-gives out candy- Feed the children of America! We must become the most unhealthy, useless nation possible! Feed the children candy!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Frantic didn't begin to describe the state of panic Ken found himself in. It had been eight hours since his last phone conversation with Youji. They were picking them off, one by one. First by luring Aya out with his sister, then by luring Youji out with Aya. An incessant line of creatures swallowed by the old woman of a similarly themed song. A continuous death trap. Ken was going to have to go out looking for Youji soon, and if Ken didn't find himself whisked away to the unknown netherworlds, then Omi would be gone when he returned, and they'd use Omi as the final piece of bait. Hopeless.
He'd been force-feeding Omi tea laden with painkillers whenever he could keep Omi awake long enough to swallow anything. It was better, he supposed, being burdened with the task of worrying. He was an asshole, deserving of whatever problems came his way; better Omi should sleep through the troublesome bits. Eight hours and no phone call. He hadn't woken up to a phone call during the while he'd been sleeping, and the phone in their room was loud enough it wasn't a matter of sleeping through the call. He'd hurled the thing at enough walls due to rude morning awakenings that it was a surprise the machine still worked at all.
Ken puttered about, trying to keep his mind focused on other things. He made soup from scratch, something full of cheese and potatoes, keeping it heated until such a time provided itself that he could make Omi eat that as well. He used Omi's computer to fish about on the Internet for past issues concerning their invisible foe, Ko-ishi, searching for someone who would take up his name, his men. Omi woke up and he dragged him downstairs for some company, groggy and cranky as it might be. Still no phone call.
Omi fell asleep on the couch, curled up in a shivering ball. Ken felt even more insensitive and ran upstairs to get a blanket for him. Of course, the downstairs front door had to come flying open right as his foot hit the top stair, leaving him too far away from Omi to protect him.
Ken charged back down the stairs, strapping the gloves he'd had with him for the past eight hours, worry leading to paranoia. Sometimes the paranoid really are being stalked. Or at least are really being slaughtered one by one. He lunged at the oddly hunched figures lumbering awkwardly through the door, turning his claws away at the last moment, turning what would have been a killing blow into a stunning one.
"Fuck you too, Ken!" Youji spat at him from the ground, holding a hand up to his aching jaw in the dim light. While Ken tried not to have a heart attack from the combined relief and delayed reaction shock, a slight figure skipped past him. "What a dump." It intoned in an accented alto before turning and hauling the sprawled form of Aya up from the ground, mindful not to get too much of the reeking muck splattered across his body on her own clothing.
"Help me get the crazy one somewhere he can lie down; he's on his last legs and he won't keep going for much longer. I don't fancy burying any bodies tonight. I'm already tired." The equally filthy woman kicked Youji in the leg. "Get up, lazy man."
Youji used the hand not covering his sore ribs to push himself up. "Bitch." He commented in an offhand manner.
"Where the fuck have you been? Why didn't you call? What happened? Is Aya okay? Who the fuck is she? What is that god awful stench?" Ken spluttered out the first set of questions that came to mind.
"If the blonde one on the couch is as stupid as the rest of you appear to be, I'm going to leave you to your own devices." The woman informed him.
"And good fucking riddance!" Youji snapped as he shouldered the full weight of Aya's half-limp body. "I got sidetracked. I had to wander around the fucking sewers for who knows how many fucking hours and now we all fucking reek of shit and whatever the fuck was floating around down there! I'm going to do my best to get all that muck off Aya and then I'm taking a goddamned shower and you, bitch, can just wait your fucking turn. If you can't wait, we have a hose outside." He half walked, half dragged a glassy eyed, somewhat confused looking Aya up the stairs.
It was a hard trip up the stairs, reminiscent-in a strange sort of way-of the last stumbling trip he remembered making up a flight of stairs with Aya. Only that time they'd been trying to take it into a bedroom before things got publicly unacceptable in the hallway. Granted, they hadn't been covered with human waste or blood at the time either, and Aya had actually been conscious enough of his surroundings to enjoy the whole thing.
