Wooo hoo. I'm always amazed when I find the attention span to write yet one more chapter instead of running away to the land of magic cheesy sticks and raising a family of uhm... things. Wait, what was I talking about again? Ooo, cheesy sticks. -drools-
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The ride home hours later was terse and wary. Ken drove their remaining vehicle, taking many a scenic route to prevent Ko-Ishi from tailing them in the odd event he hadn't found their new home yet. Chances were, he not only knew where their house was, but had gone and wired the foundation with explosives while they'd been out. Maybe this time he wouldn't be nice enough to warn them to leave the building before detonation.
The car Aya had driven off in was parked stolidly in the middle of the driveway. One less problem, Youji hoped. If Ko-Ishi had both Ayas, then everything was basically fucked. There would be no day of reckoning because Weiss would simply fall apart. Youji couldn't help but cross his fingers as he pushed open the door.
"Aya?" Omi called, doing what Youji's miffed pride could not. It was too much like a 'honey I'm home' greeting, and he refused to play any roles not predetermined by himself. "Where are you?"
The cause of concern faded out of the darkness of the den, framed by the gloomy doorway like any gothic wastrel's dream Kodak Moment, all pale skin and artful shadows. "Here." What might have been a slight, sardonic grin played about his lips.
"Aya?" Omi's tone changed as he picked up on something Youji couldn't fathom right off the bat. "Aya, are you drunk?"
"Yes." Not the slightest bit chagrined by the accusation, not showing any signs of shame. Youji wondered at his monosyllabic answers more than the unusual scene of a drunken Aya.
"Ko-Ishi:3, Us:Zip." Ken shouldered past Omi and Youji, angry. "He blew up Cobarde's house, while we were still in it. And he called Youji on the phone; he's playing some sort of game."
"Yes." Aya complacently agreed yet again, beyond not paying attention.
"Youji gave you the only copies of the few files salvaged from this new mess. Where are they?"
"The kitchen table." And with this contribution, Aya turned and retreated back into the black solitude of the living room, reseating himself on the couch, hoping no one would follow him. Wish granted.
In the kitchen they squabbled over who would deal with what. All of them wanted "Fujimiya, Aya" or "Fujimiya, Ran". None of them wanted Ko-Ishi's file. It would be too disheartening.
"Fine! I read this then. You too afraid to see real truth." Fate snatched up their nemesis's compiled records. "Is nothing I don't know already."
"You don't like reading anyway, Youji!" Omi stuck out his lower lip. "Why change now? Look, there are two left, and our curiosities are insatiable. Why don't you go see what's wrong with Aya, and Ken and I will tell you the short version of what we find?"
Youji frowned. "Ignoring the implication that I'm a stupid dolt, I'll accept that as a solution for now." He crossed the room, staring into the living room, watching the glint of glass in darkness as Aya continued to dose himself with Youji's favorite cure-all.
"This is unexpected." Youji carefully made his way across the room, feeling ahead with his toes before moving his whole body to follow. He was finished falling over things for today. "Do you have any left to share?" He'd better! That was Youji's liquor stock he was depleting. It had to be. Aya probably couldn't find his way to a liquor store if there were neon signs lining the streets with explicit instructions and big gaudy arrows pointing the way.
There was an audible slosh as Aya brandished his glass too quickly, spilling liquid onto the floor. "I'm done now. You can have it." His words aren't slurred, but the cadence is off, different from his usual measured tones.
Sighing, Youji retrieved the glass, swishing the amber colored liquid around. He took a sip and grimaced. "How much of this stuff have you put away?" He shrugged and drained the remaining inches in the glass, figuring he could use a bit of a bracer himself. Reaching into his pocket, Youji placed the cell phone on the coffee table between them.
"So, I've got to ask. What's going on?" Youji turned, resting his palm on Aya's knee, squeezing denim-clad flesh. "I thought you loathed liquor."
Aya looked up, eyes bleary. "I loathe myself." He reached for the black labeled bottle again, frown creasing his forehead as he realized it was empty. Youji jumped as the glass shattered against the farthest wall.
