Nuah. Sorry for the lack of updates minna. My editor fell off the face
of the earth. I'm very frightened. Thanks to all you who reviewed that
short I did a while back. I love you * blows kisses*
Getting to business.
Shaynie- Ahhh..you have discovered my weakness. My inherent need for creating bad guys. ^ ^ I don't know, I just felt like making him evil. Well honestly, it just worked for the plot I had in mind. But I'm glad you asked, I like to hear questions. As for the whole branching off thing...well, you'll just have to keep reading to see =P
Thank you to Jo, Nekojita and Tmelange for being the wonderful people that you are, and always reviewing my work. I always look forward to your reviews, you always keep me going. I can't tell you how much it means to me. Really, there's not a lot more I can say about it
Hollow -aw, what the heck, I love you anyway. Just talk to me babe! Andariel -thanks so much for the nice review. Yes, I'm certainly continuing this. Will you keep reviewing?
So anyway, here it is folks. The 6th chapter. Enjoy. ^ ^
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"Brrrrr Aya, how can you stand to sit in here?" Man in question lowered his newspaper just enough so that the teenager could see his arched eyebrow. "Is something wrong?"
The blonde boy grinned. "Nah, just thought you might want some company, that's all. And since you're here, in the living room, instead of holing yourself up in your room, I assumed you wouldn't get mad." The boy tottered off into the adjoined room, and moments later, Aya heard the clack of their old heater.
"Hn." A scowl would hardly be worth the effort. Instead, he sunk back into the cushions of the velvet armchair. There was no use in trying to read the paper. His mind was somewhere else. He ran his fingers over the soft material of the chair, wondering detachedly why it felt prickly when he went against its natural flow.
It was a cold night. The rain had let up two hours ago only to start up again within the half-hour. Now it came down in buckets, drenching all those who ventured out into the streets. Ah yes, the attractive weather patterns of Tokyo, tourist capital of Japan. The capital of Japan. And what did those gaijin fools see in it anyway?
"Cocoa, Aya?" His eyes blinked at a mug proffered directly in front of his face. With a sigh, the teen set it down on the coffee-table, before curling up on the coach to read a book. Aya would have smiled, and he still had the heart. But he didn't. He was an assassin. So instead he looked away, out the window.
Grey sky, grey buildings, grey rain. Tokyo was a city stuck in greyscale, its people dead and unfeeling, moving through the rain like robots, their faces blank and lifeless.
Aya-chan had always held some fondness for the rain. He could recall taking walks with her to the temple in wet weather. She had sung for him, and he had laughed as they made their way down the path, clinging together huddled beneath her 'hello-kitty' umbrella. He couldn't imagine how ridiculous they must have looked -in their finest kimonos, giggling beneath the pink plastic shelter that was probably small for even one of them alone.
"Niiiichan?" "What is it Aya?" "Don't you just love the rain!" "No. Not really." "Hmph....why not?" "Saa. It's ...wet. Feels lonely, I suppose." "But look how it washes all the dirt and the grime away! Everything starts all over again, clean and fresh and full of life..."
Rain in a world without Aya-chan was not full of life. It was grey, and everything else around him turned grey because of her absence.
"Did you ever catch up with Manx?" Omi's soft unchanged alto startled him from his memories.
"That bitch." He snarled without thinking. Omi giggled.
"An answer like that doesn't tell me much Aya-kun!" Omi smiled slyly at him.
"Answer like what? Bitch?" Ken's boisterous voice caused both of them to jump. The blonde grinned up at the newcomer.
"I'm trying to find out of Aya ever caught up with Manx and dragged a couple answers out of her."
"Oh." The soccer player planted himself on the couch -just bare inches away from Omi. "That." His gaze switched to Aya. "So did you?"
He shook his head. "No."
"Ah. Fuck."
Fuck indeed. That echoed Aya's own thoughts. He had questions, and he wanted them answered. Right away. But no, Kritiker felt like playing games with them. As they always did. Now it was always no questions asked, take it or leave it with Kritker. Weiss bowed to their every wish. Always accepting, never really having the choice not to. They were being used. Like a child prostitute to the pimps they so often killed. Forced to do things they never would, had their lives not been taken from them. Some people deserved death, certainly all the ones Weiss targeted did. But it did not mean that they were the ones who wished to bring it. Besides. Aya still wondered if being a banker would pay close to the same. Without the threats to his life. Without the deleted records and long forgotten pasts. But.....with his sister. Or.....could Weiss ever make-up for his lost family? No. He couldn't have a family. He was an assassin. ....so why was it that he kept forgetting?
