Author's Note-- ( 2:48 PM 5/23/2004 ) Wow. Long time no update. Eh heh... Sorry. (Note to self: Stop calling Ken 'the brunett'.) Be warned, though, the writing style is a bit different from the last three parts. This one is kind of the "serious" one. Not very pleased with it. Psch!
Un-beta'd, as always.
Word to the musically consumed-- This most of this chapter was written to the intoxicating sounds of Incubus "I Miss You".
Warnings-- Shounen ai (RanKen), OOC, Silliness... Etc. (There's also a badly written 80's music joke in here, that if you don't get it, it's not my fault.)
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An Eternal High 4/4
By Seph Lorraine
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10:36 -- Catchin' Some Z's and Selling Them To "Wheel of Fortune" Disguised As Vowels
Aya sighed into his pillow as he rolled to face the wall. He shut his eyes tightly to block out of the sun's blinding glare through the opened window at the other end of the room. He was tired, unfocused, and even a bit stressed.
He cursed himself for forgetting to shut the window when he went to bed.
The Koneko no Sumu Ie and the tidy living area on the floors above were silent, a good thing, as far as the redhead was concerned, yet also a vague sign that was beginning to worry him about other things. Ken had never been a quiet person-- even when sleeping[1], and his wakeful racket was enough to wake Beethoven from the grave. Yet the redhead still couldn't bring himself to get up, to close the window or check on his noisy team-mate.
Last night had been long and tiring, and his sleep had been much deserved. Violet eyes fluttered open for a moment, then clenched shut remembering it.
--
Ken had passed out and now hung limply in Aya's arms. Omi and Aya continued down the stairs, through the house, the shop, and down into the 'mission room', where they laid the ex-soccer player carefully on the couch. Two men had accompanied Manx to the Koneko, both dressed sharply in black business suits and sunglasses; identity precautions, no doubt (who else besides Youji and Corey Hart would wear sunglasses at night?).
The redhead paused as he stood straight and faced Manx and her two men, he and Omi still standing in the way of their downed teammate, "You've found the antidote?"
The first man, taller with slicked back black hair, and a stiff nose nodded, "Our research investigators examined details, found samples, and carefully put together an antidote that should be able to restore Siberian to normalcy."
"It may have side-affects." The second, slightly shorter and bald began where the first left off, "He may become fairly weak for a while, moody, over aggressive, 'spacy', and even contract mild illness-- such as fever, chills, or nausea." He stopped, sounding perfectly like a Zoloft commercial on the telly.
The first began again, almost as if they had rehearsed this, "Our largest concerns are affects on his memory. There are chances that he will forget this entire episode. It shouldn't be anything too serious, though it might confuse him a bit."
The other nodded, apparently with nothing more to add.
Omi and Ran blinked.
"Now, if you'll please move aside, gentlemen, we need to wake him. He can't take the shot while he's in this state." Ran hesitated for a moment before moving and pulling a wide-eyed Omi out of the way, as well.
"What!?" The blonde frowned, "You're giving him an injection!?"
Manx looked sympathetically at the younger boy, "We don't have much time, Bombay. The antidote needs to start working as soon and as quickly as possible."
Nodding uncertainly, the younger weiss watched as the bald man removed a small tube of smelling salts and placed it under his friend's nose.
Upon breathing in, Ken's eyelids began to twitch and his body jerked. Green eyes snapped open and glanced about panickedly, before beginning to inhale deeply, "Ack! Ran, I can't breathe!" There was heavy coughing as the brunett began to thrash around, nearly falling off the couch, before being grabbed and restrained by the two men in suits.
Manx raised an eyebrow at the unusually attentive redhead to her right, "Ran?"
He managed a narrow violet-eyed glare at her before glancing at the blond standing between them (whom was way too focused on the two men restraining his best friend to possibly have questions about the name), and the he turned back to what was happening.
The two men pinned the nearly psychotic brunett in a sitting position, each holding down a leg and an arm. The taller one nodded to Manx whom quickly opened a brown briefcase laying on the coffee table, and removed a syringe filled with a thin lime-green fluid. She strode forward and handed it to him.
