Air.
By heechan.
Yohji laughed and kissed Aya again, pulling the redhead into his room and slamming the door.
"Our break ended ten minutes ago," Aya muttered, half under his breath. This fact was merely an observation and had no bearing on his intended course of action.
"Aa, Aya..." Yohji half-laughed, half-sighed."You're so..."
"What?"
"...I don't know."
"Must be pretty bad, then," whispered Aya, kissing Yohji.
"Oh...trust me, it is." Aya's loose shirt clung to his chest. A damp rain was falling, the sound of it drifting in through the open window. A sigh, and "I knew you didn't really care..." as Yohji pulled Aya close to him, drawing them to his bed. They sank deeply into the mattress, as the heavy air swirled around them, smelling like flowers.
~
Starting, Yohji woke. The air, instead of being plesantly heavy and warm, was dry. He ran a hand through his sweat-dampened hair, which had grown longer and darker since that day.
"You were dreaming about him again, weren't you?" A heavily-accented voice, slithering over Yohji's skin like snakes to snap at his ears. "You always dream about him." Surprised and slightly angry at the intrusion, he passed his hand over his face again, wiping away sweat and bitter tears. His sweat made him cold in the dry air, slow, harsh currents ebbing and flowing like angry lovers.
"Why shouldn't I? And besides, what gives you the right to go poking around in my dreams?"
"What doesn't?" hissed the accent, turning into a soft purr. Which one of us is the cat now, Yohji thought, as a long hand found its way to cup the side of his face, and a long body shifted across him, forcing him to lie back down. But, Schuldig whispered softly into Yohji's mind, doesn't the cat always get the mouse?
~
The cat always catches the mouse, Yohji thought. If this is a trap, then I'm stuck, and I don't want to get out.
"Aya..." Yohji murmured to himself lazily, waking up a little. "Aya...."
"He was here again, wasn't he?" questioned a small, yet insistant and uncomfortably piercing voice by the foot of Yohji's large, rumpled bed. Yohji cracked open one eye.
"Ow..."
"Don't lie. I saw him," said Omi, voiding his own question. Must be gettin' careless, thought Yohji. But out loud, he replied,
"No, why would he be here?" He twisted the fabric of the sweater between his fingers, hiding it under the blankets.
"Yohji-kun!" Omi's eyes darted to the blankets. Yohji tried to tuck the sweater away, but he caught the flash of orange. "This is dangerous!" he yelled, stomping his small foot in some attempt at defiance in a world too big for him. "He's just filling a hole! Aya's hole! I miss him too, but you can't..." his voice slid higher, shaking. "You can't just..." The thin voice broke, and a dark patch appeared on Omi's sweater, soon joined by others as the small boy cried.
"Omi..." Yohji's voice rose threateningly. "Get OUT!" Omi turned then and ran out on shaking legs, tears running down his flushed face.
Yohji pulled the sweater out from under his blankets and buried his face in it, pressing his face deeply into the wool, leaving impressions on his cheeks.
--- [A/N] uh, yeah. anyway, blah blah Kyoko Tsuchiya blah blah send me money blah blah disclaimer blah. *cough* as I was saying, this is now Part One of a god-knows-how-many-part story. I wrote this a while ago and I'm slowly typing it up/making corrections/fixing characterization/editing out blatant suck. I'm still working on fleshing out good angst...yeah, it does exist, but I'm still working on it. Reviews of all kinds, even flames, welcome! *shivers* it's cold in here. I like oranges. :D
By heechan.
Yohji laughed and kissed Aya again, pulling the redhead into his room and slamming the door.
"Our break ended ten minutes ago," Aya muttered, half under his breath. This fact was merely an observation and had no bearing on his intended course of action.
"Aa, Aya..." Yohji half-laughed, half-sighed."You're so..."
"What?"
"...I don't know."
"Must be pretty bad, then," whispered Aya, kissing Yohji.
"Oh...trust me, it is." Aya's loose shirt clung to his chest. A damp rain was falling, the sound of it drifting in through the open window. A sigh, and "I knew you didn't really care..." as Yohji pulled Aya close to him, drawing them to his bed. They sank deeply into the mattress, as the heavy air swirled around them, smelling like flowers.
~
Starting, Yohji woke. The air, instead of being plesantly heavy and warm, was dry. He ran a hand through his sweat-dampened hair, which had grown longer and darker since that day.
"You were dreaming about him again, weren't you?" A heavily-accented voice, slithering over Yohji's skin like snakes to snap at his ears. "You always dream about him." Surprised and slightly angry at the intrusion, he passed his hand over his face again, wiping away sweat and bitter tears. His sweat made him cold in the dry air, slow, harsh currents ebbing and flowing like angry lovers.
"Why shouldn't I? And besides, what gives you the right to go poking around in my dreams?"
"What doesn't?" hissed the accent, turning into a soft purr. Which one of us is the cat now, Yohji thought, as a long hand found its way to cup the side of his face, and a long body shifted across him, forcing him to lie back down. But, Schuldig whispered softly into Yohji's mind, doesn't the cat always get the mouse?
~
The cat always catches the mouse, Yohji thought. If this is a trap, then I'm stuck, and I don't want to get out.
"Aya..." Yohji murmured to himself lazily, waking up a little. "Aya...."
"He was here again, wasn't he?" questioned a small, yet insistant and uncomfortably piercing voice by the foot of Yohji's large, rumpled bed. Yohji cracked open one eye.
"Ow..."
"Don't lie. I saw him," said Omi, voiding his own question. Must be gettin' careless, thought Yohji. But out loud, he replied,
"No, why would he be here?" He twisted the fabric of the sweater between his fingers, hiding it under the blankets.
"Yohji-kun!" Omi's eyes darted to the blankets. Yohji tried to tuck the sweater away, but he caught the flash of orange. "This is dangerous!" he yelled, stomping his small foot in some attempt at defiance in a world too big for him. "He's just filling a hole! Aya's hole! I miss him too, but you can't..." his voice slid higher, shaking. "You can't just..." The thin voice broke, and a dark patch appeared on Omi's sweater, soon joined by others as the small boy cried.
"Omi..." Yohji's voice rose threateningly. "Get OUT!" Omi turned then and ran out on shaking legs, tears running down his flushed face.
Yohji pulled the sweater out from under his blankets and buried his face in it, pressing his face deeply into the wool, leaving impressions on his cheeks.
--- [A/N] uh, yeah. anyway, blah blah Kyoko Tsuchiya blah blah send me money blah blah disclaimer blah. *cough* as I was saying, this is now Part One of a god-knows-how-many-part story. I wrote this a while ago and I'm slowly typing it up/making corrections/fixing characterization/editing out blatant suck. I'm still working on fleshing out good angst...yeah, it does exist, but I'm still working on it. Reviews of all kinds, even flames, welcome! *shivers* it's cold in here. I like oranges. :D