"......don't swear Ken-ken."
"Aya just did! And hey! Don't you Kenken me you brat."
"Stop me."
"I just might have to....."
By now the warmth resonating from the heater in the other room was finally making some difference. Aya lidded his eyes, and basked in the heat. It was pleasant. Something he should not indulge in. Warmth had no place in his life. He opened his eyes and stared briefly at the swirling stucco masses on the ceiling. Maybe it wasn't too late to pay Aya-chan a visit.... The hospital always felt cold to him.
Aya jerked suddenly with the harsh noise of their doorbell assaulted his ears. He looked to Omi and Ken, who already were alert. A surprised and cautious silence fell over the room.
"At our back door? Who the hell could that be at this time of night?" Ken's whisper was aimed at him.
"I don't know."
"Should I get it?" Omi cocked his head to the side to regard Aya carefully. At his nod, the boy stood and shuffled to the door. "There's no sense in avoiding them, who ever it is. It might be Manx or Birman."
"Don't they usually use the front?"
"Usually. Not always."
"You think we're being too paranoid?" Ken asked.
Aya shrugged his shoulders. "One can never be too careful."
Ken got up to follow Omi to the door, but Aya gave a discreet shake of the head. If their visitors weren't friendly, it would not be wise to arise suspicions from the get-go. Having three able bodied young men greeting the door would certainly seem strange to him. He bit into his lip. His mind felt like it was on autopilot. Whizzing over a hundred different things without ever really stopping to give any thought its full concentration. His body strangely tense. Ready to spring at any moment. Or to pop. All this over the simple matter of a 'tringing' doorbell. There once was a time where he hadn't had to worry about answering a door. There had once been a time when he had been so sheltered that he wouldn't have dreamt there would be a time that he would have to worry about it. He realized with a twinge that he had never appreciated that before. Not that it mattered. Abyssinian had no time to appreciate things in past or present. It was Abyssinian now that pressed his fingers to his forehead, trying to regain his focus as Aya was shoved to the background. Whom could they expect? Schwarz? There hadn't been any trouble from the Black for a good two months now. Perhaps it would make sense then. Who else? None came to mind. Across the room, Siberian lay sprawled over the couch. It may have looked like a relaxed position to anyone else. But Aya could see that those hands twitched. Ready for something. For anything. To kill? In their own home? What were they becoming?
Aya sucked in his breath as he heard the latch of the door being undone. Ken did the same.
A sharp gasp from the other side of the wall had both men on the feet and at the door at an instant. Ken automatically leapt for Omi, in a surge of natural protectiveness. Aya was on his feet, and next to the pair in a second. But it was needless.
"Youji-kun!"
Omi's voice broke on a high note. A slender hand flew to his mouth.
"Hey guys..." A familiar tenor drawl, but small and thin. "Howzit goin'?"
Aya's breath caught in his throat.
Youji.
What happened?
A line of mottled purple ran up the brunette's jaw, and blood trickled from a split lip. He wore an expensive suit -stained silt, and ripped in the sleeves and torn at the knees. The tall man leaned heavily on the doorframe, shuddering lightly. Blood mingled with the rainwater, and it fell in opaque pink drops to the porch. Suddenly, he lurched forwards, and Aya's arms were around him without thought.
"Couldn't take Seven, took Subway..." He could feel Youji's lips mumbling into his chest. And despite all that raged on around him, the world seemed to freeze for Aya, a strange tickling sensation seemed to creep up his spine and slither its way down to his heart. Youji was close. Too close. Not close enough. Hurt....Youji was hurt...
"Stopped closer to your guys' pad. Wondered if I could borrow your first aid kit...."
"Youji!" Ken finally gasped out. "What the hell happened? Are you drunk?"
The brunette opened his mouth, but Aya had already answered for him. "He's not. He's completely and utterly sober." Of this, he was certain. There was no bitter scent to the man's breath.
"Aa...." Youji rasped out, and flashed his two younger teammates a crooked grin -one that did not reach to his eyes. "Though I wish it was otherwise. Shiiiit."
Aya pressed the slim body closer to his own when he felt it begin to tremor. Youji smelt of rain and blood. Not alcohol and sex. Why...and why not? He could think of no logical answer to his question. But that was off secondary importance at the moment.
"Omi, go prepare something to treat him." His voice was cold and strong, but inside he felt like he was crumbling. Abyssinian...who was always strong. He felt deserted. "Ken, go with him. I'll get Youji upstairs to the bathroom."
