"Cry Ophelia"
by s1ncer1ty
*A/N: *checks Aya's pulse* Yep, still dead. Sorry, folks. More KxO coming through. Oh, and angst. Don't forget the angst. Also note that I made a few modifications in part 2, so if something doesn't make complete sense, it might be explained in the reposted version of 2. If it's still not explained...um... it wasn't me! *hides!*
The mission had been carried out with infinitely more ruthlessness than usual. Ken's clothes were so sodden with blood that he vowed to simply burn them when he finally managed to peel himself out of them. His knuckles were so swollen, he probably wouldn't be able to make a fist for days to come.
His teammates, too, had been equally as violent. Yohji had laid into the enemy with such fierceness that he'd snapped his harigane by his own hands more often than not. Omi had run dry of crossbow bolts and auxiliary darts; the only other time Ken had seen him run out of ammunition was when he, Omi, and Yohji had been hunted by Reiji Takatori's army, when they'd all nearly died had Aya not appeared at the last minute to save their sorry hides...
Aya. It had all been for Aya. The fighting, the blood, the ultra-violence.
The original pretense -- and even Persia knew it as such -- was to finish the mission in which Aya had been killed. But really, all the boys had fought like animals solely in vengeance for their fallen comrade.
Ken hoped that, wherever he was, Aya would be happy, because he certainly wasn't.
He trudged up the cold spiral staircase to his room, turned the shower tap in his bathroom as hot as he could stand it, and pulled the blood-soaked clothing from his skin. He couldn't suppress a wince at the wet smacking sound his shirt made as it hit the tiles. Even though the blood washed away easily, the stain would remain forever imprinted in his mind. Just as the sight of Omi's blood staining the walls and darkening the fabric of his windbreaker would never leave.
Ken swayed dizzily, sickened by his thoughts, and spilled into a heap beneath the heavy shower stream, where even the scalding water and steam couldn't wash away his sins.
He couldn't do it anymore. There was nothing -- and no one -- he cared to fight for. No purpose, no drive, no nerve.
But leaving was easier said than done.
The water had run cold, chilling even Ken's frozen soul, by the time he finally emerged. Somehow, he managed to find a rumpled pair of shorts and pull them on before he headlong into his bed, and gave himself freely to the the overwhelming darkness of sleep.
Ken felt as if he'd slept for weeks, hibernating in a womb of blackness where no dreams threatened to overtake his sanity. He probably could have kept on sleeping, were it not for the rapping that built at the back of his mind, intensified, threatened to drive away what remained of his sanity.
Sitting up sharply, Ken struggled to bring the world into focus. There was someone standing before him, interrupting his unconsciousness -- Death, perhaps? But since when had Death worn red sneakers and long, white socks...?
"Ken-kun?" Omi stood in the doorway, looking hesitant and pale. The events from several nights before had clearly taken their toll. Unlike Ken, the smudges of darkness beneath his eyes betrayed his own distinct lack of sleep.
"Unh. Yeah. I think." Ken sat up with a groan, every muscle seeming to protest as he disentangled himself from his sheets.
"How are you?"
"Fine." Liar, he thought inwardly. In reality, he felt like some pathetic creature that a cat might have killed after hours of toying with it in slow, delicious torture.
"That's good," said Omi softly, head lowered so as not to meet Ken's gaze.
"How about you?"
Omi shrugged. Ken couldn't help but notice that, even weeks after the original incident, he still favored his uninjured shoulder. "Not as well as I'd like. But not too bad, relatively speaking."
"Oh." Ken rubbed an eye with the palm of his hand. "What isn't okay?"
Omi let out a faint laugh. "Just -- something you mentioned. Before the last mission." The last phrase was said softly, as if it pained him just to bring up the bloodbath that was the last mission.
"Mmh," Ken murmured. Sliding from between the sheets, he climbed to his feet and crossed the room to his dresser. Without another word, he slid open the top drawer and took out a rumpled red T-shirt, pulling it over his bare chest.
"Are you... still out?" asked Omi, not moving from his spot on the bed, amid Ken's tangled bedsheets and his own unrelenting doubt.
"I can't say I've given it a hell of a lot of thought." With a dry laugh, Ken added, "I've been unconscious for the past -- er. However long. How long have I been asleep, anyway?"
"Some time," Omi said gently.
"How long?"
"Almost twenty hours, give or take."
Ken whistled. "Heh, shit."
"I didn't want to bother you," said Omi, smiling faintly.
"Then why are you bothering me now?" Omi hissed in a pained breath, and instantly Ken regretted it -- not what he'd said, but how he'd said it. He'd meant to sound joking, but it had come out way too snarky. He could be such an asshole when he set his mind to it.
"I wanted to see you. Talk to you."
Ken grunted. "You could have waited until I was fully awake, at least." He turned around and forced a smile, lest Omi take his words the wrong way again.