"Youji?" Ken peeped around the door way, concerned.
Youji flapped his hand in the direction of the kitchen and turned his attention back to Aya. "I definitely think you've had enough to drink, kiddo. Want to tell me what's going on now?"
Aya twisted the empty glass in his hands, rubbing the raised ridges. For a moment he considered hurling it against the wall as well, just for the violence of the sound. Everything was wrong. She was still gone, and he was useless. He couldn't even look for her, for his life, limping and useless. There was nothing else that mattered and he couldn't do it himself, and he couldn't rely on anyone else. What was there left to feel but a deep and bitter loathing for the person he'd become?
"Aya?" Youji shifted a little bit closer, trying to make out a facial expression in the twilight. "Ba-Aya, I don't know what's wrong. I cannot read minds. Tell me you remember having this discussion numerous times before this, please. I can't read your thoughts. I don't know what's going on except for what you tell me." He'd almost slipped up there. It was hard not to whip out unwelcome endearing names when he was trying to reason with Aya, but it would be harder to take back if he was caught. Tenderness was nothing something expected or welcomed in this relationship, and he had to keep that in mind.
"Ko-Ishi called you?" He looked up, proving he'd been listening a little bit at least. "On that phone." When Youji nodded he frowned again. "Couldn't you do a call trace, and find out where it came from."
"This is fucking Ko-Ishi we're talking about! Do you think he'd be stupid enough to just pick up his fucking home phone and dial my cell? If he's even half as evil as Fate tells us, we're in a shit load of trouble, because he is one crafty son of a bitch."
"What did he want?"
"He wants us all to suffer. That's his gimmick. He doesn't really want anything specific. That would make it all easier. Chaos, suffering, pain, despair. Those are his only goals." That and the reclaiming of his new favorite play toy, Youji Kudou. There was something worth keeping to himself.
"Is that what he told you?" Aya dipped his finger into a small spill of liquor and doodled circles, attention waning when his sister didn't come into the conversation. Listless. He started pacing, awkward gait only serving to further grate on his nerves. Youji didn't bother to reply, knowing he didn't really care either way.
"Fuck this. Aya, if you're just going to mope and pace, I'm going elsewhere until you're actually willing to accept my help or offer some of your own."
Aya shrugged, lost in contemplation. After Youji stomped out of the room, he reclaimed the couch, sprawled out, caught up in his spiral of depression. No one could possibly understand why this was so horrible. It wasn't his sister being gone. It wasn't an adversary back from the dead. It was the hopelessness of it all. It was his problem, and he couldn't solve it. He was too busy beating himself up, or falling down when his weakness betrayed him.
The silence of the living room amplified the sounds throughout the house several times. He listened to the muted tones of discussion from the kitchen, catching inflection, but none of the words. He wished he had the guts to join them, to ask Youji to come back and talk to him. Instead, he planned on heading back upstairs and seeing what else Youji had stockpiled in the spare bedroom. How drunk could he get before he started throwing up. That was the question for the evening.
His brooding was disturbed by the soft melody of Youji's cellular phone, forgotten on the table. He picked it up, face lit by the soft blue glow of the screen, reading the expected 'unknown caller' message. On impulse, he opted to answer the phone, anything to break this existence. Perhaps he'd find an excuse to rejoin his teammates in the kitchen without a sacrifice of pride.
"Yes?" Quite and toneless as he waited, torn between hurrying to the kitchen and retreating upstairs with the phone, waiting for his final deciding factor.
"Ah, Mr. Fujimiya, I presume. Delightful. Are you screening calls this evening?"
Definitely the stairs. "Tell me where my sister is." It wasn't an inquiry; it was a demand.
"Concise and to the point. I knew there was a reason I liked you."
"Where is Aya?"
"I can't tell you where she is now, of course, but I can certainly tell you where she'll be."
"I'm waiting." Waiting for some threat, or taunt.
"At the old burnt flower shop you used to inhabit, around one o' clock in the evening, exactly seven days from now. If you bring that lovely blonde creature of yours, that is. I'd be willing to arrange a trade. He has something that I want."
