Author's notes:
Long a/n. Please read tho. Okay. I know there are some of you out there who are so pissed off with me right now for updating this so late. So I'm gonna stand here for five minutes and let you throw all the rotten eggs and tomatoes that you want. It's been nearly a month. I'm really sorry. I was going thru a rather bad patch. Clashing with my boss at work, getting sick and not having time to rest. Maybe 'cos of the depression, I couldn't write. It's a vicious cycle, 'cos not being able to write got me even more depressed.
Bleh. You probably aren't interested to know that. I'll shuddup now. Gomen na.
Anyways, as much as this chap is meant for all you readers, I wanna specially dedicate this to Marty and Keeshe. Marty 'cos she just celebrated her birthday on Friday, and Kee 'cos her birthday's coming up on Sunday. Wai!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY GUYS!! This isn't much of a present I know, and it's not sappy and fluffy. But still I hope it accounts for something. Ehehe. Thanks for being such great friends. *hugs* And Kee, thanks for Darlin'!! He's really making Kenken work up a sweat. From running, my dear, running! ^^;;
Of course, I havta glomp my lovely reviewers too. Wouldn't know what to do without you guys:
Jin (thanks for everything *hugs*), Marty, Keekee, lorien-chan, lola-chan, Rika-neechan (I hate my acct!), Sardius, Ku-chan, sol-nemesis, sara-chan (wai! will read your update soon!), Moonraven, Teteiyus, Gnine, Shavica, kiske, hoshii, kami-chan (did u get my mail abt the seiyuus? Mou, hope my baka acct din eat that up too), chibi koneko (come to think of it, my brain only fluctuates between frazzled and reeeally frazzled. Hehe), whisper-chan (Koyasu's house is pink?! *snickers*), Ash (hope you're feeling better), Ember-fang, Eriol-sama, Eeyore (dun die!! *hands you water*), Isa-chan (lol! Am getting fat on chocs. ^^), Carter (*hugs* Arigatou. Your words mean a lot to me), morningwinds, JC Maxwell-Yuy, lupin, Midori, Akiko-Yuy, and last but not least, Ryu-chan.
There's really not many new ways to say this anymore. Kenken and Weiss boys not mine. Wouldn't be feeling depressed if they were.
Warning: OOC everybody except Omi. 'Cos he isn't described much. I also glossed over the medical stuff, 'cos I'd risk sounding even more like an idiot if I go into details. This chap officially moves the fic back into the prologue stage. So please bear with it if the scene seems familiar.
Hope this is worth the wait. Though I somehow feel it isn't. Gomen.
Read on please.
White
Chapter Eleven - Visits in the Night
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'blah blah' = thoughts
******* here means change of POV
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It was snowing again.
Large, white, cotton fluffs escaping from the clutches of night skies, drifting lazily to the ground. They were taking their time. After all, they had all night to play. They had all night to make their presence known to the world.
It didn't matter if their descent was not witnessed by many asleep at that time of the night. Those who missed it would know in the morning. It was not as if their beauty would have gone to waste. They could sense a pair of eyes watching them, thirstily drinking in the sight.
And it was for him they had come after all, the owner of that pair of violet eyes. He needed to remember, he mustn't forget…
They knew how they looked in contrast to the darkness that surrounded them. And they were there, if only to remind the voyeur of one fact…
…that something that beautiful could be borne out of the inky blackness.
It didn't matter that with the sun's first rays, they would be reduced to nothing again. That's the cycle of life after all. They would bring hope and comfort when they could, to those who wished to see them as such. They would continue to do so, repeatedly, randomly, if only to remind that they were there, just hidden amidst the darkness, just biding their time.
And so they continued to drift, lazily, soothingly, specks of white breaking the monotony of black, flake after flake calling out to the pair of violet eyes watching them from beyond that window…
…calling out for him to remember, and to never forget….
********
He was standing by the window again. Night after night, this was the sight that greeted him. It soothed him somewhat, though he didn't know why. Night after night, the sight comforted him, if only because those frail, white flakes broke the horrible, never-ending expanse of black that was not only before his eyes, but that had also encroached itself upon his soul.
