Adaptation
Revision
A Ran x Ken One-shot
Shounen-ai fanfiction.
"Shit!" His voice echoed throughout the empty basement in high depth. The ratchet in hand dropped instantly and he clutched it tightly.
Crimson red blood now flowed freely from damage inflicted upon his palm, stretching diagonally across in length. The skin splintered and drew partially away from the depths of the wound, laying open in the blood flow.
Flipping his hand over, he could see the blood start to trickle from the thin red line stretching across his knuckles. How he'd managed to slice both sides simultaneously he wasn't quite clear on. The ratchet had somehow slipped from its lock upon the pipe, no doubted from all the oil he was covered in, and sent his hand forward, slicing it upon one of the sharper objects he'd been working on. When he'd pulled away from it, he'd concurrently sliced the upper side of his hand across his knuckles when he reacted.
But that was only half the truth; he'd been distracted within his thoughts.
His thoughts always drifting towards him.
He pushed the wheeled stretcher he was lying upon out from underneath Youji's seven, and grabbed the clean rag lying next to the large red toolbox, something he'd left to clean the oil from his hands. Wrapping the old cloth around his hand in attempts to stop the bleeding, he knotted the ends together. Sitting up, he pushed away from the stretcher and stood up.
Grabbing his discarded ratchet from the floor, he flung the oiled and bloodied tool into the top compartment of the waist high toolbox. He pushed the open fourth compartment drawer closed forcefully and slammed the boxes lid down.
Still angered, he ran his uninjured hand through the back of his hair, sliding off the blue bandana that kept his hair out of his line of vision, and breathed in deeply, letting the air slowly escape from his lips. Scratching his nose, he smeared a line of black oil from his fingers across the bridge of his nose and moved to scratch the side of his face, the bandana slipping from his fingers and to the floor, soiled with blood and oil.
Half the truth was he'd let his thoughts drift.
Letting them drift to the red hair that cascaded like silk over violet eyes.
He had to get this finished, Youji had complained for almost a week now of Sevens actions, and asked Ken to check it out. Setting aside time to work on his own bike, he'd agreed. However, as he looked to the clock he sighed. There was no way he'd finish it tonight, and he hadn't even started on the routine checks on Aya's Porsche, or Omi's bike yet.
"Shit!" He swung his head around, his voice lower in context. Blowing another fit of air from his mouth, he looked back to his hand. Blood had already managed to seep through the thin cloth and trickle down his fingers, spotting the floor in crimson drops. Giving a soft growl, he thudded across the garage and into the living area he shared with the three other assassins.
Half the truth was he'd distracted himself within his own thoughts.
With the silken voice that rarely spoke.
Stepping into the already lit kitchen and neglecting his hand, he grabbed a bottle of Gatorade from the refrigerator. Tilting his head back, he chugged down what remained of the halfway filled bottle as Aya walked in.
Half the truth; foolishness.
Having heard the loud cry that penetrated through buildings walls, Aya retreated from his thoughts and from the den to where he knew Ken would be likely be for the day; the garage.
His hand slid to the doors frame as he rounded its entrance, the door open, his eyes falling upon the blood pool beside Youji's seven, and the bandana that kept ken's unkempt hair from his eyes. Blood could be clearly seen darkening the already darkened fabric. Following the neatly displayed droplets, he brought his eyes to his feet and followed with his eyes the direction in which they traveled; into the kitchen.
The blue bandana stood out within his minds eye, the blood that soaked through and smeared its surface. It indicated a head wound, something that bled profusely until it was stopped. His pace quickened in step.
At the kitchens entrance he stopped, leaning against the doors fame with his hand, the blood trail stopped, leading directly to its owner, his eyes finding the inflicted damage with ease.
Relief.
Aya, Ken oblivious to him having entered the kitchen, walked silently up behind the brunette and firmly but delicately grabbed Ken by the arm, lifting his hand to clearly see.
Un-startled, Ken finished the last of the bottles contents, watching Aya from the corner of his eye as he further inspected the damage.
"Sliced it on Youji's Seven when I was working on it."