"I'm sorry, Ken-kun."
Waving a dismissive, almost impatient hand, Ken said, "Don't worry about it. I needed to wake up sometime soon, anyway. Fuck, I think the last time I slept that long was when I was comatose."
"You probably don't remember much of that, I'd imagine."
Ken smiled wryly. "I barely remember the last twenty hours."
"I wish I could say the same," said Omi softly, hair hanging limp in his eyes.
"Ne, Omi," Ken murmured as he crossed the room to settle back down on the bed beside his teammate. "What's up? Are you really that hung up on me leaving?"
"So you are leaving, Ken-kun?" Omi turned sad, glimmering eyes up to meet Ken's.
"I don't know. I just don't know. I mean, really, what do we do from here? Now that we've finished Aya's mission?"
"I'm sure Persia would be more than willing to give us a small amount of leave time," Omi said weakly.
"It ain't about leave, though. Persia just can't give enough. Unless..."
"Unless --?"
Ken's voice dropped to an almost inaudible whisper. "Unless it's for good." He cleared his throat and continued, "I've had enough. I either leave now, or I let what I've become consume me."
"And... you'll just leave me here."
"You'll have Yohji."
"Yohji-kun isn't you!" Omi blurted out, and immediately clapped a hand to his mouth.
Ken's own mouth hung open in surprise. As he stared at Omi, looking so flushed and so miserable, it dawned on him -- if he was going, then Omi would have to be with him, at his side. He couldn't allow another mission to wear away at their souls, steal away another glimmer of life in the other boy's eyes, make his own hands shake so badly that he could do nothing more than to watch them tremble.
"There was a time," Omi murmured, his hands twisting in his lap, "when you said you needed me. Is that -- what I want to know is -- Is it still true?"
Ken looked up, startled at the question. "I do," he whispered. "I do need you. More than ever."
"Because I -- I just --"
"Don't say anything. You don't have to." Ken was actually smiling, though his movements were hesitant as he placed cautious hands on either of Omi's shoulders. He leaned forward, until Omi was almost close enough for him to taste.
"We don't deserve to be happy, you realize." Omi leaned into Ken's arms, resting his head against the other boy's chest.
"I can't say I give a damn," Ken murmured against Omi's hair.
A distinct flush of disappointment had settled into Omi's cheeks. "What we're doing -- it's awfully selfish."
"I just told you, I don't --"
"Aya-kun wouldn't approve," Omi interjected, twisting around to stare up at Ken with wide, fearful eyes.
The smile on Ken's face faded, darkened, and he practically pushed Omi from his lap. "If you're having second thoughts, then go. You shouldn't have asked me. Go."
"Look, Ken-kun, I only meant that --"
"GO!" Roughly, Ken shoved himself to his feet.
"This isn't easy for me either!" Omi cried. "Do you think I want to leave the only thing I've ever known to be true?"
"There's more to this world than just Weiss. We're not bound, not contracted. We can leave at any time."
"Maybe you can leave, but for me it isn't quite so easy!"
"What's the problem? We tell Persia we're out, and then we leave."
"And what of Yohji-kun? Do we just leave him behind too?"
"Who the hell cares? I certainly don't. He didn't give a damn when Aya died."
"Don't hate Yohji-kun for the way he is. He's mourning too -- he's just not showing it."
Ken threw his hands in the air, biting back an impatient snarl. Just when he'd managed to fool himself into thinking that Omi might have needed him as much as he needed Omi...
"Ken-kun..."
"You could try." Ken spun fast on his heel, facing Omi with pleading eyes. "Will you do that? Can you do that?"
"I -- I don't know." Omi bit his lower lip, unable to meet Ken's gaze.
"I need you. You know that already. But I can't do it -- I can't leave alone."
"Don't put me in this position, Ken-kun. Leaving... That's something you have to be able to do on your own. The same way I need to do it on my own." Omi looked absolutely miserable, though his voice held as strong as ever.
"What?"
"You heard me." Even though Omi couldn't bear to turn his eyes up to meet Ken's, his voice had taken on a strong resolve. "If neither of us can do it on our own, then we're never going to be able to be fully free."
"Are you just going to keep at it, then? Missions? Killing? Causing even more pain than you've already caused?"
"What we're doing is necessary!" Omi retorted, head snapping up to show cheeks flaming with color. "You know that too. Otherwise you wouldn't have stayed with Weiss for three years."
"And our time has come, Omi!" Ken exclaimed, feeling his anger give way to something akin to desperation. "Let someone else take over, bear our burden. Did you really think you'd be doing this forever?"
"Actually, Ken-kun, I did..." said Omi quietly, once again averting his gaze.
"Come on, Omi," Ken sighed in exasperation.
