Authors' notes:
Marty: Ne, Fei... I think maybe we should apologize for having this take so long.
Fei: *mutters* 17 hours...17 FREAKING hours....*shudders*
Marty: H-hai. *pats pats* Well... it was break so I had to go home to Alaska, and the time difference was 17 hours between Fei and I for a whole month! Actually I liked to think of it as being 7 hours earlier tomorrow... er... but that probably only makes sense to me... -_-;; So with all that time and Fei's busy schedule and my family and friends back home it just... took a long time.
Fei: *mutters some more* busy schedule...work...f*** s*** $#%^$&%!!!
Marty: *ignoring Fei's outburst* Especially since we couldn't get online very often and talk things over since the only times we could connect were either when it was really early in the morning for me and really late at night for Fei or really late at night for me and around dinner time for Fei... but she has a habit of working late and so…
Fei: *sighs* Yeah. Work bad. Bad work. So in short, due to the lack of time and the screwed up timing we took a longer time to update this chap. But time and time again - I have to stop saying "time" - when we felt like giving up, we took a look at our reviews, burst into tears, and kept on going. Cheesy I know, but so so true.
Marty: *raises an eyebrow* Yeeees....
Fei: *swats Marty*
Marty: Itai! *grumbles* Be nice!
Fei: *pouts* Anyways, we -have- to thank all our lovely reviewers. You guys are so great! Arigatou! *beams*
Marty: *nods nods* Hai! Nothing quite like heaps of unconditional praise *stares dreamily off into space* I'd like to thank all the little people....
Fei: *slaps hand over Marty's mouth* We'd like to thank all the following wonderful people *rolls out parchment* - Kami-chan, Rika-chan, Lola-chan, Lilas, Whisper-chan, Ku-chan, Moonraven, siberian, Eeyore, Naomi, Windy McDohl, Gnine, Jenny, Aya Eliya, Random Lurker, lupin, Carter, Jeshi, marsupial, Cece, fuzzish, Daystar Shade, Fuyukaze-Yuki, Karyx, chibi koneko, larisa, ember-fang, Keeshe, Jin, Kyri, misty, Lilla, and last but not least, Seph Lorraine.
Marty: *bats at Fei's hand* Bleh! *glares* Anyway thanks again guys! And feel free to leave more reviews on the way out *nudge nudge wink wink* And to all you lurkers... *evil fiery death glare of doom* I hex you. *smiles sweetly*
Fei: *sweatdrops* Er...yeah. Well, read on and enjoy...we hope. *drags Marty off to drool over LotR some more*
Disclaimer : Don't own anything. Not even our sanity. Lack of sleep took that away loooong ago…
Ink
Chapter Two
By Marty and Fei
The four members of Weiss were dumbstruck for a few moments by the man's audacity.
At the silence the young man by the door grinned charmingly and waited for a reaction. He didn't have to wait long.
"-If- you aren't going to buy anything…" Aya growled, stepping out from behind the counter and setting his pruning shears down with an audible click, "get out."
He hovered at the edge of the counter and glared at the man darkly.
The young man cocked his head and grinned again, showing a row of perfect, white teeth, a million dollar commercial smile, practiced to perfection. The grin wrinkled up his eyes in a way that he most likely thought was quite charming. "Now… I don't think I was talking to you. I was talking to Hidaka-san. At least I was trying to," he said pointedly, swiveling his gaze back to Youji who now stood with his arms crossed by his chair. "And I would like to continue to do so."
The young man stepped briskly into the shop maneuvering around Youji, extending his hand towards Ken who could do nothing more than look up at him like a deer stuck in the headlights.
Aya's eyebrow twitched upwards once, but other than that there was no visible sign of his quickly shortening temper.
"Teijirou Uchida, I'm a journalist and I couldn't help but read the article on you this morning. I'm curious about the truth of this matter," he said cheerfully, leaving his hand extended as Ken either refused or was unable to take it. After a rather awkward moment he chuckled thinly and then cocked his head again. "Do you mind if I sit?"
Ken opened his mouth, beginning to find his footing after the initial bewilderment. But he was still a tad too slow however.
"I mind," Youji said darkly, shifting his weight, putting one hand on the back of the chair closest to Uchida.
