Author's notes
It has been ages since my last update. I'm really sorry. Other than real life getting in the way, I had to find time to sit down and really re-think where this fic is heading. Too many branches in the road, but only one I could take. Dunno how many hair I've pulled out over this.
This chapter is much much longer than my previous ones. Although quantity does not necessarily equate quality, I still hope this would somehow make up for the long wait I've subjected my lovely readers to. Thank you for bearing with me, especially thanks to those who reviewed the prev chap:
Rika-chan (gomen! Will reply you soon! ^^;;), kami-chan (missed you! *huggles*), lise-chan, Marty, lola-chan (enjoyed the RPS?), ku-chan, sara-chan (take care of you eye!), Whisper-chan, Ash (how are you? ^^), Isa-chan, Eeyore, chibi koneko, CherubKatan, Carter, Windy-kun, Cece, Rurouni Valerie, Shavica, Random Rasberries, siberian, hoshii, Moonraven (eeps, gimme more time on your fic?), lupin (belated Happy CNY!), yosomi, keeshe, Mad at gravity, Astralkitten, Mei (thanks for your lovely review!), and anamie (of cos I remember you. ^^)
Whisper-chan : The Omi section is for you. Because you suugested it, and because you requested for it. I hope I didn't screw it up. ^^:;
Marty : As promised, a YohjiKen scene. Hope you will enjoy it, well at least the second half of it, since you beta'ed the first half. Ehehe. Thanks for being such an understanding and lovely friend. *huggles*
It should be very clear by now that the Weiss boys are not mine. Wanna think otherwise? Not my problem.
White
Chapter Thirteen - Irresolution in this Love
--------------------------------------------------------
'blah blah' = thoughts
***** here means change of POV
--------------------------------------------------------
Ten steps. It took ten steps for him to pace the length of his room. Another ten to pace back.
He had done that for the past hour already. And now he was just sitting on his bed, listening to the ticking of the clock, listening to the dragged-out seconds passing by.
He was exhausted. But unlike the minutes before, he was no longer in the danger of nodding off.
He had passed that fine line between the two extremes of exhaustion - the point when your body decides that it's just too exhausted to continue being exhausted, gives up on expiring, and finds some means to go on stubbornly and indefinitely instead.
An hour had passed since Ken had retired to his room. Anytime now.
He let his mind run, carefully steering it away from raw wounds. Careful not to let it register the hollow ache in his chest. He would need energy to cope with the situation later.
Anytime now.
Tonight would be a repetition of all the nights before. He couldn't help hoping that the outcome would be different. That he would not be sent away broken, even more tired than ever. It was that hope that made him repeat his actions every night. It was that hope, and also his love for the brunette, his yearning to want to keep Ken safe.
The house was so quiet. But he knew he was not the only one awake, waiting.
Anytime now. Anytime…
Then it came.
The still night air was shattered by an anguished scream that ripped his chest apart and sent his heart pounding, no matter how many times he had heard it before. Violet eyes tore open and in the next second, he was out of his bed, bolting towards and into the next room, nearly tearing down the door in his haste to be the first to go through.
He heard running footsteps behind him, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered except the form of the thrashing brunette in the bed.
Just like before, his heart clenched at the tormented features and the sweat-drenched form. Just like before, he pulled the trembling body into his arms and cradled it tight, ignoring the wildly flailing limbs and moans of protest.
Just like before, he called the brunette's name in a heart-wrenching voice, willing him to wake up, willing him to come back to him.
Would it be different this time? Would it?
His breath caught and he stared in anticipation as lush lashes fluttered and the brunette in his arms struggled to wake. Silently, pleadingly, he willed the man in his arms to see him, know him, to relax in his embrace. He couldn't help tightening his hold as the deep brown orbs finally opened and locked onto him.
"It's me Ken. It's me."
But it was the same. Always the same.
The same searing pain burned through him as the gaze widened and turned even more terrified. The same lump lodged in his throat as the struggles intensified and piteous, choked cries tore out of the brunette's slender throat.
He held on tighter. He didn't want to let go.
But like always, he had to. Was made to.
Rough hands jerked him aside and laid claim to the suffering brunette. He could only back away and watch as the one he loved clung to his blonde teammate, trembling, crying, muttering words that he couldn't hear.
Were those the same words? Was it what had been said before?
He couldn't help shivering as he recalled the night those words were first uttered. The same night that Ken had come home.
'That's not Aya. It's not!'
'Get him away from me. Please, make him go!'
He didn't really know what Ken meant. He could only make a calculated guess. But that guess was enough to spear through him a guilt and pain like he had never felt before.