Aya tried to head for their bedroom, weakly striking out from Youji's supporting shoulder.
"I think not! You get that crap on the bed, I'm never sleeping there again! C'mon Aya, walkies, waaaalllkies. We're going walkies over to the bathrooooom." Youji practiced his own brand of idiocy while he dragged a resisting Aya further down the hall. Shit did NOT wash out of silk sheets very well, as far as he knew, and quite frankly, he didn't feel like experimenting in the matter firsthand.
With the bathroom door shut behind them, the stench started to become noticeable. "Who'd have ever thought wading through the underbelly of the city could be so decidedly unglamorous. You only see food color water down there in the movies." Youji complained.
Aya sighed heavily. "Youji, they flush the contents of their toilets down there, where is it exactly you think it goes to? Is there supposed to be a special section for the less appealing bits of human waste to go?" His head sagged down to his chest even as he countered Youji's whining. The weariness appeared to generate equally from mental and physical exertion.
"Someone's been down there, I saw signs of other people. There must be a nicer section they've found so they don't have to go wading every time they want to visit the surface. I have to go back." Aya tried to stand on his own again, stumbling down to one knee.
"Okay, we'll go back later, when I manage to get you clean enough that we can take a look at your leg." Youji soothingly told him, not even ready to tackle the concept of dealing with that annoying "Fate" bitch and her bizarre reasons until Aya was taken care of.
Aya gave the tub a dauting look. "I can't rest now, I have to find Aya." His face said he physically wanted to do anything BUT; worn out to the point of collapsing. "The next move will be revealed soon, and I need to be ready for whatever comes our way."
"Aya."
He looked over, eyes slanted.
"Don't give me that obsessive bullshit right now. I may not be as tired as you are, but I did stay up all fucking night, worrying what sort of trouble you'd been stupid enough to get into this time, and I did go following after you, wandering through the same miles of sewage that you did. All I want right now is to be clean and perhaps to get a nap in. Because of Fate's presence, that last option appears to be out for me, so I'm warning you now, if you get in the way of bathing, your ass IS grass."
"Damnit, Youji. She's all I have left now. She's my life. They took her away. Am I supposed to just give up and do nothing? I HAVE to do something. Life helps those who help themselves. She's all I have left and she's gone, and there has to be something I can do about that. I don't want to be hindered now. Right befor me, the sum of my life is missing in action."
"It's nice to know I'm appreciated around here." Youji said flatly, flipping the toilet seat down and dumping Aya onto it, filthy clothes and all. He turned to start the hot water, gingerly peeling off his clothing. Literally peeling them off. Sometimes he hated all the things that went along with their career of choice. Sometimes he hated all the people who came along with the title too.
"I'm sorry Youji." Aya apologized, not sounding like he meant it in the slightest. He contemplated the crusted mess his shoelaces had become and decided sitting and doing nothing would be preferable. There was a surprisingly large bloodstain across his leg. He poked at the center of it all, rewarded with a sharp brittle pain that spread up his side for a moment. Delightful.
Youji started in on his pants, biting his lower lip as fabric and skin made a messy separation, skinned from numerous falls on cinder brick. In the background he could hear Aya talking, pointless things, trying to sound apologetic for things he didn't even understand himself. Youji ignored him. It was a cultivated talent, he'd discovered.
"You're supposed to take your shoes off before your pants." Aya informed him helpfully as Youji discovered he was somewhat stuck. Youji rectified the problem, finally managing to strip down to his skin. He frowned at the mottled dried patterns on his skin, greenish brown patches that looked like odd tattoos or pain mottling. It wasn't so bad as long as one didn't think about what those dried smears were really constituted of.
He switched the water to shower flow once it had been adjusted to a suitable temperature.