"Can you move it?" Aya's voice remained calm as Ken winced in pain despite Aya's delicate touch.
"Yeah." He breathed in sharply between his teeth, hissing silently, slowly moving his fingers.
Aya eyed him wearily in concern. Untying the ends of the soiled cloth, Aya took the hand gently within his and led the younger teen to the sink, turning the waters tap on. Cupping his smaller hand within his, he entwined their fingers and brought the two under the soft flow of water within the basin.
Ken hissed again, "Be careful."
He eyed him again.
Turning his hand over, Aya found the second injury, and adjusted his hand accordingly to avoid both. "How long ago?"
Crimson liquid mingled with the perfect clear, tainting it as it swirled together into a diluted red and spiraled down the pipes. Ken watched in fascination, angered to have taken something so perfect and tainted it. Everything they touched was soiled, thus was the life he led. There was no use fighting it now, he'd caused too much pain within his life to leave it all behind. For even if he tried to leave it, it would never leave him.
Flushing the wound in the steady water flow, they could see the extent of the damage he'd caused. Ken cringed between clenched teeth, turning his head away as the muscles in his arm tensed, "Just a minute ago. Youji said Seven's been acting up, and asked if I'd take a look at it. I had too much oil on my hands and the ratchet slipped. Sorry I think I may have trailed some in on way in."
Half a lie, half a truth.
His foolishness would not be told; not to the person his thoughts had drifted to.
"Hn." Aya remained nonchalant. Ken let out a soft sigh and let his eyes fall, disconcerted.
Was this all Aya would ever say to him? Would he ever open up? No matter how much he tried, he couldn't get through; he couldn't break through that perfectly glazed posterior of ice he displayed. And it hurt knowing that he couldn't. Never enough the smiles that he displayed, or the words of comfort he offered, he would never be enough.
Why…
Why must I put myself through such pain?
Why wont this feeling leave?
Why…
"Didn't know you cared so much. I've got to hand it to you; I think that's the most you've ever said to me without trying to piss me off completely. Sorry to ruin your carpet, I'll clean it up later." Monotoned, he pulled his hand from underneath the waters flow and away from Aya's grasp; quickly grabbing a free towel from the counter, snapping it and wrapping it around his hand.
He wasn't in the mood to fight for once; he was only looking to do what he'd set out to do. And arguing with Aya wasn't anywhere upon his list today. He breathed in deeply, and held it for a moment before releasing, hoping his anger would dissipate, and his feeling in his heart would lessen. But as he turned to leave, Aya's hand firmly grabbed hold of his arm, stopping him.
He froze, his body tensing to Aya's touch.
His skin tingling at the warm contact he brought.
"I never said anything about the carpet Ken. Sit." Aya's grip increased around the younger boys arm, forcefully pushing him into one of the kitchen table's chairs. The chair clattered with abuse, but Ken did what he was told, unable to utter a retort.
Aya turned away from him just as he was sure the boy wouldn't leave or retaliate in protest. Rummaging through the upper left cupboard above the sink, Aya pulled out its medical kit and set it atop the counter. Finding what he needed, he returned to the table and pulled up a chair before Ken.
Ken stared with an angry brow, but remained still as Aya once again took his hand and placed it before him. "Keep it still."
Leaving Ken's hand to hover before him, he let go, indulging himself within the gauze and the antibacterial disinfectant.
Seeing what Aya meant to do, Ken pulled away, withdrawing his hand and cringing… Too late, Aya's instinctive and reflexive nature foresaw this and without a thought his free hand clasped firmly around Ken's wrist.
"Stay Still." His voice threatened as amethyst eyes bore deeply into his chocolate orbs, and it was almost as if they could penetrate into his sole, as if they could see everything he tried so hard to hide and keep undiscovered.
Ken froze once again before a crimson blush spread across the bridge of his nose, and breaking away from the perilous lock on him, Ken averted his eyes, turning his head to the side.
With his steady hold upon Ken's wrist, Aya continued to mend what was broken, and despite the hiss through clenched teeth, Ken remained silent and still for the duration of it's cleaning.
"You won't be able to use it for a while without reopening it… Move your fingers." Aya directed him, cupping his hand from underneath and holding it before him.