It helped make the waiting more bearable…
How many nights had it been since he had found his angel lying in the endless white? He couldn't really remember. Too long already. But at least his angel was still here with him. At least he hadn't gone back to where he had come from.
It was so close. Much too close.
He had almost lost him. Almost.
In the end, whom should he thank? His loved ones for refusing to take the angel with them? Or that man in the blue garb who wouldn't give up?
All he knew was that the heart that had refused to beat and started beating again. Medical explanations were lost on him. The details didn't matter. The explanations on hypothermic patients in catatonic states reviving after rewarming didn't matter. None of that mattered, as long as it meant that he had another chance.
Now all he had to do was wait patiently for his sleeping angel to wake up again.
How long that would take, he didn't know. No one knew apparently. Another one of those explanations that he didn't register. What did that doctor say? It all depended on the individual.
But at least it was only slumber. And he knew that the slumber would end. He just knew. And no matter how long it took, he would wait by his side. He wanted to be the first thing those lovely eyes would see when they opened.
And as long as they would open, it didn't matter how they would look like, even if they were those dull, emotionless eyes he had dreaded seeing.
As long as they would open, he would make them alive again, no matter what it would take, no matter how long it would take.
Turning from the window, he walked slowly, quietly, back to his seat by the bed. He had traced this path numerous times already. He didn't need the light to show his way. He had taken to keeping his vigil in the dark, the only dim light being the moon's rays straying in through the open blinds. It suited the melancholic mood better. The harsh white light too glaring on the pale skin of the bed's occupant.
A slender hand reached out to clutch another frail one to his cheek. Closing his eyes, he memorised the feel of that soft palm against his skin. How he had missed that touch. How stupid of him to have never cherished it before. How he wished for the time to come when that hand would raise on its own accord to tenderly caress his face again.
And the time would come, wouldn't it?
Turning the palm upward, he gently placed a soft kiss on the cool skin before holding it possessively in both hands, while resting his elbows on the bed, gaze falling on the soft face of a brunette. So beautiful, despite the numerous tubes running into his body. So peaceful.
Did the brunette know he was waiting for him to awake? Did the brunette know he was not the only one waiting?
Resting his forehead onto their clasped hands, he closed his tired eyes. He had given up sleep these past nights, so as to sneak into the brunette's room, to have the only quiet times with him alone.
He was not the only one waiting. And he couldn't forget that fact. His older teammate wouldn't let him forget.
Every single day, Yohji was here with him, hovering, worrying. It was a miracle that they could be in the same room without the blonde losing control. It was as if his teammate had decided to call an awkward truce, if only not to disturb the invalid. And also to avoid the certainty of getting them both thrown out by the doctor if they so much as hinted at destroying the peace in the establishment.
He was grateful for that decision. After all, Omi couldn't be there all the time. He had school. They had forced him to go, despite the fact that he was reluctant to.
He knew Yohji would be livid if he found out about his nightly visits. Although he was surprised that after the initial protests, Yohji had indeed listened to Omi and gone back rather obediently every time night fell. What the blonde did at night, he didn't know. He was most probably out wandering again, seeking comfort wherever he could. But come daylight, Yohji would be back by the brunette's side.
He was selfish. Yes, he wanted the brunette to wake up. But he wanted him to wake up in the dead of night, when he was alone with him. He didn't know what he would do, what he could do if Yohji was there. The blonde certainly wouldn't allow him to hold the brunette in his presence.
And he was scared. Who would the brunette see first? Who would he want to see?
After all that he had done, what were the chances that he would be the one the brunette wanted by his side?
It was laughable, how the usually confident leader of Weiss could be reduced to this unsure, questioning state. He realised that the brunette had always managed to reduce him to such. It was one of the reasons why he had pushed him away. And yet, now, he wouldn't have it any other way.
If being in control meant being without Ken, he would not hesitate on which to choose. Not anymore. He just hoped that his decision hadn't come too late.
He shivered. It was getting cold in the room. Letting go of the hand he was clasping, he tugged the blanket more securely up under the brunette's chin, before reclaiming the frail limb. Long, pale fingers brushed aside soft bangs, before lovingly stroking one thin cheek.