Teijirou shot him a quick glance and then chuckled. "I didn't realize you required bodyguards, Hidaka-san. Should I have made an appointment?"
"That's it," Youji grumbled. "You're so out of here."
He closed the gap between himself and the young journalist, grabbing the young man's shoulder. Much to Youji's surprise the man twisted easily out of his grasp, turning around and pulling quickly away.
"Touch me again and I will sue you," he said, his deceptively cheerful voice making a rather quick change, dropping in tone, laced with threat.
"Excuse me?" Youji grated, narrowing his green eyes.
"Journalists can't be too careful, my friend. And I don't like being manhandled anymore than the next person, so please, try to resist the urge to touch me."
Youji's nostrils flared and then he composed himself, pointing at the door. "Leave my shop before I kick your sniveling, two-faced ass seven ways from Sunday. And I'm not your friend."
"My business isn't finished here," Teijirou replied somewhat blandly, placing a hand on Ken's shoulder.
At the touch Ken seemed to finally come back to his senses. With one quick flick he angrily brushed the man's hand away and then stood abruptly, to face him. Anger flashed in his brown eyes as he pulled himself up to stare resolutely at the rather taken aback young man.
"I don't know what exactly you think your business is, Uchida-san, but I would appreciate it if you would do as my co-worker asks and leave. I don't want to talk to you. Leave me alone."
The young man actually blanched for a moment and Ken was momentarily thrown by how truly crestfallen the young, dark haired man appeared. "Ah… Hidaka-san, I understand that you might feel rather… uncomfortable about talking to someone about this right now," he said, recovering quickly, a small smile re-gracing his face. Reaching into his pocket, he produced a small, white card and began to hold it out to Ken. "I'll give you my card and when you feel like-."
But before he could either finish his sentence or pass his card off to Ken, Youji had grabbed him by the shoulder again and begun to drag him away. His fingers released the card and it fell into empty air, fluttering slowly to the tiled floor.
"See, now your business is finished, Uchida-san," Youji said sweetly.
"I thought I told you not to touch me," Teijirou grumbled.
"Go ahead and sue me, pretty boy. I'll take my chances. Aya, would ya mind getting' the door?"
Without a word Aya crossed silently to the door and held it open. Youji escorted the journalist to the door and deposited him, none too gently onto the sidewalk outside.
As the door closed on the young man's back and Youji and Aya began to move back to their respective spots Ken sat down heavily and buried his face in his hands. "Why me?"
"Are you ok, Ken-kun?" Omi asked worriedly, leaning over the table. He'd watched the entire exchange silently, knowing his interference wouldn't have done much good.
"Hai," Ken moaned, putting his head on the table.
Then suddenly the doorbell jingled again as the door was hastily pushed open. "I know I'm not welcome but just let me say one thing. There is no use sitting here and hoping everything will go away, Hidaka-san. Ignoring the problem won't make it get better, it will only make it worse. But then you might have to learn that the hard way. I know my own profession and once the industry grabs a hold of something that sells they will only fan the flames higher and higher. Today was only the beginning. No matter what consequence telling the truth will bring, I promise that it will be more bearable than letting the rumors spread on their own. No matter what that truth is, it's all that I care about. I can help you a lot more than I can hurt you. Just think about it."
Suddenly Aya stepped forward again, gritting his teeth and slammed the door shut on the journalist's face. The bell jingled loudly in protest.
"We're closed," the redheaded leader of Weiss snapped, taking his key from his pocket and giving it a savage turn in the lock before he flipped the sign in the window. His narrow, penetrating eyes locked for a moment with those of the young journalist and both could see that the other was not a man to be denied.
With a frustrated hiss Aya tore himself away from the front door and stalked back across the shop, stopping by Ken's shoulder. "Nice mess you've gotten yourself into. Must be nice to be so popular," he sneered and then continued on, slamming the back door behind him.
"Oi, Aya!" Youji called after him.
"Forget it, Youji. Aya's right. This is all a big mess. I've gotta find a way out of it."
Youji patted one of Ken's shoulders. "It will all blow over. Don't let Aya's hot air get to you. The guy's in serious need of a laxative and some Prozac."
Neither Omi nor Ken could help but snicker at Youji's ruthless prognosis of their notoriously high-strung leader. But Ken's laughter was only half hearted and quickly died away as Youji gave his shoulder another pat and then followed after Aya, leaving through the back door.