He should leave. But like always, he couldn't. Not until he could see the brunette calming down, even though in another's arms. Not until he could be somewhat assured that Ken would be okay.
He watched avidly, sadly, as sobs subsided, breathing slowed, and posture relaxed.
He watched and waited. But the reprieve did not seem to be coming. It would be like those other nights, when he would leave without the brunette ever acknowledging his presence again, without Ken registering the fact that he was really him, and not some nightmare come alive.
He closed his eyes. So tired. His chest ached, so much. He turned to go, defeated.
But then…
"Gomen…" A shuddering whisper, uttered in the sudden silence of the night. But to him, the sound was clear as day.
He turned, eyes wide, not daring to believe. He felt his heart leap into his throat and he sucked in a quick breath as melting dark eyes met his, looking at him, seeing him. Eyes that were tearful still, but no longer terrified.
"Go…gomen nasai."
He couldn't help the moisture in his own eyes, and the small smile that broke his frozen face. He took one step forward involuntarily, but stilled as the gaze turned away and disappeared within the folds of his teammate's shirt once more.
No. Too much to ask too soon. He shouldn't have expected anything more. That acknowledgement was enough. At least for the night.
One more lingering gaze, and then he turned to go, wearing a wistful smile. He silently moved away, passing and ignoring the pair of sympathetic blue eyes looking at him from the doorway.
He entered his room only to pace it again, trying to calm his pounding heart, trying not to give in to his tears, even if they were ones of relief.
Would he hear the same scream tomorrow night? Maybe then, he would finally be the one to bring peace back to the brunette?
Then again, shouldn't he be hoping that the nightmares would stop plaguing his love? What kind of person was he to wish that kind of torment on Ken, even if the torment could possibly grant him the opportunity to hold him tight again?
Sighing, he sank bone-wearily onto silken sheets, face buried in his hands.
It would appear that between hope and desperation, there also was only a very thin line.
*****
He never liked winters.
The bleak landscape, the heavy, still atmosphere, the dreariness…it was so stifling he could barely breathe.
Most of all he hated the cold. Hated the fact that he had to be all wrapped up even if it was just stepping outside to get the mail or the papers. Hated the fact that he could not wear his beloved bermudas, even when in the shop.
It was just too freaking freezing.
And he had one more issue with this winter in particular. The weather kept the fangirls away. It wasn't a new occurrence, and he never thought he would ever lament the absence of those girls. He used to love the lull, for he could spend more time on his computer, chatting with his longtime friend with the dubious nickname of "I_hate_umbrellas*".
He had always wondered about that nickname. He couldn't help it. It was just…weird.
He could use this lull to ponder on the weirdness of it all. He would have jumped at the chance before. But no. This winter, he had bigger problems to ponder over, a more messed-up situation to sort out. And he was at a loss. A master analyst and strategist he may be, but those skills were all for naught.
Matters of the heart could not be solved with the click of a mouse. And one heart was complicated enough, let alone three.
He sighed heavily. The cold certainly did not help. Brainfreeze and all.
A chair sliding back softly. He glanced up. His co-worker this morning, his leader, was silently making his way to the back, to the stairs leading up to the rooms, a small white package in his hand.
Blue eyes studied the lithe figure. Brows slowly creased in sympathy.
The redhead looked normal enough, if being an icy prick was considered normal. There didn't seem to be anything different about him, to the untrained eye. But he could tell. He was perceptive enough, especially when it concerned the people he cared deeply about.
And yes. He did care about Aya, no matter what he had felt towards the redhead before. He had been so angry at his leader's callous treatment of Ken. But now, he didn't have the heart to be angry anymore.
He didn't have the heart to bear grudges against someone who knew that they had seriously fucked up, and who was paying so much for it.
Aya was hurting. That he could tell. The usually haughty shoulders were slightly lax. And on the redhead, one could consider it almost drooping. The usually dignified and graceful footsteps were heavier. As if he was weighed down. As if his feet were dragging.
No. His leader was far from his normal self.
He knew where Aya was going. The redhead was headed towards his teammate's room, though knowing full well that the brunette wasn't there. He would enter the empty room, place the package on the table, and then he would leave, not ever saying a single word.
He knew what the package contained. He had smelt it when his leader brought it in that morning. The wonderful, tantalising smell of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. Ken's favourite.
It was not the first time Aya left gifts in Ken's room. There were fresh blossoms everyday for the past weeks. All placed silently. Always with the hope that there would be some form of acknowledgement from the brunette. Always in vain.
And he knew that the gestures would continue. Because Aya loved Ken.
