Author's Notes: I'm so sorry for taking so long to update this. -_-;;;; The other muses have been louder and I've had to answer to them, as well as school work. But here it is! Finally… after nearly two months. _;;
Warnings: Language, shounen-ai. The usual.
Dreamweaver
Chapter Eight
Aya was not one to worry about a given thing for too long and thus turned his gaze away from the other two that watched him; Ken had returned to watching the TV screen as the news woman announced some soccer game results. Omi watched him with those blue-worry filled eyes but did not say a word. Yohji, too, didn't utter a word but the look in those perfect emeralds was almost frightening. It wasn't like the look he gave his targets before strangling them to death; nor was it the playful or flirtatious look Aya was all too used to seeing. There was…something else. Damnit, if he only knew what had happened while he was… out. Right. Out. Trying to pay no more attention to those piercing emeralds, Aya moved past them. He couldn't help but notice how Ken had a leg thrown over the playboy's knee in the most casual (or was it?) of fashions. He felt the sharp fangs of jealousy begin to sink deeply into him once again. You're mine, Fujimiya Ran. Don't you forget that. The words flooded his mind, but he wasn't sure if it had been his own subconscious reminding him of the incident that had happened, or the projected voice of his archenemy recently turned lover.
"Is everything alright?" asked Omi, finally breaking the silence between the four Weiß assassins.
There was the slightest hesitation, probably one that would give him away, but hopefully taken as mere reluctance to respond. "Aa."
"Where have you been?" Asked Ken before Aya was able to escape upstairs.
"Hn."
"That's not a goddamn answer."
Silence. It was Yohji that shook his head, practically telling Ken to shut up before things got out of hand. Again.
"No, I'm not gonna shut up!" Ken intervened as he sat up to look at Aya who stood where he had stopped moments earlier; one foot on the first step, hand on the railing and body half turned to look at the younger, hot headed ex soccer player.
"It's none of your business where I've been," he answered coldly to the surprise of both Omi and Yohji, who turned to look at him. Aya was staring at Ken intently. The younger man refused to back down from the staring contest. The truth was, he could win a fistfight with the redhead but a staring contest? That was a joke. Ken scowled at him. Aya continued, again surprising them all by using more than five words in a sentence. "I don't carry out an interrogation when any of you decide to disappear without warning. I expect the same." And with that, he ascended quietly up the stairs, leaving the other three fourths of the team positively staring after him.
"…he spoke." Commented Ken.
"Ken-kun!" Omi reprimanded.
Aya had heard both of their comments but paid no heed. It was what he did best, simply ignore all else that went on around him. Right now there was just one thing he needed, he realized as he climbed the stairs to the second floor, and that was the bathroom. He suddenly felt sick and nearly made a dash for the door as he reached the top of the stairs. Jean-clad knees hit the floor and the door was slammed shut behind him. He felt very sick.
* * *
Just as he was trying to get rid of the rotating room around him, Aya was disrupted out of the secluding silence by a knock on the door. Dazed violets glanced up, but he had done it too quickly and thus spinning of the room returned full force once again to haunt him. He was sitting against the edge of the tub, one knee pulled up to his chest to serve as support for his gradually imploding head. Before he even had the chance to tell whoever that was to go away ('cause he sure as hell was not going to try and get up just yet), the doorknob was turned and the door pushed open.
"Aya?" came Yohji's half-questioning, half-worried voice as he stepped inside.
The redhead inwardly groaned. If someone had to find him like this, at least it should've been Omi. The genki knew when to question and when to just proceed in silence. But Yohji… why did it have to be him? Doushite?
"K'so!" The older man cursed under his breath upon seeing the extent of his teammate's situation. Yohji himself didn't even look that bad when suffering from a hangover. "Are you alright?" He asked stupidly and moved toward the even paler than usual redhead.
"Hn…" was the mumbled reply. Not that Yohji was expecting much else. By this point Aya was simply wishing for the other man to go away and leave him in his sickening peace. He got no such thing. From beneath wispy red bangs he watched the playboy kneels down in front of him with a look of genuine worry on those beautiful emeralds. As the physical contact of Yohji's fingers upon his arm registered in his brain, Aya stiffened instinctively. It couldn't be helped. He did not appreciate being touched… oh wasn't that just the lie of the year?
"What happened to you?" the voice made him cringe. Too loud, he wanted to say but just didn't find the strength to do so. He didn't even dare to shake his head no in fear that it would really implode in on itself. Violet orbs attempted to focus on the fingers touching his arm but found them blurry and kinda dancing about. It was actually something he would have found amusing under different circumstances.