No matter what Youji said Ken couldn't help but take Aya's contempt to heart. For some reason he had always wanted to find a way past that icy wall that Aya showed to the world.
Ken wasn't the kind of person who liked being alienated from or by others, especially when he was always so eager and willing to know and accept people for who they were. Some people thought it was naiveté that made him so trusting, but Ken knew that being naïve had nothing to do with it. It was just who he was. He wanted to believe that there were still some people, indeed most people, who were good at heart. Believing this was the only thing that kept him from despairing and losing faith in all of humanity. It might mean that the fall from grace was that much harder when he found himself double-crossed or backstabbed, but he had to keep believing in people, or else he knew he would go crazy. He wanted to be able to believe in Aya. Aya was his leader, the driving force of Weiss, the man who should have been able to inspire the others. But at times it was just so hard to believe in someone who wouldn't let him inside, who just kept pushing away and closing off.
At first he thought he could break down Aya's defenses simply by use of brute force, but no amount of bull-dozing had seemed to work. Aya wasn't the kind of guy you could just "knock some sense into". It seemed that not matter what he tried with Aya he only got a slap in the face in return. And now Aya's contempt was practically more than he could bear.
"Ken?" Omi's voice broke in through Ken's musings. "Are you sure you're ok?"
Ken shook his head and sighed. "Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry, I was just thinking."
Omi giggled. "Well, ok. But I agree with Youji, don't let what Aya says effect you. Just think of it as his way of showing concern."
"Yeah, I guess."
Omi shook his head. "No, I mean it, Ken. I know Aya can be pretty cold, but I bet he's as worried about you as Youji and I are. He's cold, not heartless."
Ken raised an eyebrow. "The wise sage speaks."
Omi giggled again and then went suddenly serious. "I really mean it, Ken-kun. Like when… when I learned about my family, about who I really was. At first Aya seemed really angry. He wouldn't even talk to me. But then, in the end, it was Aya who was really there for me when I needed someone. It was Aya who calmed my fears and told me that I wasn't who I was because of a name. I'm Omi Tsukiyono, not Mamoru Takatori, and I know that because of Aya. He cares. It just takes him a while to sort out his emotions and get around to showing it."
Ken fixed Omi with a serious stare, searching the blue-eyed boy's face for a moment. He felt a sudden, unexpected pang of envy. Somehow along the way, Omi had managed to get past Aya's icy wall. But then it was hard to block out the cheerful, persistent bishounen. Ken had a feeling that Omi took the connection he had shared with Aya for granted. It didn't occur to Omi that it was possibly a phenomenon particular to his own effect on most people.
Ken smiled softly and nodded. "Yeah. I guess you're right, Omittchi."
"Of course I am."
Ken chuckled half-heartedly again and then put his head down in his arms.
Why do I even bother? Aya hates me.
He peered through the gap in his arms, studying the tiled floor with his eyes.
"Well, Ken-kun, I think that since we closed up shop early I'll take advantage of the time and get some work done on the computer. Don't sit here and pout for too long, ne?"
"Sure thing, Omi," Ken's voice said faintly, but he wasn't really listening to Omi anymore. His eyes had settled on a small, white card lying face up on the floor, and the neat, blocky writing on its surface set his mind to thinking.
* * * * * *
"We have a winner!" Youji's loud, gregarious voice boomed as he pushed through the front door sending the bell into a fit of jarring jingling.
Ken looked up from the table where he had been working over a particularly sickly looking violet. Sunlight streamed in through the large front windows backlighting Youji as he grinned wickedly and twitched his eyebrows at Ken. Without another word, and ignoring the death glare he received from Aya, Youji crossed the shop, adjusting the grocery bag he had balanced under one arm and came to stand next to Ken.
Ken's brown eyes watched him apprehensively, knowing only too well what Youji was most likely rummaging around for as he dipped into the bag. A few moments later the sound of crinkling, rustling paper was accompanied by the materialization of yet another thick, squarish looking newspaper.
The tall, blonde assassin chuckled perversely as he dropped the tabloid down on the table next to Ken's sickly violet.