He had known ever since he received that shaky call from the redhead on the night Ken had nearly died. And after the episodes with the nightmares, he couldn't doubt the redhead's feelings anymore.
He would never forget the pain in those violet eyes every single time the redhead's comfort was rejected.
A few nights ago, Ken's nightmares had finally stopped. Yet he couldn't help replaying the brunette's words in his mind. He hadn't understood what was going on. Hadn't understood what Ken was saying. He never asked his leader what it all meant. He knew he would never be told anyway, and he didn't want to burden his leader anymore.
Without a doubt, Aya loved Ken. But Ken… Did he still love Aya?
Ken was so changed now. He couldn't really read him anymore. Before, he could identify every emotion through those lovely, lively eyes. But now, they no longer told him anything. They no longer talked. They were so shielded they might as well be dead.
He still remembered the adoring glances those chocolate orbs would send the redhead's way in the past. He still remembered the love in them, and also, sadly, the confusion and hurt. He had been bowled over by the amount of love Ken had for his leader. He had been worried that it would be wasted on such an unfeeling character. For a while there he thought he had been proven right. But now, it would appear that the same love was being reciprocated. The timing was all wrong though.
Sometimes, he thought he could catch a shadow of those emotions when Ken chanced to glance at their leader. But the glances were rare. And he might have been trying too hard to read emotions in those empty eyes.
But it was obvious that things were not settled between them. Ken had been avoiding the redhead. Knowing his upfront character, he wouldn't be doing that if he had come to terms with what happened. If he had fully sorted out his feelings, he wouldn't be avoiding Aya's eyes.
He wished that his two friends could work things out. Maybe it was shallow to be thinking that way. But Ken had gone through so much, and Aya was going through so much, so wouldn't it be a shame if nothing came out of all the sufferings?
But after all he had been through, would Ken dare to risk loving Aya again? Would Ken dare love anyone again? Someone…like Yohji?
He sighed and rubbed his face tiredly. The addition of his oldest teammate certainly complicated an already complicated puzzle.
Yohji had always been protective and concerned towards the brunette and himself. But it had always been slightly different with Ken. Yohji would always seek the brunette's company. His face would light up whenever Ken entered the room. Of all of them. Ken would be the one that Yohji would cancel a date for, even without the brunette asking.
Even before the hospitalisation, way before, he had already noticed when the blonde would sometimes give the brunette tender and wistful looks. Ken had been too in love with Aya to notice then. Would the brunette notice now though? If he did, would he take up Yohji's unspoken offer?
In a way, he hoped that Ken hadn't noticed the blonde's feelings. Knowing the brunette, it would cause him even more pain, if he didn't feel the same way, if he still loved Aya. And he knew that would be the last thing Yohji wanted, to cause Ken more pain.
He jumped as a soft voice cut into his thoughts. Turning his head quickly, wide blue eyes noticed his leader looking quizzically at him. He had been too wrapped up in his thoughts to hear him coming back.
"Gomen na Aya-kun. What did you say?"
"I asked whether you would like some tea. I'm making some."
"Ah. Yes please. A hot drink would be good." He smiled, not finding it surprising when the gesture was not returned. Getting up from his chair by the counter, he trailed quietly after his leader into the kitchen.
He settled himself into a seat by the table and watched as his leader busied himself. Tugging at his blonde bangs, he pondered about the silent redhead. Aya must know about Yohji's feelings. The tension between those two was so palpable. It must be killing him to see Ken in Yohji's arms all those nights. And yet he never said anything.
He frowned. That was the problem, he suddenly surmised. Aya never said anything about his thoughts or feelings. Not a single explanation to Ken. He knew his leader was an advocate of action speaking louder than words, and he probably thought that his gestures conveyed enough. But how could the brunette understand his love, when all the while Aya had made him feel otherwise?
There was a saying - the person who tied the bell would have to be the person to untie it.* For better or for worse, Aya would have to be the one to start the much-needed conversation with the brunette. Aya would have to be the one to break this stalemate.
And he, unfortunately, would have to be the one to give him the nudge. Couldn't very well depend on Yohji to do that.
He nodded gratefully to the redhead as a piping hot cup of tea was placed in front of him. "Aya-kun.", he called out as his leader turned to go. Violet eyes regarded him coolly as Aya stopped and waited for what he had to say. He grimaced inwardly. If only he knew what that was supposed to be.
"Erm…the cookies…they are from the Nagoya bakery in Shibuya ne?"
A curt nod. Totally not encouraging.
He fidgeted slightly. "Ken-kun like those a lot. He used to bug me and Yohji to go get it for him when he couldn't leave the shop. Erm…I'm sure he'll be happy that you got it for him."
