Disclaimer: I don't own Weiss. But you already knew that.
Warnings: swearing, faint shonen-ai implications
"I thought you said we were like your family," came the bitter voice. He turned around to look at the lanky spike-haired blonde in the doorway, trying desperately to filter out the hurt in that voice, on the lovely face.
"I have to go. You know that, Yoji-kun," he whispered, shutting his suitcase with a definitive click. He turned to face the wall again, and the pathetic airshaft window that graced his room. The biggest problem with Tokyo. There were so many buildings, there wasn't anywhere for windows to look. So he watched the brick of the wall across the narrow alley from his room, willing his eyes to become steel barriers against the tears stinging them.
"Why?" asked the other man angrily, slamming a fist against the wall. "Why do you have to just ditch us like this?"
I can't stand it anymore. All the guilt is eating me from within. I don't want anything more than to stay here and tell you everything, but if I have to keep killing, if I have to keep making myself more and more unworthy of anyone's love, I think I'll just wither away. Like a dead flower. The petals getting all brown and dry and stiff, then crumbling to dust and floating off, forgotten. Invisible.
"It's my duty." He said it without emotion, hands splayed over the canvas of his cheap suitcase, fingers pressing into it too hard. All his emotion had gone to his precious hands. The hands he used to kill others with.
"Bullshit! Your duty is to us, to your family. To the people you love like your brothers. Or have you forgotten it so easily?"
He closed his eyes. I'll never forget you. I'll try like hell to, but I know it won't work. In this moment of clarity, I know everything. I know you care about me like I care about you. I know that I love you as more than a friend, more than a brother. I know it, but I won't act on it. I can't. It would ruin me forever.
"You don't understand."
A hand closed around his arm, bruising force applied to his bicep. He was jerked around, face to face with the beautiful blonde, their eyes meeting and clashing with the force of tectonic plates meeting and grating off of each other, creating earthquakes all around. "You are Weiss! You can't walk out on us like this! Weiss is your family, not Kritiker! Not anyone else! It's not fair!"
He closed his eyes and turned his face away. "I'll miss my bus. You have to let go of me, Yoji. You have to let me go."
The hand left his arm, practically flinging him away, and the blonde stalked towards the exit.
"I should never have listened to your lies," Yoji hissed, giving him a final, furious look before going through the doorway.
As the door shut behind him, the quiet malice and hatred of the words made the other man sink slowly to his knees in front of the bed, in front of the suitcase, staring in mute detachment at the droplets of water hitting the blanket before him.
A minute stretched to eternity before he stood, wiped at his wet eyes, and hefted his luggage. He had to go on with his life. Kritiker was his new life, now. Weiss was… somewhere else. His past. He had started over before. He could do it again. With slow, decisive strides, he walked out, outside, to the street, to the bus stop.
Omi would go on. It was his only choice.
A/N: I realize this could be seen as a prequel to Gluhen, but it's NOT. It's a prequel to Zerschlug, my other multi-chapter fic. It's an explanation for the tension between Omi and Yoji during that…. Also I felt like writing angst….