Trade Youji for Aya? He shouldn't be torn, because both were unacceptable. He should discard Youji, to preserve his way of life, to protect his sister until she awoke again. He should protect Youji, the only living, breathing, talking, caring being left that mattered to him now. Both were acceptable losses. He'd given up everything for Aya, and Youji was still just a convenient fuck, right? Youji could take more of Ko-Ishi and his sadistic delights until he could be traced and rescued, but could Aya really do that to him, someone who'd stood by him and stood up for him times uncounted. Two different options presented themselves, both saying he shouldn't even be considering the other.
"Your silence annoys me. Should I pack her baggage?" A slight laugh. "Or should I simply slit her throat as we speak? She wouldn't feel a thing, I assure you. As dead inside her own mind as you will be if you don't cooperate. Give him to me, and I'll return your corpse of a sister."
"I'll have to think about it."
"Because if you take too long, I'll go after him myself, and you'll lose both. I'll be in touch." The tinny click signaled the end of a disturbing conversation.
"Hey, Aya, where'd you disappear to?" Youji's voice echoed up the stairs from the living room, a tad hesitant.
Aya turned the phone off, gently placing it in it's charging cradle, painfully sober now.
"I'm upstairs."
"Are you okay? I'm sorry; I'll come up if you want. We don't have to talk or anything... just if you wanted the company, you know, I'm here."
"That won't be necessary."
A defeated sight that he probably wasn't meant to hear made its way down the hallway, tracing the same path Youji's spoken words had flown. Something in the pit of his stomach twisted for a moment, before remembering the role it was required to play and settling back into the dull nothingness he was supposed to feel. He turned and sat on the edge of their bed, still in the total darkness that did little to improve his outlook. It was more suitable to the decisions he would be forced to contemplate.
"So, he's drunk and he's just blowing it all off for now?" Ken turned in his chair as Youji huffed around the kitchen, interfering with the studious atmosphere in general. "Why can't he do that with the things that really don't matter? We should get him drunk some time when we AREN'T all going to die." He was mostly joking.
"Yeah, whatever. So, what are you finding out? Help me out here, O Hogger of Files of Importance?" Youji tried not to jitter, some of Aya's earlier listlessness having rubbed off on him.
Ken and Omi exchanged Evil Grins across the table. "Actually, we're not going to tell you."
"What the fuck?" Youji made a snatch for the closest stack of papers only to be thwarted by Omi's reflexes, a notch or two above his at the end of a long, tiring day.
"Yup. You're sleeping with the guy, you should find out from him." A deceptively sweet and innocent smile from the golden boy. Youji wasn't sure whether or not Omi was truly serious.
"That's hardly fair." A hint of a whine creeping in. There had to be something to make this day bearable. What next? A phone call from Ko-Ishi to Aya, outlining his previous plan? Why did that implausible concept send a shiver of trepidation down his spine? Oh shit! He'd forgotten the phone in the living room. "I'll be right back."
It wasn't on the table, where it rightly should be. He'd have to brave Aya's wrath after all. Carefully silent going up the stairs, just in case Aya had decided to get some sleep, or pass out as his alcohol tolerance dictated. Dark still, no candles or lamps lit to shed light on the situation.
"Aya?"
"Hmm?" Soft, but not slurred with sleep.
"Where did my phone go?" Resting his palm against the wood of the doorway, waiting for an answer, Youji wondered at the almost guilty feel of the pause that ensues.
"It's charging." Aya finally allowed.
"Aya, are you all right?"
"No."
"Are you sure you don't want to talk?"
"Yes."
"Goodnight."
Youji tread heavily down the stairs back to the kitchen, trying to warm himself with the cheerful presences waiting for him there.