"I can't stand up again right now." Another baleful remark, grudgingly this time. Aya realized he wasn't going to receive assistance and tried to lean over to undo the sodden boots rubbing his feet raw. The resulting lightheadedness almost sent him head over heels. Youji frowned and knelt to remove Aya's shoes. It felt too much of servitude to be kneeling at Aya's feet directly after having been informed he didn't even count as an important facet of Aya's life.
They probably made a bizarre sight, swaying unsteadily on tired feet as they struggled to get Aya out of his firmly plastered on clothing. Youji worked on being as silent, cold and impersonal as he could. It was unsure whether or not Aya noticed, his own behavior naturally being similar.
Youji's shaky hand pushed back the shower curtain. "Ladies first." He intoned mockingly. Aya frowned.
Taking turns under the spray, Youji wound up alternately supporting either side of Aya, using up his rapidly dwindling energy stores. He didn't bother warning Aya before he went to work on the horrendous bandage on his leg. The longer gash had healed closed, but he could see the red lines of infection spreading up pale skin even before he'd managed to find the end of the staunching fabric. Aya gripped the washcloth bar, both to support himself and to try to divert some of the pain he pretended not to feel.
"You don't have to be such an asshole." Aya gritted out after a particularly ungentle tug at the hopelessly snarled and crusted material.
Youji looked up, water running down the unforgiving planes of his face, damp hair subdued to darker, clumped spirals. "Don't push it Ran." He said quietly, the name usage deliberate. He wanted a fight, but he wanted to feel guiltless. Better to passively provoke until the proper response was attained.
"Don't call me Ran." Came the expected response. Two squabbling children.
"You're not the first person who's ever lost someone. You're not the first one to have to suffer through some difficulties to rectify a situation that pains you personally." Youji dropped all pretences of actual, helpful medical attention. "You just make the most theatrical fuss about it. You just wind up making those most unassociated feel like shit because of it."
"Because I'm just an asshole and you've all led lives full of nothing but tragedy, right?" Aya snapped back, sarcastically. "What makes you the pious advocator then?"
Youji stood up, gripping Aya's upper arm so tightly his fingers sank into the flesh. "We all have bad things behind us. The rest of us get on with life as best as we can. You may be completely ignorant of all pasts but your own due to selective listening and observation, but I'm not as inverted and callous as you. Most people consider that a redeeming value. You want to bitch, think about Omi. All the people who he cared for lying to him, using him for their own ends, watching all the family he had die one by one. You think that's pleasant? Ken's not exactly the paragon of a sob-story poster-boy, but things aren't pleasant for him either. Loosing the career he loved, betrayal by his best friend. You think they don't' think about that every day? You think life's a laugh riot for them at all moments too? No. They just don't fucking whine about it as much as you do. Your problem isn't even dead yet, just missing."
Aya stood unsteadily, mouth hanging open. This wasn't the treatment he was used to. What happened to the usual deferring attitude? "And what about you? Are you too sanctimonious to whine? I may not give a shit about other people's problems, may do my best to forget they exist, but where is the whining that should accompany your contrived misery?" The shower certainly wasn't the place he'd expected this sort of argument to start up. It seemed almost ridiculous, arguing about who had the most right to whine while they stood there, exhausted, dripping and naked. Ridiculous or not, that didn't mean he was going to back down. Pride had to be considered, after all.
There was a moment of almost painful silence. Youji looked down, mouth twisting as he tried to refrain from saying things, from lashing out physically, from saying anything he'd regret. More silence as he tried to formulate the right things in his mind. This was nothing he wanted to think about. Coping meant forgiving and forgetting. His eyes closed hopelessly. He was no more willing to talk about things dead and gone than Aya was. She was gone and he wouldn't filthy her memories by dragging them into this pointless argument, treading across treasured memories of smiles and laughter.
"Forget it Aya. You're right. Your life is so hard. None of us mere mortals could ever comprehend your suffering. Forgive my impertinence." For a few overwhelming seconds the knot in his throat tightened and he thought he was going to have to cry, too strung out by events to cope. The sensation passed. It usually did. He shrugged and knelt to resume a gentler disentangling of the sodden bandage.