With two nods, the younger half of Weiss bounded away. In his arms, Youji laughed weakly. "Shit, it's not like I'm dying or nothin' Aya. Don't sound so serious."
"Shut up." Aya growled, and hoisted the entirety of Youji's weight into his arms, and began the trek to the upstairs bathroom.
"I can walk too, you idiot." Youji mumbled into the crook of his neck. Aya tensed at the sensation it caused, and nearly stumbled. "See...yah' can't hold me." Youji's voice was soft and scratchy, but it still retained its dignity. "So why doncha' just...." "I said shut up Youji." Regaining his balance, Aya shifted the taller man in his arms and conquered the last of the creaking stairs.
When they at last reached their destination, Aya eased his teammate into a sitting position on the floor. How strange the older man looked, slender and bleeding all over the pristine white bathroom tile. It was a sight they had oft seen before, and a position all of them had been in. But this time it felt different. This time....they hadn't been there.
"What happened?" Aya bit out, more harshly than he had intended.
"Huuuuh?" Youji blinked up at him.
"This. Who did this to you?" His gaze held steady on Youji's glazed emerald eyes, but it had no avail. Why did those green eyes seem so distant?
"Tcccch." Youji's head slumped to the side. "Can't say."
"What do you mean, you can't say?" Aya's hands were already at work, pulling off the suit coat as delicately as deftly as he could. A hiss from Youji warned him that he was not being delicate enough. He frowned at the disheveled playboy, who no longer even tried to smile at him. "Ach, careful...one of em' had a knife..." "One of whom Youji?" The suit jacket came free, and he looked at its label quizzically. An armani.... Youji didn't wear armanis voluntarily. And after dishing out the money for the suit, he wouldn't just have let it get ruined in a street fight. Youji couldn't have walked into a brawl just like that. Could he have?
"...not tellin'." Youji slumped against the porcelain side of the bathtub, laughing fitfully when he clunked his head on its hard surface. "Owwww."
"Youji..."
"...yah?" The brunette's hair spilled into the bathtub, matted with rain, sweat and his own gooey life source. Aya's attention was focused elsewhere.
"Why not?"
"Coz!" Youji drawled slowly. The brunette's eyes rolled to the top of his head, and Aya shook him violently, forgetting those injuries.
"Stop that, right now!"
"Nnnn. All right Aya, if you say so."
There was a tentative knock at the door, but it burst open just short seconds afterwards anyway. Ken shoved his way inside, and Omi followed behind him, subdued.
"What the hell happened Youji?" The team's younger brunette growled.
"He won't say."
Ken looked at Aya in surprise. "What? Why not?"
Aya shrugged.
"Honestly Ken-kun, there's more important things to do! Now the bathroom is crowded already, so unless your going to help get out!" Omi's eyes flashed with worry, and he kneeled down on the ground beside Youji.
"All right. But he ain't gonna get away that easy..." Ken slunk out the door.
Omi sighed, and extracted a roll of bandages and solvent from his medical kit. He set them down carefully on the bathroom floor. "You too, Aya."
"I'll help."
Omi looked at him in confusion. "What, are you sure Aya? Whoever did this to Youji hurt him a lot, but it isn't life threatening. It's not too big a job for me to finish on my own."
"I'll help."
The two of them set to work quickly, laying aside the rest of Youji's clothes, and tending to his wounds -the extent of which surprised even the lanky playboy himself. Scattered around his body were light cuts, and dark mottling bruises. The worst injury he had sustained was a gigantic lump to the back of his head. It was exactly as both Omi and Youji had said. Nothing life threatening. But serious enough that Aya was perturbed. The blows were all over his body, it was true -but, upon turning him over, they had found Youji had sustained the most injuries on his back.
Had he been jumped from behind? If so, why? That would mean either that it hadn't been Youji to pick the fight, or that someone else had had the upper hand. The former thought concerned Aya more than any other. But if that wasn't so, what then? Some gang jumped him for his money? Maybe. But then, why would Youji be so reluctant to tell them, his team? Pride?.....Could be, but for some reason, Aya doubted that that was the reason for the brawl at all. Youji could surely take on a gang of steet thugs. So, maybe his attackers were trained? That seemed more reasonable -often, it seemed that the hits had been concentrated in the same area -something impossible if Youji had been fighting on his feet. To get Youji *off* his feet would take a fair bit of work, and Aya was sure that it was beyond the work of street kids to do. But then....?