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Will my sadism NEVER end? Will I rest before completely destroying any and all happiness for the lovely boys of Weiss?? Prolly, but it wouldn't hurt to prepare yourselves for MUCH angst in the future! Woot Woot for angst!!!! Woot woot for foreshadowing!!! WOOT WOOOOOOOT -explodes in a cloud of feathers!- E-mail me at akainobaka@mchsi.com or darkhunter@ijustdontcare.com !!! E-MAIL ME OR GIVE ME FEEDBACK... OR DIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!! Woot! ^_^
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The ride home hours later was terse and wary. Ken drove their remaining vehicle, taking many a scenic route to prevent Ko-Ishi from tailing them in the odd event he hadn't found their new home yet. Chances were, he not only knew where their house was, but had gone and wired the foundation with explosives while they'd been out. Maybe this time he wouldn't be nice enough to warn them to leave the building before detonation.
The car Aya had driven off in was parked stolidly in the middle of the driveway. One less problem, Youji hoped. If Ko-Ishi had both Ayas, then everything was basically fucked. There would be no day of reckoning because Weiss would simply fall apart. Youji couldn't help but cross his fingers as he pushed open the door.
"Aya?" Omi called, doing what Youji's miffed pride could not. It was too much like a 'honey I'm home' greeting, and he refused to play any roles not predetermined by himself. "Where are you?"
The cause of concern faded out of the darkness of the den, framed by the gloomy doorway like any gothic wastrel's dream Kodak Moment, all pale skin and artful shadows. "Here." What might have been a slight, sardonic grin played about his lips.
"Aya?" Omi's tone changed as he picked up on something Youji couldn't fathom right off the bat. "Aya, are you drunk?"
"Yes." Not the slightest bit chagrined by the accusation, not showing any signs of shame. Youji wondered at his monosyllabic answers more than the unusual scene of a drunken Aya.
"Ko-Ishi:3, Us:Zip." Ken shouldered past Omi and Youji, angry. "He blew up Cobarde's house, while we were still in it. And he called Youji on the phone; he's playing some sort of game."
"Yes." Aya complacently agreed yet again, beyond not paying attention.
"Youji gave you the only copies of the few files salvaged from this new mess. Where are they?"
"The kitchen table." And with this contribution, Aya turned and retreated back into the black solitude of the living room, reseating himself on the couch, hoping no one would follow him. Wish granted.
In the kitchen they squabbled over who would deal with what. All of them wanted "Fujimiya, Aya" or "Fujimiya, Ran". None of them wanted Ko-Ishi's file. It would be too disheartening.
"Fine! I read this then. You too afraid to see real truth." Fate snatched up their nemesis's compiled records. "Is nothing I don't know already."
"You don't like reading anyway, Youji!" Omi stuck out his lower lip. "Why change now? Look, there are two left, and our curiosities are insatiable. Why don't you go see what's wrong with Aya, and Ken and I will tell you the short version of what we find?"
Youji frowned. "Ignoring the implication that I'm a stupid dolt, I'll accept that as a solution for now." He crossed the room, staring into the living room, watching the glint of glass in darkness as Aya continued to dose himself with Youji's favorite cure-all.
"This is unexpected." Youji carefully made his way across the room, feeling ahead with his toes before moving his whole body to follow. He was finished falling over things for today. "Do you have any left to share?" He'd better! That was Youji's liquor stock he was depleting. It had to be. Aya probably couldn't find his way to a liquor store if there were neon signs lining the streets with explicit instructions and big gaudy arrows pointing the way.
There was an audible slosh as Aya brandished his glass too quickly, spilling liquid onto the floor. "I'm done now. You can have it." His words aren't slurred, but the cadence is off, different from his usual measured tones.
Sighing, Youji retrieved the glass, swishing the amber colored liquid around. He took a sip and grimaced. "How much of this stuff have you put away?" He shrugged and drained the remaining inches in the glass, figuring he could use a bit of a bracer himself. Reaching into his pocket, Youji placed the cell phone on the coffee table between them.
"So, I've got to ask. What's going on?" Youji turned, resting his palm on Aya's knee, squeezing denim-clad flesh. "I thought you loathed liquor."
Aya looked up, eyes bleary. "I loathe myself." He reached for the black labeled bottle again, frown creasing his forehead as he realized it was empty. Youji jumped as the glass shattered against the farthest wall.
"Youji?" Ken peeped around the door way, concerned.