"Youji?"
"I'll get the top layer of our skin clean and as long as your leg isn't still bleeding copiously we can switch things to a bath so you won't have to stand any longer." Youji announced in a false, bright tone. It even grated on his nerves. It was better than thinking about things and getting all choked up again. A relationship of convenience such as theirs needed no real emotions thrown into the mix. As comfortable as things were, he'd forgotten it was all supposed to be a temporary fix. Not a mistake he was going to make again for a very long while.
"Youji?" Aya asked again, hesitant.
"That's my name, don't wear it out." He smiled, baring his teeth, regretting even the consideration of baring his soul. His past was his own. It was an established knowledge by this point that no one wanted to think about. It was better that way. He removed the last bits of once white gauze and made Aya step out of the spray, pale hands on his shoulders for balance. "This is not good at all. I hope Omi's doing better, because someone needs to do something about this mess." The bullet holes were mostly crusted over by sickly yellow scabs, the underside of the bandage-stained with all colors of bodily fluids. "Not good at all." He felt the skin around the wound, unsure what to make of the differing textures, but knowing they couldn't be good, a hypothesis the heat radiating from Aya's skin helped to support.
"You waited up all night for me?" Aya's eyebrows drew together, expression puzzled. Another delayed reaction response. Maybe it really did take Aya longer to process things than other people when it didn't involve him. "Why?"
"I don't know." Youji answered, voicing an almost hysterical laugh. "I think a bath would be a bad idea right now. I need five more minutes to get that crap out of my hair, and then we'll stagger back downstairs and see what can be done about that infection." He changed tracks.
"I'm sorry." Aya said again, sounding like he meant it this time. Youji didn't know if he honestly cared anymore.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Facial masks are weird, aren't they? They're all cold and tingly when they're drying, and then you can't move your goddamned face! What would I do without my mushy, tubed friends? -hugs facial mask tubes- Gah. Give me happy e-mails! Darkhunter@ijustdontcare.com or akainobaka@mchsi.com ! -hugs random people- WOOT WOOT!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Frantic didn't begin to describe the state of panic Ken found himself in. It had been eight hours since his last phone conversation with Youji. They were picking them off, one by one. First by luring Aya out with his sister, then by luring Youji out with Aya. An incessant line of creatures swallowed by the old woman of a similarly themed song. A continuous death trap. Ken was going to have to go out looking for Youji soon, and if Ken didn't find himself whisked away to the unknown netherworlds, then Omi would be gone when he returned, and they'd use Omi as the final piece of bait. Hopeless.
He'd been force-feeding Omi tea laden with painkillers whenever he could keep Omi awake long enough to swallow anything. It was better, he supposed, being burdened with the task of worrying. He was an asshole, deserving of whatever problems came his way; better Omi should sleep through the troublesome bits. Eight hours and no phone call. He hadn't woken up to a phone call during the while he'd been sleeping, and the phone in their room was loud enough it wasn't a matter of sleeping through the call. He'd hurled the thing at enough walls due to rude morning awakenings that it was a surprise the machine still worked at all.
Ken puttered about, trying to keep his mind focused on other things. He made soup from scratch, something full of cheese and potatoes, keeping it heated until such a time provided itself that he could make Omi eat that as well. He used Omi's computer to fish about on the Internet for past issues concerning their invisible foe, Ko-ishi, searching for someone who would take up his name, his men. Omi woke up and he dragged him downstairs for some company, groggy and cranky as it might be. Still no phone call.
Omi fell asleep on the couch, curled up in a shivering ball. Ken felt even more insensitive and ran upstairs to get a blanket for him. Of course, the downstairs front door had to come flying open right as his foot hit the top stair, leaving him too far away from Omi to protect him.
Ken charged back down the stairs, strapping the gloves he'd had with him for the past eight hours, worry leading to paranoia. Sometimes the paranoid really are being stalked. Or at least are really being slaughtered one by one. He lunged at the oddly hunched figures lumbering awkwardly through the door, turning his claws away at the last moment, turning what would have been a killing blow into a stunning one.