He fidgeted even more as violet eyes turned away and his leader clutched his cup more tightly.
"I wonder if he would offer us some. He used to just gobble them down so fast before I could even get a bite. You should give them to him directly you know, then maybe he would offer to let you…"
"Get to the point." Stern purple eyes were trained on him and he gulped when he read the impatience in them. Better get this over with soon. Get to the point Aya said. So get to the point he would.
"When are you going to talk to him, Aya-kun?" The frozen glare of death did nothing to deter him as he felt a surge of conviction. "When are you going to tell Ken-kun that you love him?"
"It's none of your business." The redhead made to move away but he was not having any of that. He moved to intercept.
"It is my business because he's my friend and he's hurting. And you're hurting too and so is Yohji-kun and this can't go on!" He stopped directly in front of the redhead, back to the door, and looked up, blue eyes pleading. "Please. You need to tell him. All the presents…they're not enough."
"They were enough for you to surmise that I love him." Aya stubbornly turned his head, not wanting to meet the puppy-dog eyes. "So why wouldn't he see it?"
He couldn't believe it. Could Aya really be that dense? And to think that he was so much older than him. Age. Too overrated. Feeling even more confident, he stepped forward, ignoring the warning bells in his head as he laid a hand on the redhead's forearm. His heart panged as he felt the slight trembling beneath his fingers.
"Aya-kun. Can't you see that Ken-kun is confused? He might think that you're doing it 'cos of pity, or guilt…or worse, that you're playing with him."
The muscles in the redhead's arm tensed perceptibly as pained violet eyes refocused on him. "What?" A strained whisper.
He sighed. "What makes you think he would see that you love him, when you never showed him your love before?"
Another whisper. "I…I'm not toying with him."
He clutched the arm comfortingly. "I know that. But he doesn't. He has too many doubts, questions. You have to tell him and make him see."
There was no response. Slowly, he took his hand away.
"I told him the other day you were the one who brought him to the hospital." He looked at the redhead who had backed away to lean on the cabinet. "He asked me." He added as questioning violet eyes looked down at him. "He also asked how you knew where he was. I didn't know the answer."
"He didn't ask me about it." Aya looked down into his tea, his tone quiet.
"He's scared Aya-kun. I'm sure you can understand that?"
Again, for a while, no response. Then another curt nod.
"Anyway, don't you think you should be the one to go to him, to talk first, since you were the one who pushed him away?" He was risking his life here. This had better work.
He held his breath, waiting to see how the redhead would respond, waiting to see whether he should start running for his life. But the response was not something he expected.
"I'm…I'm scared too." Came a soft, tired voice. "I'm scared I'll lose him."
His mouth dropped and he stared in shocked wonder at his leader, who was standing with his shoulders slumped in defeat, head lowered. He had never seen him so vulnerable before. Aya had never allowed anyone to see him this way. He couldn't help the sudden surge of affection for his leader. He felt proud. He didn't know why.
Approaching the redhead, he reached out to hold the unoccupied hand and clutched it tightly, trying to convey his support and his sympathy. Soft, blue eyes searched out violet, and held the gaze gently, comfortingly when they finally met, so as to take the sting out of his next words.
"You'll lose him if you don't try. You may still lose him even if you do. But at least you would know that you tried ne?" He smiled softly, encouragingly. "Go talk to him Aya. You know you want to."
As purple orbs looked searchingly into his blue ones, he never let his gaze waver. This was right. This was what had to be done. No matter the outcome, the talk between his two teammates could not be avoided any longer.
It was a while longer when Aya finally responded.
"I'll think about it." And he heaved an inward sigh of relief. He felt a slight squeeze of his hand, the only thanks that he would get, before the redhead let go and walked away.
He allowed himself another small smile. That didn't go too badly. He turned and walked back to the table.
He was entitled to his tea now, to chase the freaking cold away, and to calm his over-stressed heart.
*****
He felt so exposed.
The sun's rays harshly reflected, intensified by the purely white landscape. It was too glaring. Shadows showed up clearly. A sharp contrast to the truth-revealing canvas they were cast on.
There was no place to hide.
Like the shadows, he couldn't be more conspicuous as he sat alone on a rickety old bench in the neighbourhood park, huddled in a thick, worn navy-blue coat. He didn't want to be out there. And yet he did. He needed some air after all, his room too enclosing, suffocating, what with the smell of fresh blossoms tainting the air within the confined space.
The flowers he had thrown away. But their smell lingered. Just like no matter what he did, that one person would linger in his thoughts.