Youji flapped his hand in the direction of the kitchen and turned his attention back to Aya. "I definitely think you've had enough to drink, kiddo. Want to tell me what's going on now?"
Aya twisted the empty glass in his hands, rubbing the raised ridges. For a moment he considered hurling it against the wall as well, just for the violence of the sound. Everything was wrong. She was still gone, and he was useless. He couldn't even look for her, for his life, limping and useless. There was nothing else that mattered and he couldn't do it himself, and he couldn't rely on anyone else. What was there left to feel but a deep and bitter loathing for the person he'd become?
"Aya?" Youji shifted a little bit closer, trying to make out a facial expression in the twilight. "Ba-Aya, I don't know what's wrong. I cannot read minds. Tell me you remember having this discussion numerous times before this, please. I can't read your thoughts. I don't know what's going on except for what you tell me." He'd almost slipped up there. It was hard not to whip out unwelcome endearing names when he was trying to reason with Aya, but it would be harder to take back if he was caught. Tenderness was nothing something expected or welcomed in this relationship, and he had to keep that in mind.
"Ko-Ishi called you?" He looked up, proving he'd been listening a little bit at least. "On that phone." When Youji nodded he frowned again. "Couldn't you do a call trace, and find out where it came from."
"This is fucking Ko-Ishi we're talking about! Do you think he'd be stupid enough to just pick up his fucking home phone and dial my cell? If he's even half as evil as Fate tells us, we're in a shit load of trouble, because he is one crafty son of a bitch."
"What did he want?"
"He wants us all to suffer. That's his gimmick. He doesn't really want anything specific. That would make it all easier. Chaos, suffering, pain, despair. Those are his only goals." That and the reclaiming of his new favorite play toy, Youji Kudou. There was something worth keeping to himself.
"Is that what he told you?" Aya dipped his finger into a small spill of liquor and doodled circles, attention waning when his sister didn't come into the conversation. Listless. He started pacing, awkward gait only serving to further grate on his nerves. Youji didn't bother to reply, knowing he didn't really care either way.
"Fuck this. Aya, if you're just going to mope and pace, I'm going elsewhere until you're actually willing to accept my help or offer some of your own."
Aya shrugged, lost in contemplation. After Youji stomped out of the room, he reclaimed the couch, sprawled out, caught up in his spiral of depression. No one could possibly understand why this was so horrible. It wasn't his sister being gone. It wasn't an adversary back from the dead. It was the hopelessness of it all. It was his problem, and he couldn't solve it. He was too busy beating himself up, or falling down when his weakness betrayed him.
The silence of the living room amplified the sounds throughout the house several times. He listened to the muted tones of discussion from the kitchen, catching inflection, but none of the words. He wished he had the guts to join them, to ask Youji to come back and talk to him. Instead, he planned on heading back upstairs and seeing what else Youji had stockpiled in the spare bedroom. How drunk could he get before he started throwing up. That was the question for the evening.
His brooding was disturbed by the soft melody of Youji's cellular phone, forgotten on the table. He picked it up, face lit by the soft blue glow of the screen, reading the expected 'unknown caller' message. On impulse, he opted to answer the phone, anything to break this existence. Perhaps he'd find an excuse to rejoin his teammates in the kitchen without a sacrifice of pride.
"Yes?" Quite and toneless as he waited, torn between hurrying to the kitchen and retreating upstairs with the phone, waiting for his final deciding factor.
"Ah, Mr. Fujimiya, I presume. Delightful. Are you screening calls this evening?"
Definitely the stairs. "Tell me where my sister is." It wasn't an inquiry; it was a demand.
"Concise and to the point. I knew there was a reason I liked you."
"Where is Aya?"
"I can't tell you where she is now, of course, but I can certainly tell you where she'll be."
"I'm waiting." Waiting for some threat, or taunt.
"At the old burnt flower shop you used to inhabit, around one o' clock in the evening, exactly seven days from now. If you bring that lovely blonde creature of yours, that is. I'd be willing to arrange a trade. He has something that I want."