"Fuck you too, Ken!" Youji spat at him from the ground, holding a hand up to his aching jaw in the dim light. While Ken tried not to have a heart attack from the combined relief and delayed reaction shock, a slight figure skipped past him. "What a dump." It intoned in an accented alto before turning and hauling the sprawled form of Aya up from the ground, mindful not to get too much of the reeking muck splattered across his body on her own clothing.
"Help me get the crazy one somewhere he can lie down; he's on his last legs and he won't keep going for much longer. I don't fancy burying any bodies tonight. I'm already tired." The equally filthy woman kicked Youji in the leg. "Get up, lazy man."
Youji used the hand not covering his sore ribs to push himself up. "Bitch." He commented in an offhand manner.
"Where the fuck have you been? Why didn't you call? What happened? Is Aya okay? Who the fuck is she? What is that god awful stench?" Ken spluttered out the first set of questions that came to mind.
"If the blonde one on the couch is as stupid as the rest of you appear to be, I'm going to leave you to your own devices." The woman informed him.
"And good fucking riddance!" Youji snapped as he shouldered the full weight of Aya's half-limp body. "I got sidetracked. I had to wander around the fucking sewers for who knows how many fucking hours and now we all fucking reek of shit and whatever the fuck was floating around down there! I'm going to do my best to get all that muck off Aya and then I'm taking a goddamned shower and you, bitch, can just wait your fucking turn. If you can't wait, we have a hose outside." He half walked, half dragged a glassy eyed, somewhat confused looking Aya up the stairs.
It was a hard trip up the stairs, reminiscent-in a strange sort of way-of the last stumbling trip he remembered making up a flight of stairs with Aya. Only that time they'd been trying to take it into a bedroom before things got publicly unacceptable in the hallway. Granted, they hadn't been covered with human waste or blood at the time either, and Aya had actually been conscious enough of his surroundings to enjoy the whole thing.
Aya tried to head for their bedroom, weakly striking out from Youji's supporting shoulder.
"I think not! You get that crap on the bed, I'm never sleeping there again! C'mon Aya, walkies, waaaalllkies. We're going walkies over to the bathrooooom." Youji practiced his own brand of idiocy while he dragged a resisting Aya further down the hall. Shit did NOT wash out of silk sheets very well, as far as he knew, and quite frankly, he didn't feel like experimenting in the matter firsthand.
With the bathroom door shut behind them, the stench started to become noticeable. "Who'd have ever thought wading through the underbelly of the city could be so decidedly unglamorous. You only see food color water down there in the movies." Youji complained.
Aya sighed heavily. "Youji, they flush the contents of their toilets down there, where is it exactly you think it goes to? Is there supposed to be a special section for the less appealing bits of human waste to go?" His head sagged down to his chest even as he countered Youji's whining. The weariness appeared to generate equally from mental and physical exertion.
"Someone's been down there, I saw signs of other people. There must be a nicer section they've found so they don't have to go wading every time they want to visit the surface. I have to go back." Aya tried to stand on his own again, stumbling down to one knee.
"Okay, we'll go back later, when I manage to get you clean enough that we can take a look at your leg." Youji soothingly told him, not even ready to tackle the concept of dealing with that annoying "Fate" bitch and her bizarre reasons until Aya was taken care of.
Aya gave the tub a dauting look. "I can't rest now, I have to find Aya." His face said he physically wanted to do anything BUT; worn out to the point of collapsing. "The next move will be revealed soon, and I need to be ready for whatever comes our way."
"Aya."
He looked over, eyes slanted.
"Don't give me that obsessive bullshit right now. I may not be as tired as you are, but I did stay up all fucking night, worrying what sort of trouble you'd been stupid enough to get into this time, and I did go following after you, wandering through the same miles of sewage that you did. All I want right now is to be clean and perhaps to get a nap in. Because of Fate's presence, that last option appears to be out for me, so I'm warning you now, if you get in the way of bathing, your ass IS grass."