The exorcism of the sheets was supposed to help. But it didn't. Nothing worked. Not after the nightmares.
The dark dreams hadn't been plaguing him for a while now. But like the fragrance, like Aya, the after-effects lingered stubbornly. They just wouldn't fucking go away, even after so many days.
And the image that lingered most was a pair of pained violet eyes.
Tired brown orbs stared listlessly downwards as fingers plucked nervously at the hem of his thick coat. Funny how they managed to twitch even though they felt frozen. He continued toying with the frayed material, working out his uneasiness. Why did those eyes still affect him so much?
He had hurt him, that's why.
It shouldn't have mattered. He himself had been hurt more, so much more by Aya. But it did matter. Because he wasn't out for payback.
He never meant to hurt him. Not consciously. But he had, by reacting that way toward him, by saying what he did. He couldn't help the reaction though. The vision in his dream was too real, the memory still fresh. Did Aya know why? Did he suspect?
Why had he come anyway, night after night? Yes. He knew that Aya was there every single night. As soon as he had calmed down in Yohji's arms, he had sensed his presence, had seen him out of the corner of his eyes. But he never did look straight at him. He still could not meet the violet gaze, not in the day, nor at night.
But that last night, he had given into the pull. He had looked. And what he had seen made him do something for the first time since he went home. He spoke to Aya. He apologised. He would never forget the smile on the redhead's face.
He didn't like it. Just like he didn't like the gifts that Aya had taken to giving him lately. But he didn't want to approach him. He would have to approach him though, in order to tell him to stop. And so the gifts continued.
He had questions. But it appeared they would remain unanswered.
Shivering, he cupped numb fingers over his mouth, attempting to breathe some life into them. Then, tilting his cold-flushed face slightly upwards, he heaved a sigh and watched, oddly fascinated, as his breath, his feelings, crystallised into mist in the cold air. So clearly seen, yet so hazy. He chuckled softly. It was ironically, stupidly funny.
"Ooi. Share the joke."
He jumped and whirled around, just in time for a rather large brown parcel to come smacking not too lightly into the side of his head.
"Itai!" He yelped as he almost fell out of his seat. He turned to glare at the offender, but couldn't help the slight softening of his eyes as his gaze rested on the grinning face of his blonde teammate. He was glad to see the lanky playboy. Yohji could distract him. Turn his dark thoughts away.
"What's that for? And why are you here?"
"I could ask the same of you," came the cheery reply as Yohji sauntered oh-so-casually towards him. Stopping behind the bench, he pointed to Ken's feet. "Came to give you that."
Raising his eyebrows slightly, Ken looked back down at where the brown parcel had fallen. He bent to pick it up. Sighing, he turned pleading chocolate pools on his teammate. "Please don't tell me it is what I think it is."
A light-hearted laugh as the blonde moved around and plonked himself onto the bench beside him. "Well, that would depend on what you think it is wouldn't it?"
He frowned slightly and studied the parcel some more. Poked it. Soft. He groaned. "It is. I know it is. Aren't you sick of this?"
"Nope! Not until I've given you enough of them for you to use a new one everyday." The blonde grinned lazily and busied himself with lighting a cigarette, green eyes alive with mirth.
Ken rolled his eyes, curtly snuffing out the unnamed bitterness and dread threatening to rise in him. He forced a light smirk. "I'm not you Yohji. I don't need new bed sheets everyday."
The blonde paused slightly while inhaling his cigarette, eyes stilling for a split second. The small movement was not noticed however as Ken started tearing open the paper.
"So what horrible ones did you get me this time?" He said, keeping his voice light as he tried to will his previous thoughts away.
"Hey, at least I bother. Someone has to after you threw out nearly every single one that you had."
"I'd rather you didn't." He grumbled half-heartedly, getting into the swing of things. Finally getting the wrapping undone, he smiled slightly as he saw the rather tame blue and green design staring up at him. "These are bearable at least. The other one…I swear I could hear those damn sheep bleating their heads off every night. Not to mention the one with pink and purple checks." He shuddered dramatically, inwardly smiling.
He enjoyed these bantering sessions with Yohji. It had taken him long enough to get into them. It had taken Yohji so much coaxing. But he could fall into them more easily now, and actually looked forward to them. They allowed him to practice being alive again. He wondered if his teammate knew.
A friendly punch on his shoulder jerked him out of his thoughts. "Be grateful Kenken! The sheep and fluffy clouds suit you. Cute."
He glared properly this time. "I'm not cute!"
Yohji smirked at him, leaning closer. "You're not? Hmmm…I hadn't noticed."