The man with slicked back hair quickly pulled the casing off the needle with his teeth-- causing both Aya and Omi to wince at the uncouthness of such badly violated medical procedure--, and applied a small amount of pressure. Upon seeing the small spurt of liquid from the tip of the needle, he nodded to the other, and they both increased the amount of force they were using to hold the brunett down (as Ken sat, pinned and hyperventalating beneath the amazing force of both of them).
Without a moment's notice he grabbed tye back of Ken's neck, jerking his head down into a bowing position and injecting the needle into the base of his neck, releasing the green liquid. There was a piercing scream from the brunett as all his veins seem to alight with fire, and his entire body began to throb with a pulsating pain. He squeezed his green eyes shut tightly, feeling as if all of his blood were being secreted through the pours of his body and replaced by liquid flames. Everything was painful. The breathing of the two men holding him down seemed to deafen him, and the smell of his own sweat as faught wildly for release seemed to prickle within his olfactory sensors.
Then there was that feeling of dull throbbing between his eyes. A growing pressure, that begged to be released, and though it felt familiar he had not the mind to identify it. It hurt to think.
Suddenly he stopped fighting. It was useless. As he sat, his head hanging lifelessly, silent, the two men slowly released their hold on him, finally completely letting go. Everyone in the room seemed to take a step back, except that lone violet aura near the wall, that almost seemed to step forward. The pain was maddening, and dull throb around his eyes seemed to ache even more. He clenched his teeth together.
And then he began to cry.
A minute seemed to pass before Manx and her lackies had excused themselves (the redheaded woman casting a knowing look at Aya as she mounted the stairs back to the shop and insisting that Omi go upstairs and go to sleep). The blond had school the next morning, and though it had taken some brief convincing, and an unusually Aya-like glare from the woman, the blond had finally followed them up-- casting one lingering glance back at his best friend.
Aya was still until the blond was past the stairs, and them he carefully approached the brunett, whom seemed not to notice him at all.
Ken simply sat there, his face hidden beneath lockes a touseled brown hair, a tear falling against his shirt. His breathing seemed to be regulating itself back to normalcy, and he seemed to be calming. He did not look up at the other man standing above him.
For a moment, he pondering what to do. Slowly he extended his hand, resting it lightly on the brunett's shoulder. The younger man seemed to freeze, his muscles tensing automatically as he drew in a shaky breath. He looked up to meet Aya's unusually softer eyes and seemed to relax instantly.
"Can you walk?" Aya spoke quietly.
The brunett gave no response, just hiding his face again beneath his mess of hair.
"Do I need to carry you?" His voice never rose, still quiet.
This time the brunett shook his head, hesitantly shrugging off the hand on his shoulder, and pulling himself toward the edge of the couch to stand. He lifted himself slowly, his legs shaky, and grabbed onto the silent redhead's arm to hold himself up. After a moment of stabling his legs he began to slowly walk, and Aya followed closely behind.
When Ken nearly fell for the third time up the stairs, Aya smoothly caught him, manuevering the younger assassin to lean against him with an arm around his shoulder to guide him, "This would be easier if I just carried you." He grunted quietly.
"No..." He breathed out shakily. The brunett tightened his grip on the other man's shoulder, making his way up the stairs, slowly.
"Stubborn." The redhead couldn't help but mutter, and was rewarded with a clumbsy trip up from the brunett-- which was exactly what he wanted. Not wasting a second, he bent down, grabbing the other boy behind the knees, and scooping him, instantly, into a cradled position. He then began to climb the stairs swiftly, like he was accustomed to.
The younger man made a noise, almost a growl, and began to struggle to get out of his leader's grasp, but weakly and ineffectively due to the severe pain that kept shootin through his body with every attempt at breaking free. Finally he just let himself be carried. The tears, as they had been drying, were now coming again.
When they reached Ken's room, Aya pushed the already opened door wider and entered to lay the brunett on the bed. It was dark and humid, and the window was shut against the night air. He carefully (as so not to trip over the senseless clutter) moved over to the bed, laying the brunett down upon the messy glob of blankets and pillows that Ken slept on.
As the brunett was placed on the bed, he began to pull himself up into a sitting position.
Sighing, Aya seated himself on the edge of the bed beside to brunett, forgetting about the light as his vision adjusted to the present darkness of Ken's room. He frowned, raising his hand to move the hair from Ken's face, only to see pained green eyes and tearstained cheeks, "What's wrong?"