It wasn't until moments later that he found himself more stable as to respond. However, no one said that it would have to be a pleasant response. "Nothing," was all he said and attempted to push himself up, only to fail miserably and end up back on the floor with Yohji's supporting arms around him. Aya felt himself rise in temperature and hoped that no blush gave him away. He had had enough humiliation for one day. Oh, but warmth brought by those long arms, the feel of the other man's body closely pressed to his own was something hard to resist. Those full lips, so close and inviting, those seductive eyes, which made Aya feel almost like one of those foolish girls at the store that melted beneath that look.
A little closer… those lips now not just a wish but a reality, sweet, soft and now pressing to his own.
That was when something sparked in his mind. Aya never thought he'd be able to do this but he forced himself to break the kiss and untangle himself from the all-too comforting hold.
"No!" he breathed, holding onto his dangerously spinning head.
"Nanda-te?" Asked Yohji, both confused and seemingly hurt by the rejecting. He was met with cold amethyst eyes, the cold gaze they all recognized. Very few times had he seen a more vulnerable look and now that it was there, it was quickly turned to ice once again. "Gomen…" he offered quickly. "If it's about what I said earlier…"
This time the response was a scowl. The last thing Aya needed was to be reminded of that incident – it threw his mind into overdrive as to how it had happened; how it had just been reapplied less than an hour earlier; how fucking mind blowing the process that led to it had been… there he went again. To avoid more incidents, he pushed himself up unsteadily, using the wall for support. He heard the older man scramble up and approach to his aid. An icy cold glare was enough to inform Yohji that he needed no help. How humiliating. "Don't touch me," he said quietly, all the while inwardly hoping for the contrary – oh Gods, please do. Just slam me back against the wall and seduce me like the whore you are. Ravish me until the morning… -- this was, of course, neither spoken nor reflected upon cold masked features.
The footsteps gradually leading one of their teammates up the stairs was what made Aya move; half stumbling out of the bathroom in order to seclude himself within the haven of his room 0 the only place he could really be at ease without being bothered. Kind of. Or at least, he hoped. In order to make sure this was so, he turned the lock on the door.
* * *
Yohji appeared at the doorway to the bathroom just as Ken made it up the stairs. They looked at one another for a moment, but it was Ken who spoke up first.
"Daijoubou, Yohji?"
"'Course." A quick, hasty answer. Never a good sign, it seemed.
The playboy started to walk away, hoping to seclude himself away with his thoughts but he hadn't been as lucky as Aya mere seconds earlier. No, Ken was there and Ken was there to stop him before he reached the door. And even when the younger man was ignored and walked around, Ken still followed him inside the large room uninvited. What was up with him lately? A sigh touched the playboy's lips as he struggled with the damn lighter that just didn't want to come alive and give him the necessary little fire that would feed his fixation. "What do you want?"
"You nearly ran upstairs after him, Yohji."
Silence. The playboy was much to busy puffing on the little cancer stick he had finally managed to light.
"Is it so much of a big deal that I don't want to see you hurt?"
This time Yohji did glance up to look at the younger man that watched him intently with unusual seriousness that rarely did they ever seen plastered on that cheerful face. "Ken…"
"No, don't say a word." There was that façade, that beaming smile, which always reached his eyes. He was almost as good an actor as Aya. "No need to explain yourself, Yohji."
"I wasn---" the older man began but did not even get the chance to finish as Ken merely turned his back, walking toward the door. Just like earlier he was left staring after the young man as he touched the doorknob and without looking back moved outside.
"You've gotten burnt once. Don't do it again." Ken said quietly before escaping out into the hallway. His hushed footsteps were heard as he walked away from the room.
Emerald eyes were lost in confusion, puzzled over both Ken's behavior and words. This wasn't like him… hell, nothing was normal as of lately, starting with Aya. Ah, but Aya was a whole different story, wasn't he? Sighing, he lowered his gaze, taking a long drag from his cigarette. Such wonderful addiction it was. He idly remembered Ken's words earlier on… his behavior down in the mission room… the way they sat all so casually… the more than usual aggression toward Aya… the incident just now.
What was going on?
An ashtray was sought out and he crushed the poor innocent little stick on the glass surface.
There was more going on here than he knew about, on both Ken and Aya's sides. What it was… he wasn't sure he was going to figure out, but the latter seemed more unlikely that he would get an answer for. At least right away but the former… Ken… could he…?
"Nah…" he told himself, not sounding all too confident but it'd have to do for now. For now…
Damnit, it's giving me a headache.
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Please forgive me for the overall suckiness of this chapter as well as the tardiness of it. I think my muse doesn't like me anymore. -_-; I honestly don't know if I want to continue this but I feel bad leaving everyone hanging. I'll have to do some brainstorming and actually map something out. Bear with me, please? o.o; Reviews are much appreciated, especially right now.