He growled slightly in irritation and turned back to the sheets in his hands. He would never win this argument. He never did. He fingered the sheets. Soft and nice. Cotton.
As if reading his thoughts, Yohji added: "And it's cotton again this time. Though I still think the silk ones I got you last round were much more comfortable. Not to mention sexy and sophisticated." A smirk. Another puff on his cigarette. "Why don't you like silk anyway?"
His breath caught. He couldn't help tensing slightly. He didn't want to talk about this. He didn't want to think about that night.
There was an awkward silence. Then, a light touch on his arm. "Ken?"
He could come up with a quip and just brush it off. He should. But inexplicably, fatigue suddenly set in, the good mood he had been trying to build up slipping away. As suddenly came the feeling that he wanted to be alone.
"Kenken?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
Yohji had to strain to hear the whispered words. He sighed softly, flicking the cigarette away, watching it fizzle as it came into contact with the damp snow. He turned to study the profile of the slumped brunette beside him.
Ken looked like all the wind had been sucked out of him. He definitely looked like he wanted to be left alone. But unlike the many times before, Yohji didn't want to just let it go. It had been long enough. He wanted Ken to talk. Wanted Ken to confide in him. Wanted more than anything for Ken to let his troubles out, and to let him into his heart. If only a little. Just a little would do.
"Ken…" He began softly, green eyes intent on the brunette's face. Or as much of the brunette's face as he could see with it turned down and away from him. "It's Aya isn't it? They remind you of him." He gave a soft, short bark of odd laughter as a shadow flashed through jade orbs. "I should have known."
Brown eyes flashed suddenly. "I said I don't want to talk about it!" Ken spat out and leapt to his feet, body tense as a drawn bow. He started stalking away.
Even though he had expected a negative reaction, Yohji was still slightly thrown by the intensity of Ken's words. But he recovered quickly enough, jumping up and striding after the brunette, a hand reaching out to grab an arm.
Ken turned and smacked Yohji's hand away. "What part of 'I don't want to talk about it' do you not understand?" His voice quivered. He hated it. Why was he so damn weak?!
He tried to struggle as vice-like grips clamped down on his shoulders and held him to his spot. Yohji's voice was determined, controlled. Too controlled. "You're done with running away Ken. You're talking to me whether you like it or not. Now talk."
"Leave me alone. Get off my back Yohji!" Ken growled warningly while increasing his fight. He felt his control teetering. He had to make Yohji let go. He would kick Yohji if he had to. He would.
His struggles grew, as did his frustration. And when the struggles didn't work, he really did kick his friend. Right on the shin. And that did it. Yohji snapped.
Emeralds sparking, he tightened his grip and shook Ken hard, fast, furious. "It's Aya isn't it? You still can't get him out of your head. After all this time, you still think of him don't you? Don't you?! Say it Ken! You still can't get over him. Or you don't want to get over him? Is that it?!"
"No! That's not true!" Ken pushed hard at the firm chest in front of him. It's not true. It's not! He could feel tears flooding his eyes. He did not want to cry! He did not want to be weak! "Shut up. Shut up!"
"I won't! Tell me the truth Ken. What do you feel when you see him, think of him, dream of him? Happy? Sad? Frightened? What?! Do you want him to hold you, to love you? Do you still love him? Do you?!"
"Stop it! Please!"
"Do you hate him or love him? Which is it? Tell me. Tell yourself! You have to face it. You have to know. Is it love, hate, what? I mean... shit Ken! What do you feel?"
"I don't know!!" Ken screamed. He couldn't stop the tears now. "I don't know!…God Yohji…you think I don't want to know? Do you think I like feeling so confused and angry all the time? I hate feeling so tired, useless, pathetic, stupid…Christ, I just want it all to go away! Why can't it all just go away?!"
He slumped then, and would have fallen onto his knees if Yohji hadn't held him up, cradled him to his chest, and held him tight. He sobbed, seeking the familiar haven within the folds of Yohji's tweed coat, burying his face as if trying to hide from the world. He barely registered the comforting murmur in his ear. "Let it out Ken. Let it out."
He couldn't contain the overwhelming emotions anymore. And he did let them all out.
"I hate this Yohji. I hate this so much." He choked, trembling, shivering. "I thought everything would…would just go away if I avoided him. I thought I could start over, that things would go back to the way they were before we ever…I thought…I thought I could forget and then…and everything would be okay…" His breath hitched, and his fists clutched tighter around his teammate's coat.