There was no reply, as the shorter man weakly batted away the extended hand. Without warning, he leaned forward, wrapping his arms tightly around Aya's shoulders and buried his face in the crook of the other man's neck. He tightened his arms, and there was a muffled sob.
Completely taken off of his guard, Aya tensed. He could feel the tears soaking through his shirt, and then he heard the low sob the younger man emitted, a sound that seemed to rip his resistance in half. He raised his arms slowly, wrapping them around the other man; he had been very unprepared for this.
There was a warmth in feeling the other man nearby, always had been, a very pleasant change of temperature. Strangely, holding the other man in his arms seemed to increase that warmth, and that unfamiliar feeling that aided it. It was odd that for the first time since his sister's coma, he actually enjoyed the touch and close proximity of another person. His arms seemed to tighten subconsciously around the other man, and Ken slowly lifted his head from the other's shoulder.
Green eyes did not raise to meet his, at first, they stared dully at his chin, before raising slowly to his lips. He stayed that way for a moment, before unraveling one of his arms from around Aya, and moving his hand to the side of the redhead's pale face. He lifted the hand, leaving only his index finger, and dragged it lightly across his cheeks and over the brigde of his nose, where it paused before moving down and landing square on Aya's lips.
Aya was frozen, tense; somehow unable to make himself move.
The other man spoke, quietly, "You have a pretty nose, Ran."
That name again. The redhead was still, where he would usually have made some sort of statement or expression showing his confusion (perhaps even irritation), for there was no mirth visable or aubible from the man in his arms.
His finger tip still rested upon the other man's closed lips, and the brunett spoke even softer, "But your mouth is beautiful." The obtrusive finger was removed.
With muddled thoughts, Aya watched the brunett sharply, his voice speaking softly, "What are you doing, Ken?"
The other man continued to keep his eyes trained on his, responding even softer, "I'm waiting to see what you will do..."
That was certainly not the answer he had been expecting, "What do you want me to do?"
"It's not about me, Aya." His voice was hardly a whisper, "It's what -you- want to do."
The wheels of Aya's mind began to spin (making small clinking and squeaking noises, for they were badly in need of oiling), he moved his eyes to look elsewhere from the green ones before him and he withdrew his arms, "I'm going to leave. So you can return to normal."
The younger man was still for a moment, then nodded, his grip suddenly loose and wirey around Aya's frame.
Strangely, Aya found himself hesitant to move.
"Why aren't you leaving?" The tone was simple-- he was proving a point.
He opened his mouth to respond, but nothing would come to him. He should leave. He should get up and walk out, and leave the brunett to become his normal self, before anything possibly regretable for either of them happened between them. Like a kiss, or more than a kiss.
He should leave, but that's not what he really wanted to do.
Ken had not moved, and almost as if he were reading every thought that ran through violet eyes, he spoke, "You feel it, too." It was almost surprise with which he whispered those words, and as quickly as he said it, he pulled his arms away. The distance between them was reopened, and Ken lay down quietly, reaching for his covers and his pillow as if nothing had happened. And nothing really had happened.
It was for the best. Aya stood, somewhat relieved at the disappearance of the situation, and quietly left the room, closing the door behind him.
"Boo."
The violet-eyed man froze.
"Scare you?" The lazy tone asked.
The redhead became increasingly aware that he was standing in a cloud of smoke and shot the other man a glare, "No smoking in the house, Kudou."
The blonde rolled his eyes, "Aw. Now, let's not change the subject, red."
Aya growled, snatching the cigarette from the other man and driving the burning tip into the wall, "This conversation has no subject." He let the remains fall to the floor and swiftly passed the frowning blond.
"'S no reason to get snippy." Youji muttered, following Aya down the steps and into the kitchen, "It's not like I really heard anything, anyway... Well, before the part about you having a beautiful mouth, and all."
As the stoic man began to prepare his tea, Youji took a seat at the table smirking and propping up his heeled clubbing shoes on the table top, "So, you wanna tell me what's going on with you and our dearest incapacitated Kenken?"
"Get your feet off the table."
"Yes, ma'am." The thunk of feet hitting the floor.