When at last all the work had been done, and Youji lay struggling to keep awake, Aya bid Omi to return to bed, with a quick word of thanks. The blond gave him a tired smile. "You'll take care of him then?"
He nodded.
"Then thank you Aya." Omi rubbed at his eyes. "See you in the morning." A quick rinse of his hands, and the teen was off.
They were alone again.
Aya stooped over, and scooped his slender teammate into his arms once more -all together too aware of the absence of his shirt.
"Ari..gatou, Aya." Youji's soft tenor sighed, and his body squirmed against Aya's. "...can go home now..."
Aya looked at him incredulously.
"Put me down...I'll walk. Not so far."
Aya refused to even respond to the statement. He traveled the length of the hallway with the warm weight of his older teammate against his own.
"A-ya...." Youji's wiry arms wrapped around his neck, perhaps without even a thought from their master. He was afraid of being dropped. "lemme go..."
"No, Youji." Aya growled, and kicked the door to his room open. He made his way to the bed, where he deposited the exhausted man. "You're staying here tonight. And you will tell me who did this to you, and why."
Aya frowned as something crept into his team-mates eyes then....that soft hair flung about his face, as Youji shook his head wildly and tried to get up. "No!" His voice was clear now, and he seemed more awake. "No, no and no!"
Aya pushed him down again easily, and this time, pulled the grey covers up over his teammate's chin. Something was not right. No, something was drastically wrong. But, he could tell already, that, whatever had happened, he would not be able to wheedle the answer from the brunette.
"Sleep then."
"....don't hafta..do this Aya."
Aya let his gaze wander over that ghostlike face. Youji's soft pink lips trembled, perhaps with cold...his eyelashes fluttered open and closed, battling a loosing war against sleep. That jaw was marred purple, green and yellow. Yet...even still, Youji was....Youji was.....
"Consider it reimbursement." He responded, without thinking.
"H-ho Aya?" Youji smiled faintly. "You remember that? Seems like ages ago now..."
"Youji..no baka." Aya lidded his eyes. Of course he remembered. It was his first week with Weiss -and already he'd gotten in some argument with Siberian. The cause of that bout was long forgotten and forgiven...but the aftermath... Never. The way that Youji had picked him up -so delicately, as if he were afraid that he might break. Somehow, he had managed to drag his barely conscious self to his own room.
The room Youji had moved out of months ago.
Aya had lay tossing and turning all night in that bed -Youji's bed -while the man himself sat quietly by his side until it had all passed. Then, he had been named. And when Youji finally drifted to sleep, slumped awkwardly in that chair, Aya had mused over that name, and his new teammate until the sun came up, and his second real day in the shop had started.
"Yeah." Youji agreed with him at length, his voice far away, and small. "I know." With that, the brunette shifted painfully to the side, and buried himself in the soft covers.
"Youji..." Aya began, but the man in question was already gone, drifting on the ocean of sleep. He had to have been very tired. Slowly, tentatively, he leaned forward, closer to the bed. His fingers stroked those chestnut tresses softly.
The hell did he think he was doing? Youji was unconscious. Youji was off limits. Youji was straight. Youji was an idiot. What the hell was he doing? Ach, for fuck's sake, Aya didn't care.
The rebellious fingers slid over that marred face, contorted with pain, even in sleep. Maybe...his only chance. Youji's skin was silky smooth, even in this condition. Aya started guiltily, and checked to make sure the door was locked. Aya, what do you think you're.... Cautiously, he pulled the covers back, and slipped in bed beside the older man. After a moment's hesitation, he lifted the slender frame of the assassin, so he could wrap his arms around him. Youji did not even so much as mumble in his sleep. Tenderly, Aya pulled the cover back up over Youji's shoulder. He was warmer now, and he could feel the heat radiating from his flesh. He turned his head to face the slumbering figure.
"Youji.....what the hell happened?" He whispered to the man curled across from him in his own grey comforters. He then recalled the light which had came to the taller assassin's eyes when he asked the question to his face.
"...and why the hell are you....scared?"
He was acutely aware of every place they touched -clothes or none. The slightest feeling of sadness touched him -he was now where he had wanted to be, in bed alongside a complacent Youji. Yet the other man would never know. And in his heart, there was the sinking feeling, that there would never be such a moment again. What was this feeling? Why did it make him feel so empty...and yet full at the same time. Full of something...and ready to burst. Sighing, he pressed himself closer to the warming body and vowed to stay awake - holding to every sweet and fleeting second dear in his mind for years to come.