"But he's always there…always there…and I don't know what to think and I want to hit him sometimes and yell and sometimes I just want to run…run to him…run away from him…And then he had to go do all those things…the flowers…and…and stuff…and I would think that maybe…that maybe we could…But I…I can't believe that…don't want to believe that. I can't go through it again Yohji. I don't want to…don't want to…But that night…did you see his eyes Yohji? I see his eyes…and I hate it I hate it!"
Winding his arms around his teammate's waist, Ken pulled himself tighter against the firm body, relishing its support, its warmth. His sobbing gradually arrested itself. He felt lighter somehow. He wanted to continue, managed to in a calmer voice.
"Omi said he came after me that night, and I keep wondering how he knew, how he found out. And why? Why would he bother coming after me? He was there when I woke up Yohji…I woke up but I couldn't face him." Ken shuddered and sighed, taking comfort in the familiar scent of his friend. "I'm so lost." He whispered. "I don't understand him, me…don't understand anything."
He stopped for a while, as if wondering what else he needed to let out, what else he had to tell his friend. Then he chuckled suddenly, a soft, mirthless sound. "And you know what's the stupidest, Yohji?"
"What?" The blonde returned gently.
"The sheets…I keep thinking…silk can't absorb my tears." He laughed then, bitterly, as he burrowed his face into the crook of Yohji's neck.
Yohji smoothed his hand tenderly over tousled brunette locks, threading gloved fingers through the silky mess at the nape of a slender neck. His heart ached at the pain, the confusion emanating from the man in his arms. Ken was so vulnerable, fragile. But was his embrace enough?
He wanted to ask. He wanted nothing more than to spill his heart out and get Ken's in return. But how could he be certain that would be the outcome? What if Ken pushed him away? He wouldn't even be able to hold him close as a friend.
That place in Ken's heart, was it still taken by Aya? In order to move on, Ken needed to know, needed to find out which route to take with the redhead - to forgive him, or to forget him. Ken needed to stop avoiding the subject. And Yohji couldn't just stand by passively and watch, for he needed to know too. The route Ken finally chose would after all determine Yohji's fate.
Letting out a soft breath, he leaned his cheek against the top of Ken's head, one hand rubbing soothing circles over the brunette's thin back. He didn't like what he had to say, didn't like talking about Aya. But he had to help Ken. And help himself.
"What do you want Ken?" He asked softly. "You want him to leave you alone?"
A tensing of slim shoulders in his embrace. A heavy, pregnant pause. Then a whispered, "Yes."
Yohji squashed the tiny hope that sparked instinctively in his chest. There was something in that voice, a resignation, a sadness that was wrong. "You sure about that?"
Another pause. Yohji closed his eyes as Ken sighed into his neck, warm breath ghosting over his skin. The next words were even softer. "I don't know what game he's playing Yohji. I'm tired of it."
"Why don't you talk to him?" Yohji prompted.
Ken tensed even more. "I…I can't."
The next words he had to utter almost killed him. But he had to say them. For Ken. For himself. "Maybe he's doing all those things because…because he loves you."
He felt the loss immediately as Ken snapped ramrod straight and stepped out of his arms. He wanted to pull the brunette back into his hold as lack-lustre brown eyes looked up at him. His heart ached when he heard the emotionless tone. "No. He doesn't love me."
He took a step forward. The brunette took one step back, posture stiff, eyes unreadable.
"He doesn't love me. He made that clear."
"Ken."
Chocolate pools turned haunted as Ken looked away. "He doesn't. No one…no one could."
What? What did Ken say? Jade eye stared disbelieving at the brunette's back. What the hell was Ken talking about? He was so goddamned far from the truth. Why would he believe that?
His suspicions grew as he watched the slumped shoulders with narrowed eyes. Somehow, this wasn't just about Aya anymore. What actually happened that night? What did Ken mean when he said Aya wasn't Aya? If it wasn't Aya, then who was it?
So many questions. So many, shouting within his mind. And it was torturous, not knowing what had affected the brunette so. But he bit his tongue. Ken's shoulders were trembling slightly. He had pushed Ken far enough for now. He did not want to end up pushing Ken away. As unwillingly as he was, he knew the rest would have to wait.
But one thing could not wait. One thing needed to be made clear. Ken was wrong. So wrong.
A gentle hand reached out to turn the brunette to face him. Ken's head remained bowed. A gloved finger gently lifted the brunette's chin, and Yohji wanted to kill all those who had ever hurt the boy before him as he looked into those pools darkened by pain and sorrow.
Throwing all inhibition to the winds, he did the one thing he had longed to do for so long.
He leaned forward, and claimed the soft lips before him, swallowing the brunette's gasp of surprise.