"Damnit, Youji. She's all I have left now. She's my life. They took her away. Am I supposed to just give up and do nothing? I HAVE to do something. Life helps those who help themselves. She's all I have left and she's gone, and there has to be something I can do about that. I don't want to be hindered now. Right befor me, the sum of my life is missing in action."
"It's nice to know I'm appreciated around here." Youji said flatly, flipping the toilet seat down and dumping Aya onto it, filthy clothes and all. He turned to start the hot water, gingerly peeling off his clothing. Literally peeling them off. Sometimes he hated all the things that went along with their career of choice. Sometimes he hated all the people who came along with the title too.
"I'm sorry Youji." Aya apologized, not sounding like he meant it in the slightest. He contemplated the crusted mess his shoelaces had become and decided sitting and doing nothing would be preferable. There was a surprisingly large bloodstain across his leg. He poked at the center of it all, rewarded with a sharp brittle pain that spread up his side for a moment. Delightful.
Youji started in on his pants, biting his lower lip as fabric and skin made a messy separation, skinned from numerous falls on cinder brick. In the background he could hear Aya talking, pointless things, trying to sound apologetic for things he didn't even understand himself. Youji ignored him. It was a cultivated talent, he'd discovered.
"You're supposed to take your shoes off before your pants." Aya informed him helpfully as Youji discovered he was somewhat stuck. Youji rectified the problem, finally managing to strip down to his skin. He frowned at the mottled dried patterns on his skin, greenish brown patches that looked like odd tattoos or pain mottling. It wasn't so bad as long as one didn't think about what those dried smears were really constituted of.
He switched the water to shower flow once it had been adjusted to a suitable temperature.
"I can't stand up again right now." Another baleful remark, grudgingly this time. Aya realized he wasn't going to receive assistance and tried to lean over to undo the sodden boots rubbing his feet raw. The resulting lightheadedness almost sent him head over heels. Youji frowned and knelt to remove Aya's shoes. It felt too much of servitude to be kneeling at Aya's feet directly after having been informed he didn't even count as an important facet of Aya's life.
They probably made a bizarre sight, swaying unsteadily on tired feet as they struggled to get Aya out of his firmly plastered on clothing. Youji worked on being as silent, cold and impersonal as he could. It was unsure whether or not Aya noticed, his own behavior naturally being similar.
Youji's shaky hand pushed back the shower curtain. "Ladies first." He intoned mockingly. Aya frowned.
Taking turns under the spray, Youji wound up alternately supporting either side of Aya, using up his rapidly dwindling energy stores. He didn't bother warning Aya before he went to work on the horrendous bandage on his leg. The longer gash had healed closed, but he could see the red lines of infection spreading up pale skin even before he'd managed to find the end of the staunching fabric. Aya gripped the washcloth bar, both to support himself and to try to divert some of the pain he pretended not to feel.
"You don't have to be such an asshole." Aya gritted out after a particularly ungentle tug at the hopelessly snarled and crusted material.
Youji looked up, water running down the unforgiving planes of his face, damp hair subdued to darker, clumped spirals. "Don't push it Ran." He said quietly, the name usage deliberate. He wanted a fight, but he wanted to feel guiltless. Better to passively provoke until the proper response was attained.
"Don't call me Ran." Came the expected response. Two squabbling children.
"You're not the first person who's ever lost someone. You're not the first one to have to suffer through some difficulties to rectify a situation that pains you personally." Youji dropped all pretences of actual, helpful medical attention. "You just make the most theatrical fuss about it. You just wind up making those most unassociated feel like shit because of it."
"Because I'm just an asshole and you've all led lives full of nothing but tragedy, right?" Aya snapped back, sarcastically. "What makes you the pious advocator then?"