Love, hate? Tell me! Soulstrife@hotmail.com
Getting to business.
Shaynie- Ahhh..you have discovered my weakness. My inherent need for creating bad guys. ^ ^ I don't know, I just felt like making him evil. Well honestly, it just worked for the plot I had in mind. But I'm glad you asked, I like to hear questions. As for the whole branching off thing...well, you'll just have to keep reading to see =P
Thank you to Jo, Nekojita and Tmelange for being the wonderful people that you are, and always reviewing my work. I always look forward to your reviews, you always keep me going. I can't tell you how much it means to me. Really, there's not a lot more I can say about it
Hollow -aw, what the heck, I love you anyway. Just talk to me babe! Andariel -thanks so much for the nice review. Yes, I'm certainly continuing this. Will you keep reviewing?
So anyway, here it is folks. The 6th chapter. Enjoy. ^ ^
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"Brrrrr Aya, how can you stand to sit in here?" Man in question lowered his newspaper just enough so that the teenager could see his arched eyebrow. "Is something wrong?"
The blonde boy grinned. "Nah, just thought you might want some company, that's all. And since you're here, in the living room, instead of holing yourself up in your room, I assumed you wouldn't get mad." The boy tottered off into the adjoined room, and moments later, Aya heard the clack of their old heater.
"Hn." A scowl would hardly be worth the effort. Instead, he sunk back into the cushions of the velvet armchair. There was no use in trying to read the paper. His mind was somewhere else. He ran his fingers over the soft material of the chair, wondering detachedly why it felt prickly when he went against its natural flow.
It was a cold night. The rain had let up two hours ago only to start up again within the half-hour. Now it came down in buckets, drenching all those who ventured out into the streets. Ah yes, the attractive weather patterns of Tokyo, tourist capital of Japan. The capital of Japan. And what did those gaijin fools see in it anyway?
"Cocoa, Aya?" His eyes blinked at a mug proffered directly in front of his face. With a sigh, the teen set it down on the coffee-table, before curling up on the coach to read a book. Aya would have smiled, and he still had the heart. But he didn't. He was an assassin. So instead he looked away, out the window.
Grey sky, grey buildings, grey rain. Tokyo was a city stuck in greyscale, its people dead and unfeeling, moving through the rain like robots, their faces blank and lifeless.
Aya-chan had always held some fondness for the rain. He could recall taking walks with her to the temple in wet weather. She had sung for him, and he had laughed as they made their way down the path, clinging together huddled beneath her 'hello-kitty' umbrella. He couldn't imagine how ridiculous they must have looked -in their finest kimonos, giggling beneath the pink plastic shelter that was probably small for even one of them alone.
"Niiiichan?" "What is it Aya?" "Don't you just love the rain!" "No. Not really." "Hmph....why not?" "Saa. It's ...wet. Feels lonely, I suppose." "But look how it washes all the dirt and the grime away! Everything starts all over again, clean and fresh and full of life..."
Rain in a world without Aya-chan was not full of life. It was grey, and everything else around him turned grey because of her absence.
"Did you ever catch up with Manx?" Omi's soft unchanged alto startled him from his memories.
"That bitch." He snarled without thinking. Omi giggled.
"An answer like that doesn't tell me much Aya-kun!" Omi smiled slyly at him.
"Answer like what? Bitch?" Ken's boisterous voice caused both of them to jump. The blonde grinned up at the newcomer.
"I'm trying to find out of Aya ever caught up with Manx and dragged a couple answers out of her."
"Oh." The soccer player planted himself on the couch -just bare inches away from Omi. "That." His gaze switched to Aya. "So did you?"
He shook his head. "No."
"Ah. Fuck."
Fuck indeed. That echoed Aya's own thoughts. He had questions, and he wanted them answered. Right away. But no, Kritiker felt like playing games with them. As they always did. Now it was always no questions asked, take it or leave it with Kritker. Weiss bowed to their every wish. Always accepting, never really having the choice not to. They were being used. Like a child prostitute to the pimps they so often killed. Forced to do things they never would, had their lives not been taken from them. Some people deserved death, certainly all the ones Weiss targeted did. But it did not mean that they were the ones who wished to bring it. Besides. Aya still wondered if being a banker would pay close to the same. Without the threats to his life. Without the deleted records and long forgotten pasts. But.....with his sister. Or.....could Weiss ever make-up for his lost family? No. He couldn't have a family. He was an assassin. ....so why was it that he kept forgetting?