Fingers on the brunette's chin gently tilted his head back as Yohji deepened the kiss, running his tongue over the soft lips, tasting their flavour, then dipping it in the sweet, warm mouth to caress its companion.
This was so lovely. He never wanted to stop.
There was no response from Ken, but Yohji didn't mind. And when a slight whimper escaped the brunette, he knew that his time was up, that he had to pull away. It didn't mean that he was willing, that it was easy for him to do it.
An aching heart was somewhat soothed by the sight of an adorably dazed young man, with dark eyes wide, lips parted, and a rapidly deepening flush fanning across both cheeks.
"Yo…Yohji…" Ken stuttered, breathless.
Chuckling softly, he rested his hands on Ken's waist, pulling him close, while laying his forehead against the other man's.
"Good. Now I have your full attention." He smiled softly. Then jade eyes turned serious. "I don't know who or what put that blasted thought in your head. I would kill the damn bastard who did. I want you to listen to me, and listen carefully. No one could not love you. Jesus Ken…don't you know how special you are?"
Ken only stared at him, eyes uncertain, disbelieving.
Yohji forced a light laugh. "Right. You really have no idea do you? Well I'm telling you now. You are special. And anyone who doesn't see that is a freaking idiot who isn't worth any of your time. You get me Ken?"
No response.
Gloved hands cupped the too thin, but still lovely face, forcing the brunette to directly meet his gaze. "Do you believe me? Or do I have to kiss you again?"
Ken blushed deeper and shoved Yohji's hands away. "Don't tease me Yohji." His voice was shaky. He stood there, slightly fidgeting, unsure of what to do.
The blonde sighed and wrapped his arms around Ken once more. "I'm not teasing. I meant every word I said. Just stop being so stubborn and pig-headed for once."
Yohji couldn't help the genuine laughter that broke from his lips as Ken butted his chin lightly with the top of his head in a show of indignant protest. God, how he adored this boy. He cuddled the brunette closer, enjoying the contact. Ken sighed and relaxed into his friend's hold, posture easing, heart easing, if just for the moment. They didn't speak for a while.
"Kenken…" Yohji called softly, not wanting to shatter the small piece of tranquility they had found.
"Hmm…?"
"You would never have to worry about silk sheets if you're with me."
"What?"
"I won't ever let you cry…"
They stood quietly for a while longer. Yohji bit his lip, wondering what Ken was thinking. Two tender words finally broke the silence…
"Thank you."
Yohji smiled, but had to blink back the bitter tears threatening to form in his eyes. It would appear that Ken had taken, had chosen to take his words as a gesture of friendship. Part of him - the part that had regretted uttering those words once they had left his mouth - sighed in relief. The other part of him wanted to kiss the brunette breathless, and prove to him without any doubt what he really meant.
But he couldn't do it. Couldn't let himself do it, for fear of adding to Ken's turmoil.
Running his hands down the brunette's back, Yohji squeezed him tight one last time before stepping back, reluctantly ending the embrace. Taking Ken's hands in his, he noticed how stiff the fingers were. "You're freezing your fingers off." He grumbled. "Why do you always forget your gloves?"
Ken watched solemnly as his teammate tore off the leather gloves and slipped them over his hands. They were too big for him, and his fingers looked funny. But at least they were warm now. Yohji always shared his warmth with him. Ken never did have to ask.
"Come on. Let's go back home ne?" Yohji ruffled Ken's dark hair and smiled as Ken nodded. Walking over to the bench, he tucked the forgotten sheets under his arm and strode off, the brunette by his side.
They walked in silent companionship, listening to the crisp crunching of snow under their boots. There was nothing else to listen to anyway. Everything else seemed to be dead.
"Yohji?"
"Yeah."
"You didn't have to do that you know."
"Do what?"
He glanced at the brunette, noting the adorable chewing of his lower lip, noting the contemplative look on his face. He smiled indulgently, waiting for Ken to continue.
"You didn't have to kiss me to make me feel better…". A slight hesitation. "Thank you."
Yohji's smile faded as he faced front once more. "Anytime Ken."
He really meant it, just in more ways than Ken realised. He would love to hold the brunette at anytime, keep him safe at anytime, kiss him at anytime.
If only Ken knew.
'You're wrong again Ken. I did it for me too."
_____________
to be continued
_____________
* The person who tied the bell would have to be the person to untie it - This is a Chinese saying. It basically means that the person who caused the problem would have to be the one to solve it. Or simply, you have to go to the root of the problem.
Please leave me a note before you go? It helps to know that it's worthwhile struggling to find time to continue this.
Thank you.