"Stop smiling."
"Right away!" The smirk was audible in his voice.
Aya was silent as his water finished heating. He removed his mug from the microwave and dropped his teabag into the heated water, too tired to go through the motions of actually putting the kettle on when Youji was going to be lurking around.
"So...?"
He threw away the paper packet out of which he got the tea bag.
"Don't be shy, Aya." Youji's grin covered half his face, "What's going on?"
The redhead picked up his mug.
"Aya...?"
"I love him."
The blonde froze, perhaps even stopped breathing for a moment. When he finally remembered who and where he was and what Aya had just said, the redhead was nowhere in sight.
--
Aya sighed, and rolled over onto his back to face the ceiling. He couldn't be sure of why he had said that to Youji. Perhaps he had just wanted the playboy to shut up. If that was the case, it had certainly worked. It wasn't like it particularly mattered. Yet, something continued telling him that it did.
'Maybe I do...' He frowned, moving his arms to fold them behind his head. It had been so long since he had just laid in bed and thought. He had been so busy lately, he could never find time to relax.
He took a deep breath and sighed, 'What if I do love him?'
Ken had said, "You feel it to." Was he talking about this? Love? How was he supposed to know what love is or what it felt like? He hadn't had contact with the reality of that feeling since his sister's coma. It wasn't to say he didn't love Aya-chan anylonger, but more as if he had discovered the difficulty of loving someone and never having them look at you, or say your name, or acknowledge you-- even if it wasn't her fault. Even that love felt towards his sister, was a different kind of love.
Whatever he felt for Ken was not philial love. Though the more he though about it, neither did it seem platonic.
He had always thought the brunett was special, and even from the first time he had met the other man, despite the violence of the situations they endured, he knew that the other man would be someone important to him-- though at that particular time, he was thinking more towards enemy.
He remembered the evening before and his brief walk in the rain. It was strange how he felt somewhat protective when it came to the Hidaka. Last night had been hell, seeing him in pain-- crying, even. That was a sight he had only seen on the younger man once before, and sheerly by accident. It had happened right after Kase's death.
Resisting growling at his own confusing and muddled thoughts, Aya decided to simply lay and not think for a while. He never really got to enjoy mornings like this. Lazy and shirtless in bed, too tired to get up, but not tired enough to sleep. He shuddered as he realised that Youji might actually be rubbing off on him (sans the glasses, women, clubs, hangovers, and future lung disease -- which, when looked at from that perspective, meant he was still virtually safe).
There was a light knock at the door.
Aya frowned and began to lift himself from the bed. He knew it was too good to last. Trudging over to the door, trying his best to appear alert, he reached for the door handle and turned it. The door opened just a crack, and he peered out into the hallway.
Ken stood there wearing a green T-shirt that read, "I'll kick your ass." over a soccer ball with an arrow pointing to it that read "Your ass" [2], and a pair of very wrinkled khaki's that came down exposing only the first few toes of his socked feet. He was scratching lightly at the back of his neck facing the other end of the hall, until he realised the door had opened and spun around to peer through the small crack that Aya had allowed. He blinked.
"Ano... Aya?" He spoke hesitantly, leaning in a bit, trying to get a glance of the redhead through the door.
"What do you want?" The weiss leader spoke very monotone, openning the door to at least half-ways.
Ken frowned and urged his eyes to remain on Aya's face instead of observing his leader's very attractive physique, as he only wore a pair of grey cotton pajama pants, "Umm... I looked for you in the shop, but Youji and Omi told me you had the second shift, so..." He paused, pensivity apparent on his features, "I just came to say, uh..."
Aya frowned and quirked an eyebrow; waiting. "...?"
Seeing the impatience tinged on the redhead's face, Ken bit his lip and spoke very briefly, "I just came to say that I'm very sorry for how I have acted yesterday and last night. I wasn't careful enough on the mission, and I made myself a liability. And I'm very, very, sorry. And I thank you for, um..." The brunett paused, trying to think quickly of a way to say what he wanted to say, "Aa... Thank you for, uh... Not killing me!" Without a delay, he bowed deeply and stood facing the ground, waiting for a response.
The redhead blinked.