"Ken. Me o samashite kure?*" He whispered. "Ore no tame ni?*"
Once again, there was no response to his aching plea. So empty, his heart. Was this how he made Ken feel when he refused to return the brunette's feelings? No. It was worse. Much worse. He knew that.
"I will never let you feel that way again. Please, let me make it up to you?"
Brushing his fingers over dry lips that have yet to regain their colour, his heart clenched even more as he remembered their taste, remembered how freely those kisses had been given to him. Bitterness engulfed him as he recalled who had claimed those lips after him. Yet whom could he truly blame? He could not deny the answer. That person was himself.
"I'm so sorry Ken. He won't touch you again. I promise."
Pained violet eyes closed as cold lips pressed themselves onto the back of the brunette's hand again. The next words were anguished.
"Ore wa hontou ni baka da na.*"
He clutched the hand tighter as a heavy head was rested on the bed, face turned toward the brunette, eyes not leaving those pallid features. He was so tired. But he didn't want to sleep, lest by some miracle, those lids would open that night, to reveal chocolate orbs that he had missed so much.
Yet, unbidden, his sight turned hazy, and his lids slowly drooped, no matter how hard he struggled to keep them open. Whispering one last sentence, he sank into the oblivion he had been fighting for so long.
"Me o samashite. Ore wa matte te iru yo*"
*******
There was someone calling him.
He could hear the voice…deep…sensual….pleading…
Who was it? Who was it that wanted him to come back?
But come back to where? Where had he gone?
There was darkness all around him. Strangely soothing, comforting. He didn't want to leave. But that voice wouldn't leave him alone.
It kept calling, intermittently. Sometimes near, sometimes far away. But always there was that longing in it.
He could ignore it at first. But it had somehow drawn him up through layers and layers of grey nothingness. And now that he was nearer the surface, he could not tune it away.
There it was again…
'Ore wa matte te iru yo….'
So aching, that tone. Was the caller waiting for him to respond? He tried to speak, to answer, but his voice wouldn't obey him. His lips wouldn't move.
It was gone now, the voice. Was the caller tired of waiting already?
He could sense a presence though. It was there, just beyond that last barrier of cloudy darkness before him. Should he try and break through that cloud? Should he see who was waiting?
Part of him didn't want to leave the place he was in. He was so tired. And in the nothingness, he could rest. He didn't know what lay waiting outside that safe haven. He didn't know why he was scared.
But another part of him was restless, trapped too long. And that part hesitated in sinking back into the grey mist. It would seem that the hesitation was enough though. The decision was made for him as he felt his consciousness suddenly buoyed, sent spiraling towards the surface.
Sounds. They were the first to come to him. A constant bleeping, too loud to his sensitive ears. It took a while for that jarring to die down to just bearable.
He listened for a while. The bleeping was so unfamiliar. It made him uncomfortable. It was when he tried straining for hints of other signs of life that he realised that there was silence. Loud silence. He didn't like it. He was unused to it. As far as he could remember, it was never that quiet in his room back at the Koneko.
Strange. Why does that recollection seem so far away?
It was as if there was a huge gap in his memories. He tried to grasp at fleeting images, but they eluded him. He just remembered feeling cold…so cold….
There was warmth now though. He could feel it tingling up his left arm. A pressure on his hand, as if someone was clutching it in a tight grip. A ticklish feeling on his bare skin. What was it?
Then he heard it. Finally, other than the silence, he heard it. A soft breathing. Comforting, lulling…
Turning his head towards that sound, he tried to open his eyes. It was hard. It was as if they had been glued shut. Had he been asleep that long? Why couldn't he remember?
He felt so weak. He couldn't really focus at first. He blinked tiredly. It was as if everything was swimming. Then he saw it. Splotches of red, slowly coalescing into woven strands of vibrant silk. And the silk was framing a pale, refined face.
As his brain registered the visage, he froze, disbelieving.
'Aya…'
He couldn't help staring, wondering if he was hallucinating. What was Aya doing here, asleep next to him? Where was he? Why couldn't he remember?
Weary, dazed eyes couldn't stop taking in the sight before him. A soft sigh escaped his lips. The redhead looked so beautiful asleep. So relaxed, so young… He had never had the chance to see him this way before, much as he wanted to. Aya always left him alone in the bed after they made love. Aya always….