All Ken could do was sigh. He was far past the point of being able to get freshly upset with every new scandalous 'revelation' that the news industry dug up. He'd save up the day's worth of aggravation and frustration and let it out when he could finally be alone in his room.
Youji plopped down next to Ken and set the grocery bag on the table, propping his head in one hand, staring at the brunette as if he were waiting for something.
Ken looked away and went back to picking at the pitiful plant in front of him. He felt for the plant. It felt like him. All root bound and sick and sad. Being picked at by careless, coarse hands, peered at by numerous eyes, inspected, poked at, prodded, and finally, hopefully, dismissed and left to wither up and die. Ken had the distinct feeling that he was being morbid, but didn't really care. He went on working on the violet.
"Stop staring at me," he grumbled under his breath after a while.
"Then read it," Youji answered, keeping his eyes trained on Ken as he nonchalantly reached back into the grocery bag and started pulling out apples. "Omi, you want an apple?"
Omi looked over from where he had been doing inventory and grinned. "Thanks, Yotan!"
"No problem, bishounen. Here catch," he called, sending one apple arcing through the air, never letting his eyes leave Ken's profile. Youji noticed, with no small amount of perverse satisfaction, that Ken's jaw had started to clench and unclench. A sure sign that the brown-eyed boy-next-door was getting agitated.
"Momoe-san, would you like an apple?" Youji called again.
There was no response from the little woman who sat, legs tucked under herself, in the rocking chair by the refrigerated flower case.
"Momoe-san?"
Youji had the urge to turn his head, but keeping Ken under close scrutiny was too much fun and he knew that all his efforts would be lost if he let the younger Weiss member off now. Ken was starting to take deep, shaky breaths and bat his eyes at a rather alarming rate every few seconds. This was fun.
"She's asleep, Kudou," Aya's deep, thick voice answered from where he was sweeping the floor for the third time in as many hours.
"Ah," Youji replied, tilting his head a bit. "Would –you- like an apple, Aya-kun?" he asked sweetly.
"No. And I would appreciate it if you wouldn't eat in the shop," he grated.
"Why? There's no one in here. It's no wonder Momoe fell asleep. No one is allowed to stay in here long enough to keep us busy," Youji grumbled.
It was true. The shop had been amazingly quiet for the past few days. In fact Aya had made sure it stayed that way ever since they had opened shop again after the initial tabloid rush day. The front window was now adorned with rather large, sharp block characters reading "IF YOU AREN'T GOING TO BUY ANYTHING STAY OUT! Rose Sale! One dozen for 2000 Yen."
Shoppers who lingered for longer than ten minutes without making a purchase were promptly shown the street, courtesy of Aya's foot in their ass. For the relative quiet Ken was grateful, although he had a feeling that Aya had taken action more to defend Weiss against any possible complications caused by possible snoopers and for his own sanity than for any reason even remotely relating to Ken's well being.
"Customers are welcome, loiterers and… fans, are not," Aya said flatly, casting a narrow, withering glance in Ken's direction.
But Ken was too focused on trying not to let Youji's stupid grin and constant scrutiny drive him mad to notice.
"This is a good apple!" Omi chirped. "You should have one Ken."
"I'll pass," Ken grated, twitching slightly as he heard Youji chuckle.
"Just read it, Kenken," Youji said softly. "You know you want to. It's a winner. The best one yet. Read it."
"Leave me alone, Kudou," Ken hissed, not turning his head.
"Read it, read it, read it," Youji pressed, leaning a little closer. "I'm not going away until you do. I want the whole shop… all four of us and the sleeping Momoe, to hear what the magic boys down at the tabloid shop have come up with for today. Inquiring minds want to know."
Ken closed his eyes and tried to subdue the overwhelming urge to clock Youji in the face. His hands trembled with suppressed irritation, and the leaves of the poor violet shook slightly, seemingly in tune with Ken's nervousness.
"Do it," Youji said again, only this time he leaned closer to Ken and blew against the shell of his ear.
That was it. The last straw. Ken's whole body twitched nervously, his hand jerking, accidentally snapping off the last semi healthy looking bud on the languishing flower.
"Argh!" Ken yelled, twisting savagely in his seat, his hand balling into a fist, crushing the violet bulb into a rather juicy, purple mess.
"Kudou!"
Violent, smoldering brown eyes widened, clashing with cool, laughing green.