Youji stood up, gripping Aya's upper arm so tightly his fingers sank into the flesh. "We all have bad things behind us. The rest of us get on with life as best as we can. You may be completely ignorant of all pasts but your own due to selective listening and observation, but I'm not as inverted and callous as you. Most people consider that a redeeming value. You want to bitch, think about Omi. All the people who he cared for lying to him, using him for their own ends, watching all the family he had die one by one. You think that's pleasant? Ken's not exactly the paragon of a sob-story poster-boy, but things aren't pleasant for him either. Loosing the career he loved, betrayal by his best friend. You think they don't' think about that every day? You think life's a laugh riot for them at all moments too? No. They just don't fucking whine about it as much as you do. Your problem isn't even dead yet, just missing."
Aya stood unsteadily, mouth hanging open. This wasn't the treatment he was used to. What happened to the usual deferring attitude? "And what about you? Are you too sanctimonious to whine? I may not give a shit about other people's problems, may do my best to forget they exist, but where is the whining that should accompany your contrived misery?" The shower certainly wasn't the place he'd expected this sort of argument to start up. It seemed almost ridiculous, arguing about who had the most right to whine while they stood there, exhausted, dripping and naked. Ridiculous or not, that didn't mean he was going to back down. Pride had to be considered, after all.
There was a moment of almost painful silence. Youji looked down, mouth twisting as he tried to refrain from saying things, from lashing out physically, from saying anything he'd regret. More silence as he tried to formulate the right things in his mind. This was nothing he wanted to think about. Coping meant forgiving and forgetting. His eyes closed hopelessly. He was no more willing to talk about things dead and gone than Aya was. She was gone and he wouldn't filthy her memories by dragging them into this pointless argument, treading across treasured memories of smiles and laughter.
"Forget it Aya. You're right. Your life is so hard. None of us mere mortals could ever comprehend your suffering. Forgive my impertinence." For a few overwhelming seconds the knot in his throat tightened and he thought he was going to have to cry, too strung out by events to cope. The sensation passed. It usually did. He shrugged and knelt to resume a gentler disentangling of the sodden bandage.
"Youji?"
"I'll get the top layer of our skin clean and as long as your leg isn't still bleeding copiously we can switch things to a bath so you won't have to stand any longer." Youji announced in a false, bright tone. It even grated on his nerves. It was better than thinking about things and getting all choked up again. A relationship of convenience such as theirs needed no real emotions thrown into the mix. As comfortable as things were, he'd forgotten it was all supposed to be a temporary fix. Not a mistake he was going to make again for a very long while.
"Youji?" Aya asked again, hesitant.
"That's my name, don't wear it out." He smiled, baring his teeth, regretting even the consideration of baring his soul. His past was his own. It was an established knowledge by this point that no one wanted to think about. It was better that way. He removed the last bits of once white gauze and made Aya step out of the spray, pale hands on his shoulders for balance. "This is not good at all. I hope Omi's doing better, because someone needs to do something about this mess." The bullet holes were mostly crusted over by sickly yellow scabs, the underside of the bandage-stained with all colors of bodily fluids. "Not good at all." He felt the skin around the wound, unsure what to make of the differing textures, but knowing they couldn't be good, a hypothesis the heat radiating from Aya's skin helped to support.
"You waited up all night for me?" Aya's eyebrows drew together, expression puzzled. Another delayed reaction response. Maybe it really did take Aya longer to process things than other people when it didn't involve him. "Why?"
"I don't know." Youji answered, voicing an almost hysterical laugh. "I think a bath would be a bad idea right now. I need five more minutes to get that crap out of my hair, and then we'll stagger back downstairs and see what can be done about that infection." He changed tracks.
"I'm sorry." Aya said again, sounding like he meant it this time. Youji didn't know if he honestly cared anymore.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Facial masks are weird, aren't they? They're all cold and tingly when they're drying, and then you can't move your goddamned face! What would I do without my mushy, tubed friends? -hugs facial mask tubes- Gah. Give me happy e-mails! Darkhunter@ijustdontcare.com or akainobaka@mchsi.com ! -hugs random people- WOOT WOOT!