"I thought I'd be doing this until I died." Omi managed a single, strained sob of a laugh. Short life expectancy, and all."
"Omi..."
"This is what I grew up doing, you see. This is all that I remember. Ever since I was a child, Weiss was my life. To leave the only thing I've ever known--"
"You should know something better!" Ken interjected hotly. "We all deserve to."
"Tell me, Ken-kun," said Omi, explaining slowly, patiently, "how did you feel when you were forced to quit the J-League? The day your old life died, and you were brought in by Persia? The day you lost it all, everything you'd ever held dear, the day your dreams were dashed away and you were left with nothing?"
Ken halted, face paling as Omi's words finally clicked in his mind. "I--"
"Now you know where I'm coming from," said Omi as he moved away from the bed, turning his back to the other boy. "Excuse me. I'll be going now, like you'd asked."
Ken blinked, watching helplessly as the other boy rose, slowly walking towards the door -- head held high, but steps shaking. And he wanted to stop him, make him turn around, keep him from leaving... But the words caught fast in his throat, held back by his own hesitancy and his fear. His mouth worked, trying so hard to form the words that would keep Omi from leaving. It was all so much easier said than done. Instead, only a soft noise managed to escape him. But it was enough to stay Omi's step, even if just for a second.
The younger boy paused in the doorway, hand resting lightly on the frame.
"O-Omi..." Ken managed to mutter. As he spoke, the words seemed to gain a momentum all their own.. "Listen, Omi... I know. It wasn't easy. But you know what? It proved that it could be done. It proved that such a change, such a horrible, terrible, life-altering change could be made. You take the opportunities that are presented to you, even if they're the wrong ones."
Omi began to protest, voice thin, strained. "It's not that simple, Ken-ku--"
"I'm not done yet!" Ken interjected, impatience creeping back into his tone. "I never said it'd be simple! I just mean that I know what it's going to be like -- hell. It'll be hell. It'll tear you to pieces on the inside. But anything's got to be better than slowly wearing away your soul like this. And -- I know you've got to do this on your own, Omi, but... I'll be here. Support, for you."
Omi was silent for a moment, and Ken watched as his shoulders tightened, beginning to shake...
"No. No, Omi, don't cry. I don't think I can deal with it now."
But as Omi turned, Ken could see that the boy's cheeks were dry, and a smile was shakily spreading across his lips. "Ken-kun!"
Before he knew it, Omi had thrown himself into Ken's arms, hugging him with a fierceness that Ken had never thought possible. And Ken's arms were tight around Omi's waist, his face burying into his hair. A tangle of arms, limbs, and an overwhelming feeling akin to happiness; Ken found himself pulling away just long enough to press his lips to Omi's -- never mind that he'd never kissed another boy in his life, not minding the squeak of surprise that Omi let out or the heat that flooded his own cheeks.
"Ken-kun!" Omi exclaimed when they finally pulled apart, laughing for perhaps the first time in weeks. "I -- I didn't think --"
"Yeah. Me neither." Ken was smiling sheepishly, eyes tilted down to his feet. "So, will you try? For yourself?"
The grin on Omi's face faded somewhat. "Where will I go?"
"With me," Ken said quickly, head snapping up. "I know someone in Australia who'd be more than happy to take us in. Or to New York -- I'm sure Yohji could hook us up with some of his old connections on the force."
"I've always wanted to go to America," said Omi in a soft tone.
Ken nodded, slipping his arm around Omi's shoulders. Omi fit just so comfortably against him... "Here's our chance, then."
"Want to know something funny, Ken-kun?"
"What's that?"
"Aya-kun wanted to go to America too," said Omi with a faint, almost nostalgic grin.
"How did you know that?"
Omi shrugged. "I just knew. It wasn't anything he ever said out loud -- you know how he was. But there was always something in his eyes that said so..."
"Heh. That's sort-of funny, given Aya's ability to speak English."
"Or lack thereof."
"Exactly."
"Not that you're much better, Ken-kun! I think the term they use overseas is 'Engrish.'" Omi grinned impishly.
"'En-gu-rish'?" Ken rolled the word over his Japanese-trained tongue, stumbling on the inflection.
Omi laughed aloud, a sound of such beauty that Ken might have cried if he hadn't been so happy. "See?"
"Okay, okay. Jeez, rub it in, why don't you?" Ken chuckled.
"So, Ken-kun, what about us, then?"
"What about us?"
"How do we -- I mean, what do we do from here?"
"One day at a time, I guess," Ken said, giving Omi's shoulders a light squeeze. "Why bother with definitions?"
"This is just so strange."
"I know. I don't even like boys."
"You could have fooled me."
Ken poked Omi in the side, unable to hide a playful smirk as the younger boy squirmed away. "Shut up. And what about you?"
Omi blushed. "I'm happy. A little scared, but happy. I think that's about all that matters."