"Yeeees?"
That smooth, taunting voice slid over Ken's nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard. Those laughing eyes and that self-indulgent smile just threw him right over the edge.
"Fine! Fine! You bastard, fine I'll read the goddamned headlines for today's tabloids!" he cried. "Let's find out what's new in the life of Ken Hidaka, shall we? Because I would really like to know, seeing as I obviously don't know myself since every story has been news to me! So let's see what today's 'winner' is all about."
Ken grabbed frantically at the paper and turned it over scanning the headlines. As he did so his face paled a bit and he felt all of his earlier fanaticism drain away.
With a sigh of defeat and disgust he dropped the paper and sat back. "Oh, Jesus," he grumbled under his breath. This was too much. He crossed his arms and closed his eyes. And to think only a week ago his life had been normal. At this thought Ken had to laugh. He knew things were getting bad when he could consider being a part of Weiss as normal.
Youji started to laugh out loud and reached for the paper. "Aren't you going to read it to the rest of us?"
Ken sneered at Youji and narrowed his eyes. "You do it. I know you're dying to, ass-hole."
Youji giggled to himself and sniggered. Standing up he held out the tabloid and started to read.
"Supposed Ken Hidaka gay love square scandal! Ex-soccer star look alike at center of homoerotic love battle with roommates?! Florist foursome?! See page 16 for full story and (once again) exclusive photos," Youji bellowed gleefully. The sound of tabloid pages turning was accompanied by the sound of a clipboard being dropped and the sudden lack of sweeping.
Ken didn't dare open his eyes. He knew what he would see. Omi would be standing there, clipboard at his feet, looking positively scandalized. And Aya… well Aya would most likely be readying himself to kill Youji. And after that he would move on to Ken and then march himself down to the printing house and set it on fire. Hopefully Momoe was still asleep.
Youji had flipped to page 16 by this time and scoffed. "That is so not my ass. My ass is so much tighter than that. Although I do have to admit that this one guy –does- bear a passing resemblance to our beloved leader."
Only a deafening silence met with his comment, but Ken knew this to be much deadlier than anything else that might have been uttered.
"We made the tabloids, guys," Youji chirped, undaunted. "You should feel proud! We're all scandalous now! No one's been left out. Thanks Ken, you've brought us so much joy."
"I have a feeling the high school girls are going to be back tomorrow," Omi sighed rather despondently.
"I don't know, Omittchi. After Aya drove them away with the broom, I think they might stay gone," Youji interjected.
Ken finally opened his eyes in time to see Omi look at him pitifully, blue eyes wide and rather blank. He shook his head at Youji. "Nope. Believe me, one whiff of the word 'shounen-ai' and they'll be back... in force."
Ken had a queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach and went back to closing his eyes. Thus he didn't see the uncharacteristically concerned look on Aya's face or the questioning glance thrown in his direction.
"Girls these days," Youji grumbled. "Well anyway," he continued, placing a hand on Ken's shoulder, "I have to say that this is one of my all time favorites, although I have to admit that the alien abduction theory is still by far number one. See, Ken, you finally found a way to make yourself useful. If nothing else the entertainment you've brought is priceless."
Ken took a quavering breath and stood up abruptly. Youji flinched like he expected Ken to throw a punch his direction, but Ken didn't have the energy or the drive to do anything to Youji. Besides, what difference would it make if he decked the playboy or not? It wasn't going to make the stories stop coming, it wasn't going to make things go back to the way they were, or erase the empty, tired, painful feeling that had been growing in his stomach for the past week. It wouldn't even make him feel better for a short time, so there was really no use. He'd just end up with sore knuckles anyway. Hitting anything as hard as Youji's thick scull most certainly would.
"I'm going to my room. You don't need me here," he said with a mix of bitterness and anger in his voice. He didn't bother to give any of his teammates a dismissive glance as he stalked to the back door and slammed it shut behind him. Nor did he feel the pair of indigo eyes that followed him as he went on his way.
A tense silence hung in the air for a few moments and then Youji grumbled and threw himself down in the chair that Ken had just vacated.
"Shit," he grumbled. "And I thought that would work."
"I think you went too far, Youji," Omi snapped, going into defensive mode as he often did when it came to Ken. "I thought he was going to hit you, and I wouldn't have blamed him if he had either."