"......don't swear Ken-ken."
"Aya just did! And hey! Don't you Kenken me you brat."
"Stop me."
"I just might have to....."
By now the warmth resonating from the heater in the other room was finally making some difference. Aya lidded his eyes, and basked in the heat. It was pleasant. Something he should not indulge in. Warmth had no place in his life. He opened his eyes and stared briefly at the swirling stucco masses on the ceiling. Maybe it wasn't too late to pay Aya-chan a visit.... The hospital always felt cold to him.
Aya jerked suddenly with the harsh noise of their doorbell assaulted his ears. He looked to Omi and Ken, who already were alert. A surprised and cautious silence fell over the room.
"At our back door? Who the hell could that be at this time of night?" Ken's whisper was aimed at him.
"I don't know."
"Should I get it?" Omi cocked his head to the side to regard Aya carefully. At his nod, the boy stood and shuffled to the door. "There's no sense in avoiding them, who ever it is. It might be Manx or Birman."
"Don't they usually use the front?"
"Usually. Not always."
"You think we're being too paranoid?" Ken asked.
Aya shrugged his shoulders. "One can never be too careful."
Ken got up to follow Omi to the door, but Aya gave a discreet shake of the head. If their visitors weren't friendly, it would not be wise to arise suspicions from the get-go. Having three able bodied young men greeting the door would certainly seem strange to him. He bit into his lip. His mind felt like it was on autopilot. Whizzing over a hundred different things without ever really stopping to give any thought its full concentration. His body strangely tense. Ready to spring at any moment. Or to pop. All this over the simple matter of a 'tringing' doorbell. There once was a time where he hadn't had to worry about answering a door. There had once been a time when he had been so sheltered that he wouldn't have dreamt there would be a time that he would have to worry about it. He realized with a twinge that he had never appreciated that before. Not that it mattered. Abyssinian had no time to appreciate things in past or present. It was Abyssinian now that pressed his fingers to his forehead, trying to regain his focus as Aya was shoved to the background. Whom could they expect? Schwarz? There hadn't been any trouble from the Black for a good two months now. Perhaps it would make sense then. Who else? None came to mind. Across the room, Siberian lay sprawled over the couch. It may have looked like a relaxed position to anyone else. But Aya could see that those hands twitched. Ready for something. For anything. To kill? In their own home? What were they becoming?
Aya sucked in his breath as he heard the latch of the door being undone. Ken did the same.
A sharp gasp from the other side of the wall had both men on the feet and at the door at an instant. Ken automatically leapt for Omi, in a surge of natural protectiveness. Aya was on his feet, and next to the pair in a second. But it was needless.
"Youji-kun!"
Omi's voice broke on a high note. A slender hand flew to his mouth.
"Hey guys..." A familiar tenor drawl, but small and thin. "Howzit goin'?"
Aya's breath caught in his throat.
Youji.
What happened?
A line of mottled purple ran up the brunette's jaw, and blood trickled from a split lip. He wore an expensive suit -stained silt, and ripped in the sleeves and torn at the knees. The tall man leaned heavily on the doorframe, shuddering lightly. Blood mingled with the rainwater, and it fell in opaque pink drops to the porch. Suddenly, he lurched forwards, and Aya's arms were around him without thought.
"Couldn't take Seven, took Subway..." He could feel Youji's lips mumbling into his chest. And despite all that raged on around him, the world seemed to freeze for Aya, a strange tickling sensation seemed to creep up his spine and slither its way down to his heart. Youji was close. Too close. Not close enough. Hurt....Youji was hurt...
"Stopped closer to your guys' pad. Wondered if I could borrow your first aid kit...."
"Youji!" Ken finally gasped out. "What the hell happened? Are you drunk?"
The brunette opened his mouth, but Aya had already answered for him. "He's not. He's completely and utterly sober." Of this, he was certain. There was no bitter scent to the man's breath.
"Aa...." Youji rasped out, and flashed his two younger teammates a crooked grin -one that did not reach to his eyes. "Though I wish it was otherwise. Shiiiit."
Aya pressed the slim body closer to his own when he felt it begin to tremor. Youji smelt of rain and blood. Not alcohol and sex. Why...and why not? He could think of no logical answer to his question. But that was off secondary importance at the moment.
"Omi, go prepare something to treat him." His voice was cold and strong, but inside he felt like he was crumbling. Abyssinian...who was always strong. He felt deserted. "Ken, go with him. I'll get Youji upstairs to the bathroom."