Suddenly, it all came crashing back. The onslaught of memories causing him to gasp for air, the action alerting him painfully of the tube down his throat.
He nearly gagged, as much from the foreign invasion, as from the emotions welling up in him.
With difficulty, he forced himself to relax. But he couldn't force away the memories….
No. Not making love. Aya always left him after having sex.
It was just sex.
With Aya. With Schuldich.
A soft, pained sound escaped from him as he clenched his eyes shut again. He remembered. He remembered all too well. What the German did to him. What he had let the German do.
He had taken part in that dirty, sick act.
He wished he had stayed in that nothingness. At least there wasn't any pain there. At least there wasn't the feeling of his insides tearing apart. And at least after the pain, he wouldn't be left feeling so hollow.
Strange. He welcomed the silence now. It went well with that empty feeling.
He had come to realise that the bleeping came from a heart monitor beside him. So he was in a hospital. How had he gotten here?
He was alive. He didn't know how he was supposed to feel about that.
Dull eyes turned toward the man beside him once more. So beautiful. Was he the one calling out to him? Was he the one waiting? Why was he here? Why was he holding onto his hand so tightly?
Did it really matter anymore?
What he would have given at one time to see the redhead like this when he woke up. But now….
The warmth in that touch was gone. He didn't pull away though. He was too tired. He only watched dispassionately, detachedly, noting the silent rise and fall of the redhead's chest as he took in slow, deep breaths in his slumber.
His mind must have drifted again. He didn't know how long he laid there, staring, but not really seeing. He was jerked back to reality when he felt a slight shift in his teammate's posture, a slight hitch in his breathing.
Aya was waking up.
As quickly as he could, he turned his head away, closing his eyes and feigning slumber. He didn't know why he did it. He just didn't want to face Aya, didn't want him to know he was awake.
A soft sigh. A weight lifted off the bed. He felt his hand being raised, and he barely hid the flinch when he felt his skin touching a soft cheek. Just like he almost couldn't hide the tensing of his body when gentle fingers stroked his jawline. It helped that he was too weak to move anyway.
Another sigh. Then a whisper near his ear, hot breath tickling his lobe.
"Ken. You're still sleeping ne?"
He didn't respond. He didn't want to respond.
"It's going to be morning soon. I have to go. I'll be back later though. I promise."
He felt his hand placed beneath the blanket, before those long fingers untangled themselves from his.
A hand brushing away his bangs from his forehead.
"Would you wake up for me, when I come back tonight?" That slight plea in that deep voice again. So strange, to hear him like that.
A weight partially leaning on him and a gust of warm breath were all the warnings he got before he felt cool lips on his forehead. The kiss lingered, soft and gentle, and he couldn't help the wetness rising up beneath his lids. He held the tears in though.
Finally, Aya drew away.
"Mata na Ken. Oyasumi.*"
A hesitation. Then soft footsteps crossing the room. The opening of a door. And then he was gone.
Empty chocolate eyes opened, a trail of tears sliding down one pale cheek. He turned his head, staring at the door the redhead just exited from.
Why was Aya treating him that way? What prompted the gentleness, the change?
Weren't those gestures what he had craved for from that man for so long? Then why was his heart still so heavy in his chest? Why didn't the emptiness go away?
Raising his trembling right hand, he touched the spot on his forehead the redhead had so gently kissed. He could still feel his lips imprinted there somehow.
He rubbed at it weakly, wanting to erase that sensation.
Closing haunted eyes once again, he willed all thoughts away as he sank back eagerly into the darkness in search of his peace.
As the mist closed over him once more, there was only one regret echoing in his heart….
'Why Aya? Why only now?'
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to be continued
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* " Me o samashite kure? Ore no tame ni?" -- "Please open your eyes? For me?"
* "Ore wa hontou ni baka da na." -- "I am really a fool."
* "Me o samashite. Ore wa matte te iru yo." -- "Open your eyes. I'm waiting."
* "Mata na Ken. Oyasumi." -- "Later, Ken. Goodnight."
*sighs* I hope this chapter was alright. I know I probably deserve to get ignored for not updating for so long. But still, tell me what you think? If just to let me know that you still want the fic to go on?
Sankyuu na. Totemo.