Youji sighed. "I wish he –had- hit me. It might have done him some good. I'm tired of him just pouting and moping. It isn't good for him. He shouldn't let this shit bother him. I keep thinking that if I can just get him worked up enough he'll pop and then realize how stupid this whole thing is and let it roll off his back."
Omi shrugged. "Ken's not like that. He cares about what people think of him, this kind of stuff gets to him, you know. He'd probably feel a lot better if you'd stop tormenting him, Yotan."
Youji grumbled and picked absently at Ken's violet, leaning forward. "I just wish he'd wake up and realize it isn't a big deal."
"It is a big deal," the soft, low voice of Weiss' redheaded leader said.
Youji turned his head towards Aya who was setting his broom against the wall. Aya turned towards him and cast him a bland glance as he began to deftly untie his apron strings. His fingers worked quickly behind his back as he walked across the shop to the pegs by the back door.
"Where are you going?" Youji asked.
"Watch the shop," Aya said flatly as he turned the handle of the back door and disappeared.
"That wasn't an answer, Fujimiya!" Youji called after him, but the only response he got was the sound of the door clicking shut.
* * * * * *
Aya paused at the base of the stairs and listened. He could hear Youji's muttering still coming from the shop, but he blocked it out easily enough. He couldn't hear any sound coming from the upstairs apartment or from the mission room below which meant that Ken really had most likely gone to hole himself up in his room. Again. In some ways Aya was loath to bother him now. He of all people understood the importance of privacy and the sanctity of one's own room. But then again he knew that this way Ken wouldn't be able to escape what he had to say.
Placing one hand over his back pocket and sighing softly in satisfaction at finding the thin envelope still tucked safely away there, the leader of Weiss mounted the stairs to carry out his leaderly duties.
The upstairs was as eerily quiet as the downstairs, which had Aya slightly worried. He had known Ken long enough to know that his silence indicated the severity of his condition more than words ever could. If Ken had been spitting mad, screaming and swearing, punching walls and kicking doorjambs Aya would have been much more at ease.
He was used to his own silence, not the silence of others.
Aya paused outside Ken's door and listened. Nothing. Yet he could feel the unmistakable aura of Ken. It was a presence, a feeling he had become accustomed to after working in such close quarters with the slightly younger brunette for so long. Even though Ken made no sound, Aya knew he was there.
Biting his lip for a moment, Aya took a deep breath and absently reached to feel inside his back pocket again. He willed himself to stay calm. Lowering his eyelids, he breathed deeply and then opened them again slowly, focused. No matter what, he said to himself, I will not let Ken drag my emotions to the forefront.
The last thing either of us needs is another fight.
He knocked once on the door and waited.
"Fuck off, Kudou!" The reply was quick and sharp.
Aya's lip twitched once, but he didn't let it bother him. He knocked again.
"I said, fuck off, Youji!"
"What if it isn't Youji," Aya said flatly, willing his voice to remain calm and even.
There was a loud silence from behind the door and then Aya heard the sound of feet padding softly across the floor. He watched the knob turn slowly, the brass colored metal catching the dim light reflected from the window at the end of the hall. The door swung open a crack.
A pair of tired, sad looking brown eyes peered up, not a little disbelievingly, at the tall, rigid looking redhead. They studied his face for a moment and then fell to the floor as if in defeat.
"Can't you just leave me alone? What do you want?" he asked quietly.
Aya shifted his weight and raised one eyebrow. "We need to talk."
"The last time you said that to me was when this whole mess started," Ken grumbled.
"What's your point?" Aya replied, his voice low and even. He stood waiting, his eyes, as always, betraying nothing.
Finally Ken chuckled a little sickly and then pushed the door open the rest of the way, letting it swing out. He backed away from the doorway and walked back over to his bed.
"C'mon in, Aya-kun. Make yourself at home."
Aya surveyed the rather disorganized contents of Ken's room. A pile of laundry in one corner, a few magazines strewn on the floor, more laundry in the other corner, empty sports drink bottles tipped over onto their sides, and yet more laundry.
Not likely.
On Ken's already overly cluttered desk was a growing pile of tabloid newspapers; the weeks worth of headlines and rumors ranging from the humorously speculative to the outrageously offensive. Aya had heard them all, Youji had made sure of that. Aya thought it distinctly morbid for Ken to surround himself with the source of his misery.