With two nods, the younger half of Weiss bounded away. In his arms, Youji laughed weakly. "Shit, it's not like I'm dying or nothin' Aya. Don't sound so serious."
"Shut up." Aya growled, and hoisted the entirety of Youji's weight into his arms, and began the trek to the upstairs bathroom.
"I can walk too, you idiot." Youji mumbled into the crook of his neck. Aya tensed at the sensation it caused, and nearly stumbled. "See...yah' can't hold me." Youji's voice was soft and scratchy, but it still retained its dignity. "So why doncha' just...." "I said shut up Youji." Regaining his balance, Aya shifted the taller man in his arms and conquered the last of the creaking stairs.
When they at last reached their destination, Aya eased his teammate into a sitting position on the floor. How strange the older man looked, slender and bleeding all over the pristine white bathroom tile. It was a sight they had oft seen before, and a position all of them had been in. But this time it felt different. This time....they hadn't been there.
"What happened?" Aya bit out, more harshly than he had intended.
"Huuuuh?" Youji blinked up at him.
"This. Who did this to you?" His gaze held steady on Youji's glazed emerald eyes, but it had no avail. Why did those green eyes seem so distant?
"Tcccch." Youji's head slumped to the side. "Can't say."
"What do you mean, you can't say?" Aya's hands were already at work, pulling off the suit coat as delicately as deftly as he could. A hiss from Youji warned him that he was not being delicate enough. He frowned at the disheveled playboy, who no longer even tried to smile at him. "Ach, careful...one of em' had a knife..." "One of whom Youji?" The suit jacket came free, and he looked at its label quizzically. An armani.... Youji didn't wear armanis voluntarily. And after dishing out the money for the suit, he wouldn't just have let it get ruined in a street fight. Youji couldn't have walked into a brawl just like that. Could he have?
"...not tellin'." Youji slumped against the porcelain side of the bathtub, laughing fitfully when he clunked his head on its hard surface. "Owwww."
"Youji..."
"...yah?" The brunette's hair spilled into the bathtub, matted with rain, sweat and his own gooey life source. Aya's attention was focused elsewhere.
"Why not?"
"Coz!" Youji drawled slowly. The brunette's eyes rolled to the top of his head, and Aya shook him violently, forgetting those injuries.
"Stop that, right now!"
"Nnnn. All right Aya, if you say so."
There was a tentative knock at the door, but it burst open just short seconds afterwards anyway. Ken shoved his way inside, and Omi followed behind him, subdued.
"What the hell happened Youji?" The team's younger brunette growled.
"He won't say."
Ken looked at Aya in surprise. "What? Why not?"
Aya shrugged.
"Honestly Ken-kun, there's more important things to do! Now the bathroom is crowded already, so unless your going to help get out!" Omi's eyes flashed with worry, and he kneeled down on the ground beside Youji.
"All right. But he ain't gonna get away that easy..." Ken slunk out the door.
Omi sighed, and extracted a roll of bandages and solvent from his medical kit. He set them down carefully on the bathroom floor. "You too, Aya."
"I'll help."
Omi looked at him in confusion. "What, are you sure Aya? Whoever did this to Youji hurt him a lot, but it isn't life threatening. It's not too big a job for me to finish on my own."
"I'll help."
The two of them set to work quickly, laying aside the rest of Youji's clothes, and tending to his wounds -the extent of which surprised even the lanky playboy himself. Scattered around his body were light cuts, and dark mottling bruises. The worst injury he had sustained was a gigantic lump to the back of his head. It was exactly as both Omi and Youji had said. Nothing life threatening. But serious enough that Aya was perturbed. The blows were all over his body, it was true -but, upon turning him over, they had found Youji had sustained the most injuries on his back.
Had he been jumped from behind? If so, why? That would mean either that it hadn't been Youji to pick the fight, or that someone else had had the upper hand. The former thought concerned Aya more than any other. But if that wasn't so, what then? Some gang jumped him for his money? Maybe. But then, why would Youji be so reluctant to tell them, his team? Pride?.....Could be, but for some reason, Aya doubted that that was the reason for the brawl at all. Youji could surely take on a gang of steet thugs. So, maybe his attackers were trained? That seemed more reasonable -often, it seemed that the hits had been concentrated in the same area -something impossible if Youji had been fighting on his feet. To get Youji *off* his feet would take a fair bit of work, and Aya was sure that it was beyond the work of street kids to do. But then....?