Trade Youji for Aya? He shouldn't be torn, because both were unacceptable. He should discard Youji, to preserve his way of life, to protect his sister until she awoke again. He should protect Youji, the only living, breathing, talking, caring being left that mattered to him now. Both were acceptable losses. He'd given up everything for Aya, and Youji was still just a convenient fuck, right? Youji could take more of Ko-Ishi and his sadistic delights until he could be traced and rescued, but could Aya really do that to him, someone who'd stood by him and stood up for him times uncounted. Two different options presented themselves, both saying he shouldn't even be considering the other.
"Your silence annoys me. Should I pack her baggage?" A slight laugh. "Or should I simply slit her throat as we speak? She wouldn't feel a thing, I assure you. As dead inside her own mind as you will be if you don't cooperate. Give him to me, and I'll return your corpse of a sister."
"I'll have to think about it."
"Because if you take too long, I'll go after him myself, and you'll lose both. I'll be in touch." The tinny click signaled the end of a disturbing conversation.
"Hey, Aya, where'd you disappear to?" Youji's voice echoed up the stairs from the living room, a tad hesitant.
Aya turned the phone off, gently placing it in it's charging cradle, painfully sober now.
"I'm upstairs."
"Are you okay? I'm sorry; I'll come up if you want. We don't have to talk or anything... just if you wanted the company, you know, I'm here."
"That won't be necessary."
A defeated sight that he probably wasn't meant to hear made its way down the hallway, tracing the same path Youji's spoken words had flown. Something in the pit of his stomach twisted for a moment, before remembering the role it was required to play and settling back into the dull nothingness he was supposed to feel. He turned and sat on the edge of their bed, still in the total darkness that did little to improve his outlook. It was more suitable to the decisions he would be forced to contemplate.
"So, he's drunk and he's just blowing it all off for now?" Ken turned in his chair as Youji huffed around the kitchen, interfering with the studious atmosphere in general. "Why can't he do that with the things that really don't matter? We should get him drunk some time when we AREN'T all going to die." He was mostly joking.
"Yeah, whatever. So, what are you finding out? Help me out here, O Hogger of Files of Importance?" Youji tried not to jitter, some of Aya's earlier listlessness having rubbed off on him.
Ken and Omi exchanged Evil Grins across the table. "Actually, we're not going to tell you."
"What the fuck?" Youji made a snatch for the closest stack of papers only to be thwarted by Omi's reflexes, a notch or two above his at the end of a long, tiring day.
"Yup. You're sleeping with the guy, you should find out from him." A deceptively sweet and innocent smile from the golden boy. Youji wasn't sure whether or not Omi was truly serious.
"That's hardly fair." A hint of a whine creeping in. There had to be something to make this day bearable. What next? A phone call from Ko-Ishi to Aya, outlining his previous plan? Why did that implausible concept send a shiver of trepidation down his spine? Oh shit! He'd forgotten the phone in the living room. "I'll be right back."
It wasn't on the table, where it rightly should be. He'd have to brave Aya's wrath after all. Carefully silent going up the stairs, just in case Aya had decided to get some sleep, or pass out as his alcohol tolerance dictated. Dark still, no candles or lamps lit to shed light on the situation.
"Aya?"
"Hmm?" Soft, but not slurred with sleep.
"Where did my phone go?" Resting his palm against the wood of the doorway, waiting for an answer, Youji wondered at the almost guilty feel of the pause that ensues.
"It's charging." Aya finally allowed.
"Aya, are you all right?"
"No."
"Are you sure you don't want to talk?"
"Yes."
"Goodnight."
Youji tread heavily down the stairs back to the kitchen, trying to warm himself with the cheerful presences waiting for him there.
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Will my sadism NEVER end? Will I rest before completely destroying any and all happiness for the lovely boys of Weiss?? Prolly, but it wouldn't hurt to prepare yourselves for MUCH angst in the future! Woot Woot for angst!!!! Woot woot for foreshadowing!!! WOOT WOOOOOOOT -explodes in a cloud of feathers!- E-mail me at akainobaka@mchsi.com or darkhunter@ijustdontcare.com !!! E-MAIL ME OR GIVE ME FEEDBACK... OR DIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!! Woot! ^_^