"You should clean this place up," Aya said without thinking.
Ken shot him a dark glance and then snickered. "Do you really need –another- reason to lecture me, Aya?"
"No. You've given me enough," he replied quickly and coldly. He didn't like the way his voice sounded or how immediately and unbidden the sharp words rose to his tongue, but there was little he could do to recall them or to curb the effect they had on his teammate.
Ken's dark, hurt eyes darted away from him quickly and the young assassin sat down heavily on his bed.
"Just tell me what you want, Aya. And then leave me the hell alone," he sighed. His voice sounded so tired.
Eyeing Ken, but unable to convey the empathy he felt for the miserable young man, Aya ignored his unnatural desire to speak words of comfort and instead reached into his back pocket and finally pulled out the envelope he had folded there.
"Manx dropped by yesterday while you were busy pouting in here by yourself," Aya said, again aggravated at his own unthinking nature to say whatever biting words came freely to his lips. He didn't want to twist the knife in Ken, but he couldn't stop. It would seem that he couldn't let himself be off the defensive. Not when it came to Ken. Ken was dangerous. Yet at the same time the taciturn leader of Weiss understood that if he kept pushing then eventually something was going to break and things between him and his hotheaded teammate would go far beyond repair. And deep down Aya knew he didn't want that to happen. In fact he knew the opposite to be true. But then again, that's why Ken was dangerous.
Ken said nothing to Aya's jab, only stared at his hands.
"She left this," Aya continued, holding out the envelope to Ken. "All this attention has not gone unnoticed by Kritiker. They want the problem resolved. They aren't happy about the implications the publicity may have for Weiss."
Ken took the envelope with a hand that was deceptively steady. The thin paper slid between his fingers with a soft rustling sound. He found himself resenting the fact that he had been handling too much paper recently.
But this paper was different. It was slightly warm to his touch. From where it was pressed against Aya's body. He thought absently, amused at the thought that Aya actually conducted heat through all that ice.
Ken slid his finger under the seal and ripped it open, the tearing sound breaking the heavy silence.
Pulling the single piece of thrice folded paper from inside, Ken methodically unfolded it and began to read over the dark, printed letter. It was a formal reprimand for "drawing attention" to "delicate matters." It made it very clear that no one was happy with him and that if things could not be settled certain "actions" would become necessary.
Like terminating my association with Weiss. Heh, or just terminating period.
Ken curled his lip in disgust and dropped the letter and the envelope onto his floor to join the other miscellaneous clutter.
Aya watched him, waiting silently. When Ken said nothing he pressed the issue.
"What did it say?"
Ken looked up at Aya and tilted his head. "You didn't read it already?"
"Why would I read something that was meant for you?"
Ken shrugged. "Cause you can."
Aya didn't honor his snide comment with a reply. He silently death glared the top of Ken's head instead.
"It said they aren't happy with the attention. And I'm pretty sure it said they were going to discharge me from Weiss if this whole thing didn't get resolved."
Aya's eyes widened in surprise, but only for a split second. He hadn't thought that Kritiker would take such drastic measures against Ken to get what tiny amount of heat he had put on them off again. It seemed a little extreme. Or maybe a lot extreme when it came down to it. The last thing Aya wanted was to lose a member of his team, especially one who had been in Weiss even longer than he had. Especially Ken.
"They couldn't have meant that," Aya said flatly.
Ken looked up and cocked a sarcastic half-grin. "And why not? They're Kritiker. They have free license to fuck up lives at will. It's what they do," he said.
"I'll talk to them," Aya said taking a step towards his subordinate instinctively.
Ken narrowed his eyes, his demeanor suddenly changing. "Are you patronising me?" He asked suspiciously. Then, as if he had made up his own mind on the answer, he snapped, "Do –not- patronize me! I've had enough of your shit!"
Aya stared back at Ken silently, one eyebrow raised slightly, his arms crossed across his chest. Ken could act like such a child. "Are you done?" he asked, his voice flat and steady as he watched Ken silently seethe from the bed.
With Aya's latest words all of Ken's agitation finally broke loose. "No I am not done! This isn't fair!" he cried, slamming his fist into his mattress. "How can they fucking blame me for this?!"