"Yeah," said Ken, burying his face against Omi's hair once again, finding solace against the younger boy's slender, solid form. Aya might be dead, but Omi was warm, and alive, and here.
And so was Ken.
"Hey."
"Hey. To what do I owe this honor?"
"Look, Yohji...?"
"Hmm? Why, Ken, so serious... Something on your mind?"
"I -- Yeah. I just wanted to say --"
"Stop hesitating and spit it out. I'm a busy man, you know. Yours truly has plans with a lovely lady this evening."
"What we did three nights ago... That was our last mission. We're out."
"This lovely lady hates to be kept waiting, you know. One time I was five minutes late, and... Er. Did I just hear you correctly?"
"Yeah. We're out."
"And by 'we,' you mean..."
"Me and Omi. No more missions."
"This is an interesting development. So, you've thought long and hard about this, I'm assuming."
"Yeah."
"Or are you going off on one of your hot-headed kicks again?"
"I'm not! Look, I can't do it anymore. It's just too much. And -- And after Aya --"
"So this is what it's all about, then. Aya, Aya, Aya. Always about Aya."
"It has nothing to do with Aya!"
"Don't lie to me, Ken-Ken. It has everything to do with him. The way you and Omi have been acting lately, half-hearted, going about your work at the flowershop in a daze, always hiding yourselves away from the world..."
"Omi's been messed up since Aya's been gone."
"He's always been 'messed up,' as you so delicately put it. I expected him not to be right after Aya bit it. But you -- I can't say I ever expected it from you."
"Well, you thought wrong!"
"Don't take it out on me, just 'cause your lover is dead."
"He isn't my lover! He never was!"
"You're certainly acting like a man in love. C'mon, Ken-Ken, you should know by know that kind of stuff doesn't bother me. As long as it's not me you're crushing on."
"It isn't Aya!"
"Deny it all you want! Unless... Wait a minute..."
"Shut up, Yohji."
"It's Omi, isn't it? You want out because of Omi!"
"Shut. Up. Just shut up."
"Listen to me now, Ken, because I'm serious. Weiss is no place for love."
"Shut up before I make yo--"
"-- And Weiss is no place for those who won't put their hearts completely into their job. So maybe it's best if you do leave after all."
"That's it, I'm going to -- Huh?"
"If you can hold him with al that blood on your hands, then by all means, leave. Because there won't be a place for you here."
"He's got plenty of blood on his own hands."
"I know. That's why I'm not coming down too hard on you."
"Yohji--"
"So, you're out. Omi's out. Aya's dead. Which leaves me all by my lonesome. What's a guy to do?"
"Er..."
"I wasn't ready to move on just yet, you know."
"Huh?"
"Oh. Nothing. It's nothing..."
"But what do you --"
"Look, Ken, I'd love to stay here and chat all day, but as I told you before, I've got a date. With two destinies, no less."
"You're terrible."
"I know. Glad we had this little talk."
"Yeah, I -- Goodbye, then."
"Ja ne."
"Ne, Yohji?"
"Yeah?"
"...Thanks."
"Tell me, Ken, do you think you can protect him?"
"He can protect himself."
"Good. I just needed to know. Glad to hear it."
"Yeah."
"Now you can leave."
"Yes, your majesty."
"Heh, and don't you forget it either."
"Well?"
"I'm coming! I just need to do one more thing, Ken-kun."
"You're not locking up, are you?"
"I -- well, maybe..."
"You are. Let it go, Omi. Yohji's still there for another couple hours. He can do it himself."
"That's exactly why I'm locking up. He'd never remember to do it on its own."
"Just don't take too much longer, okay? We've got a flight to catch."
"I still can't believe we're doing this. Saying goodbye..."
"Hey, it ain't going to be easy. But it's for the best."
"I know."
"And you're not going to be alone."
"Yes... I know. It's just that --"
"What?"
"Ken-kun, don't you want to say goodbye?"
Ken turned, willing himself to face the flowershop that had been his home, his prison, his hell for the past three years. Where he'd first met Omi, his first contact with the team, standing at the doorway with nothing but a backpack and a mission plan. Where he'd met Aya for the second time, had tried to make amends by punching his daylights out, and had almost been run through in return. There'd been giggling girls, both in the shop fawning over them and in Yohji's bedroom -- and there'd been girls who'd come to the shop with their problems. Ouka, Neu, Sakura. The shop had been his sanctuary after Yoriko and his hideaway when he refused to deal with Kase's betrayal. It was where he'd washed away the blood after each mission, scrubbed his hands until they were red, raw, and shaking. It was where he'd resigned himself to staying forever, until the night that Aya left them in a wave of fire on that very last mission.
But he was leaving. He was leaving. With Omi.
"No. No, I'd rather not look back."
Omi smiled, and Ken turned away to face a brave new future.
...owari...