When at last all the work had been done, and Youji lay struggling to keep awake, Aya bid Omi to return to bed, with a quick word of thanks. The blond gave him a tired smile. "You'll take care of him then?"
He nodded.
"Then thank you Aya." Omi rubbed at his eyes. "See you in the morning." A quick rinse of his hands, and the teen was off.
They were alone again.
Aya stooped over, and scooped his slender teammate into his arms once more -all together too aware of the absence of his shirt.
"Ari..gatou, Aya." Youji's soft tenor sighed, and his body squirmed against Aya's. "...can go home now..."
Aya looked at him incredulously.
"Put me down...I'll walk. Not so far."
Aya refused to even respond to the statement. He traveled the length of the hallway with the warm weight of his older teammate against his own.
"A-ya...." Youji's wiry arms wrapped around his neck, perhaps without even a thought from their master. He was afraid of being dropped. "lemme go..."
"No, Youji." Aya growled, and kicked the door to his room open. He made his way to the bed, where he deposited the exhausted man. "You're staying here tonight. And you will tell me who did this to you, and why."
Aya frowned as something crept into his team-mates eyes then....that soft hair flung about his face, as Youji shook his head wildly and tried to get up. "No!" His voice was clear now, and he seemed more awake. "No, no and no!"
Aya pushed him down again easily, and this time, pulled the grey covers up over his teammate's chin. Something was not right. No, something was drastically wrong. But, he could tell already, that, whatever had happened, he would not be able to wheedle the answer from the brunette.
"Sleep then."
"....don't hafta..do this Aya."
Aya let his gaze wander over that ghostlike face. Youji's soft pink lips trembled, perhaps with cold...his eyelashes fluttered open and closed, battling a loosing war against sleep. That jaw was marred purple, green and yellow. Yet...even still, Youji was....Youji was.....
"Consider it reimbursement." He responded, without thinking.
"H-ho Aya?" Youji smiled faintly. "You remember that? Seems like ages ago now..."
"Youji..no baka." Aya lidded his eyes. Of course he remembered. It was his first week with Weiss -and already he'd gotten in some argument with Siberian. The cause of that bout was long forgotten and forgiven...but the aftermath... Never. The way that Youji had picked him up -so delicately, as if he were afraid that he might break. Somehow, he had managed to drag his barely conscious self to his own room.
The room Youji had moved out of months ago.
Aya had lay tossing and turning all night in that bed -Youji's bed -while the man himself sat quietly by his side until it had all passed. Then, he had been named. And when Youji finally drifted to sleep, slumped awkwardly in that chair, Aya had mused over that name, and his new teammate until the sun came up, and his second real day in the shop had started.
"Yeah." Youji agreed with him at length, his voice far away, and small. "I know." With that, the brunette shifted painfully to the side, and buried himself in the soft covers.
"Youji..." Aya began, but the man in question was already gone, drifting on the ocean of sleep. He had to have been very tired. Slowly, tentatively, he leaned forward, closer to the bed. His fingers stroked those chestnut tresses softly.
The hell did he think he was doing? Youji was unconscious. Youji was off limits. Youji was straight. Youji was an idiot. What the hell was he doing? Ach, for fuck's sake, Aya didn't care.
The rebellious fingers slid over that marred face, contorted with pain, even in sleep. Maybe...his only chance. Youji's skin was silky smooth, even in this condition. Aya started guiltily, and checked to make sure the door was locked. Aya, what do you think you're.... Cautiously, he pulled the covers back, and slipped in bed beside the older man. After a moment's hesitation, he lifted the slender frame of the assassin, so he could wrap his arms around him. Youji did not even so much as mumble in his sleep. Tenderly, Aya pulled the cover back up over Youji's shoulder. He was warmer now, and he could feel the heat radiating from his flesh. He turned his head to face the slumbering figure.
"Youji.....what the hell happened?" He whispered to the man curled across from him in his own grey comforters. He then recalled the light which had came to the taller assassin's eyes when he asked the question to his face.
"...and why the hell are you....scared?"
He was acutely aware of every place they touched -clothes or none. The slightest feeling of sadness touched him -he was now where he had wanted to be, in bed alongside a complacent Youji. Yet the other man would never know. And in his heart, there was the sinking feeling, that there would never be such a moment again. What was this feeling? Why did it make him feel so empty...and yet full at the same time. Full of something...and ready to burst. Sighing, he pressed himself closer to the warming body and vowed to stay awake - holding to every sweet and fleeting second dear in his mind for years to come.
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