Half expecting, but still taken aback and inexplicably annoyed by Ken's outburst, Aya threw all resolutions out the window and snapped back, "And who else should they blame?"
"Themselves!" Ken nearly screamed getting to his feet. "They're the ones that saved me from that fire! They're the ones who took me and made me what I am today, I'm their toy, their creation and they can't even take responsibility for what they've done and what they've messed up! Not once… not once did they mention a change in identity or even try to put the thought that I should conceal who I was into my head. And how the hell was –I- supposed to know?! I was a soccer player, the whole assassin thing was a little new to me!"
"Settle down, Ken."
"And why the hell should I? I'm right! I never asked for this, I never asked to become what I am today, Aya. Unlike you I didn't join Kritiker because I wanted to, I had no choice," Ken snapped.
"Don't drag me into this," Aya replied, his voice betraying the frayed edges of his temper.
"You're already in it, Aya. You're the leader of Weiss, what happens to me is your responsibility. Are you going to be the one who carries out the order to 'terminate my association' with Weiss? Would you kill one of your teammates to cover up –their- dirty laundry?"
Aya narrowed his indigo eyes, leveling them, staring hard at Ken. "No one is getting killed over this."
"You didn't answer my question."
"I'm not going to acknowledge your absurd question with a reply."
Ken snickered, a suspicious moisture seeping into his eyes. "You would. You would take one of us out if they told you to. You'd clean up their mess for them while they shirked responsibility just like they're doing with me. What happened, -Aya-kun-? I thought you only came on board to get back at the men who hurt your baby sister. Oh but that was quite some time ago. If I remember correctly, she's quite fine now. So why are you still here? I'll tell you why, because you've become Kritiker's lapdog," Ken spat.
He had no idea where all of this anger he had focused on Aya was coming from, but he knew it felt good get it out on something. That something just happened to be Aya.
He never saw Aya's hand coming as it flew up to backside his left cheek. Ken found himself staggering from the force of Aya's blow, and he knew he'd gone too far, way too far. And before he could even right himself, still clutching his cheek, Aya was upon him, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and hauling him up to face him.
"I am –nobody's- lapdog. I stay for the same reason you stay: we don't belong anywhere else anymore. And for your information, the only thing that could ever make me kill you, Hidaka, is you shooting off your mouth. Now stop feeling sorry for yourself and fix this," he growled giving the smaller man a rough shake before dropping him.
Ken stood, eyes wide, holding his cheek. He couldn't believe he'd gotten that out of line with Aya.
But it just wasn't fair, and everybody refused to see it. It wasn't his fault for being who he was! If Kritiker hadn't wanted agents who attracted attention to themselves then they shouldn't have made it common practice to recruit ex sports stars. It was all so stupid and all Ken wanted was for someone to agree with him, for someone else to realize that this was his life that was falling apart. He'd lost everything once, he couldn't handle losing everything again.
He just wanted someone to be there, to care. Why couldn't someone just give a damn for once?!
But thinking that way wasn't going to help. He had to fix things somehow if he didn't want to lose the only thing he had left, his identity with Weiss. And standing in that messy, crowded room with Aya wasn't going to help him think of a way out.
He needed air. He needed to get away from Aya and Kritiker and that damn letter.
Without another word the brunette straightened up and pushed past Aya. Ignoring the redhead as he called after him.
Ken bounded down the stairs two at a time and slipped his sneakers on, still ignoring Aya's voice as it followed him down the stairs and eventually to the door that led into the shop. With an aggravated shove he burst in, pulling his leather biker jacket on, his face set and grim.
"Oi! Ken, where are you going?!" Youji called as Ken blew past him.
"Grocery shopping," Ken snapped.
"But I already went grocery shopping today," Youji said lamely.
"I'm going again!" Ken yelled and then shouldered out the front door into the now waning evening light.
As Aya walked quietly into the shop the front door had just closed again, the bell still jingling in Ken's aftermath.
"What the hell was that about? Aya, what did you say to him?" Youji asked incredulously.
Aya didn't even bother to turn his gaze away from the door to glare at Youji. His cold, frustrated voice was enough to shut Youji up all on its own.
"Don't you have some plants to water?"
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to be continued
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