living in a nightmare. HOW CAN IT GET WORSE?!
Trust me. No matter how bad, it can always be worse.
Yohji sighed. He was losing an argument to himself. That was bad. He picked up his sunglasses, sliding them into his hair, and made his reluctant way downstairs.
"It lives!" Omi called out, humor lacing his voice. "I was surprised to see Aya-chan come back from having to get you up unscathed. You're getting better, Yohji." The older man frowned playfully at his comrade.
"You're mean, kiddo. You'll learn someday that real men don't get up until dusk." Omi rolled his eyes and wiped his soil-covered hands on his apron.
"Yeah right, Yohji. You're just lazy. Go get me the peat moss and help me with this pepperonia, will you?" With a great, over-exaggerated sigh, the labeled playboy complied. He had to admit somewhere in his mind that being around these guys helped him. Omi was the only other person, besides Ken and himself, that knew what had happened to drive Ken into another team. He'd expected the kid to hate him, to call him horrible names and get him thrown out of Weiß, but it turned out quite the opposite. Omi had been nothing but supportive and as helpful as he could be. The only reason Yohji hadn't left or even killed himself was because of Omi. After things calmed down, the two had grown together beyond description. They were as close as brothers. Almost as close as he and Ken had been.
After all, it had been Omi who broke into Yohji's room and wrestled the knife out of Yohji's hand. It had been Omi who stayed by his side and forced him to explain why he was trying to commit suicide, and who talked him into calmness after he'd realized that he had honest-to-God raped Ken. He owed the young assassin his life.
"Yohji! You in there?" He blinked and turned, looking at his addresser. Wide blue orbs stared expectantly up at him, then down at their project, which was overflowing with the soil. Yohji jerked the bag up, bits of moss flying behind him, littering the floor.
"Shit." Yohji set the bag down and went about trying to clean up the mess. Omi immediately squatted down on the floor by his side.
"Spill it. Something's on your mind." There was a moment of silence.
"It's nothing." Omi reached out and grabbed his friend's hand tightly. The kid was getting a pretty good grip.
"Bull. Don't lie to me. If now's not a good time, then I'll wait for you, but you are going to talk to me, Yohji. Nothing has changed. Remember that." The young assassin rose to his feet and was about to walk away for the broom, when Yohji's voice stopped him.
"I had a dream about Ken." Omi turned. Yohji was still on the floor, his head bowed in a defeated manner, something he usually saved for when he was alone, but never when a customer could see him. Luckily, the shop was devoid of people, save for the two of them. "It was our three month anniversary. He was smiling. He- he looked so happy, Omi. He used to be, before I." Thin, wiry arms slid around Yohji's shoulders, and Omi hugged him tightly.
"I'm so sorry, Yohji." He pulled back almost reluctantly. He constantly worried about Yohji, and for months would sneak into his room to check in on the older man on a nightly basis. He'd tried to be there ever since the whole thing went down, and offered whatever he could to keep his friend from a mental breakdown. It wasn't easy, especially since Yohji was still plagued by dreams of Asuka occasionally, and then he had this to deal with as well. "I'm sorry."
After a long minute or two, Yohji sniffed and drew a deep breath, pulling himself upright. The usual cocky grin was plastered mechanically onto his face, but his eyes showed through to the feelings burrowing inside him.
"Let's get this mess cleaned up, okay, Omi?" Yohji turned and disappeared into the back storage area, Omi staring after him.
"Anything you say. Yohji."
Author's note: Blah. Okay, that sucked. My creativity is at an all-time low, so I really just needed to pump something out to get the juices flowing. I'm planning on continuing this, or course, and I will regardless of anything. I need it. However, posting the rest of it will depend on how many people tell me how crappy it was or not. Um. yeah. Can you tell I'm feeling dejected? YAY! Leave a comment, even if it's just to tell me to go to hell or something. I'm such a feedback whore. ^^()
Kourui Kurenai.
PS. ff.net is being bitchy and keeps formatting my story this way. Sorry for the confusion I'm sure you encountered while trying to read this. Once I figure out how to bitch-slap the network into submission or whatever, life will be much easier.