"So, ah... If it's alright with you I'll just--"
"How much do you remember?" Aya sighed, sounding tired, and trying to get directly to the point.
Ken frowned and looked up, "Enough to be extremely embarassed--"
"Be specific." The violet-eyed man snapped.
"Um..." He began once again to scratch at that spot on the back of his neck, "I remember gluing my hand to a wall, and something about a spider." He winced suddenly, "And I remember breaking Omi's trust about..." He drifted off. "And I saw you walking in the rain from the roof at some point."
Aya nodded.
"And I also remember something about being Buddha, but I may have just imagined that." He added quickly, "All that I remember after that is pain."
"That's it?"
A nod.
"Nothing else?"
He shook his head.
"So you're back to yourself again."
"I suppose." Ken glanced away from the other, and beginning to wish Aya was wearing a shirt-- despite how good he looked without it.
"Are you sure there's nothing else?" The usually stoic voice this time had the beginning sound of a smirk in it.
Unable to look up for shame, the ex-J-leaguer hesitantly nodded, as if debating over something in his mind.
"Then why won't you look at me?" There was definately the sound of jesting in Aya's voice.
Ken looked up, giving the other man a puzzled look when he saw the mischevious look on the other's face, "What?"
"What do you think of my nose, Ken?"
The brunett blinked. Just where had that question come from? Vaguely, something about it struck in Ken's mind as being familiar, "What do I... what?"
Aya resisted rolling his eyes, the mischevious look gone and now appearing very normal, "My nose, Ken. What do you think of it?"
"Um... Why?" Green eyes looked adorably confused, "You're not thinking of changing it, are you?"
There was silence for a moment as the redhead quirked a fine eyebrow, "No."
"Oh... Heh heh." Ken chuckled to himself nervously, "Er, I guess it's... pretty."
Something clicked within Aya's mind, "That doesn't sound like something you'd -normally- say."
This time Ken smirked, suddenly seeming a lot bolder, "I don't have to be normal anymore. I have an excuse."
"Oh?" The violet-eyed man watched the brunett sharply, "Enlighten me."
Unexpectedly Ken took a step forward, placing one hand on the door frame and the other on the door, and he leaned in within centimetres of the redhead's face, "Because you feel it, too."
"Maybe you're just assuming things." Violet eyes challenged.
"Maybe..." The brunett closed the distance, brushing his lips against those of the redhead. It was short, with little pressure-- just a peck. He pulled back slowly, watching the older man before him.
Aya was immobile. He could barely breathe. He was frozen in place, yet he still felt unbelievably warm.
"Or maybe you're just denying things." Ken smirked lightly, feeling as if his mission were complete, and began to back into the hallway, when suddenly there was a firm grip at the neck of his shirt.
The redhead, giving into some unknown force caused by the close proximity of the brunett pulled the other man forward again, meeting his green-eyed gaze with playful scorn. He sighed and shook his head, "You can't do anything right." With that, Aya leaned forward and kissed him-- proper.
It was strange how quickly it seemed to happen. Just a slight brush of the lips at first, then a slow appliance of pressure and movement, just before it was deepened by the gentle graze of a tongue over his lower lip. Aya's hands slowly slid around him, and he felt his own reach up to mingle in the others silky hair. A cool hand lifted the edge of his shirt and brushed against his abdomen. Then, with a single swift movement, his shirt was gone, and he felt Aya pulling them backwards, "Too many clothes on in the bedroom."
He shut the door. [3]
--
Downstairs in the shop, the crowd of school girls had just flocked away after Omi as he ran to reach his class on time. Youji sighed and leaned against the counter wondering when, or if, Ken was coming down again for his shift.
--
OWARI
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Author's Notes... (For background info)
1] And that's -real- sleeping. As in drooling-on-your-pillow-with-chemical-reactions-of-the-cerebrum-that-cause-fanastical-wonders-and-terrors-to-play-themselves-through-your-subconscious-minds-so-that-when-you-wake-up-in-the-morning-you-can-say,-"Hey! What a friggin' awesome dream!" kind of sleep, you hentais. Get your minds out of the gutter. --;;
2] Heh, heh. One of my friends is a soccer-player and she has this shirt.
3] Insert your hentai li'l thoughts here. I don't write lemons. :P