The blood flow had decreased significantly before he'd been required to stitch the injury, and wrap it. Fearing he'd wrapped a little too tightly he watched for signs of discomfort, "Is it to tight?"
Slightly, Ken moved his fingers, testing out their range of movement before the pain became too noticeable. Spreading his hand, and placing his fingers apart, he tested the bandages compression ratio. "No." The wrapping stretched slightly with his hand, leaving air to breath and move without having cut the circulation off to his fingers.
Aya nodded, clipping the bandage together with a silver clasping before returning the miscellaneous aid items back to their box across the room.
An uncomfortable silence lingered within the air, the two unable to find words to say, leaving the air heavy and awkward.
Ken fumbled with his lips, his tongue slipping against commands; he lightly pounded the kitchens table with his unharmed hand in a bounce of rhythm. He could get this out, a Thank you, even if he had made himself look foolish. "Tha-…"
"Yo! What happened to you?" Youji's booming voice broke the unwanted silence between the two as they searched for something to say.
A gratitude of thanks unable to whisper past his lips, left in silence.
A voice of relief unable to speak any words, I'm glad you're okay.
Youji entered the kitchen with a whistle, leaning precariously close over Ken's shoulder as he studied his hand. His hands rough and indelicate like Aya's had been, he grabbed his wrist and lifted it closer to his line of sight.
He whistled again, "What'd you do this time, KenKen?" he laughed.
Angered slightly, he pulled his arm back to his side and rose to his feet, silently walking from the kitchen and disappearing down the hall.
"Huh." Placing his hands upon his hips, Youji raised his brows as he watched the younger teen stalk from the kitchen.
He returned to the garage.
His mind wondered. He hadn't been able to give a 'Thank you' or any sign of gratitude towards Aya. It was rare enough for him to come down to check on him, and even rarer to help mend the wound. On missions, Aya left for his room, and didn't come out till morning. Never once had he offered help with injuries, never one had he mended what was other than his own. And his shown gratitude may have him never again do what he had done.
Ken leaned his shoulder against the door's frame on the inside of the garage, crossing his arms heavily over his chest; he crossed his right foot over his left and let his eyes gaze in a daze at the garages contents.
A thank you… It would be rather awkward to somehow say 'thank you' to him now. Thank you wasn't something that crossed his lips very often, but when it did, it was always sincere. Why was it now, that when it mattered most, he couldn't find the strength to say what he most wanted?
A half truth.
With the exception of the four automobiles, the garage was rather empty. Well lit, the red toolbox and oil stains were really all that stood out outside of the vehicles. On the far right side of the closed garage, Youji's Seven sat with Omi's bike a few feet from it, perfectly aligned. Directly across from Youji's Seven, Ken's bike stood with Aya's Porsche horizontally aligned across from it. Each vehicle perfectly maintained and polished with care, not a speck of dirt could be found upon the coats of paint.
Ken looked to the clock mounted on the far right wall between Youji's Seven and Omi's bike. It was already past eight thirty, and the clock was wavering towards nine as it continued in its climb. He pulled his eyes back towards Youji's seven, and towards the floor where the toolbox stood. His blue bandana lay coated in blood within the cloths center, blood trails from his fingers crossing its top.
Without realizing it, he must have dropped it from his fingers when he'd taken it off. Sighing, he pushed away from the doors frame and fully entered the garage.
He'd finish them tonight.
Throwing down the hood, he let a heavily breath of air escape his parted lips, his cheeks puffing out slightly as it released. From the toolbox, he grabbed a spare rag, wiping the grease and oil from his hands on the already dirtied cloth. Setting the cloth down upon the toolboxes top, he rounded Youji's Seven to the driver's side, hoping over the topless car.
The spare key already intact, he gave a slight turn of his wrist and let the engine roar to life. Pulling the cars gears into drive, he pulled the car through the now open garage and into the darkened night.
Outside the wind blew relentlessly against him, pulling his hair past him in disarray in the open night. With the flip of the switch the headlights came to life, lighting his darkened path.
His elbow propped out against Youji's seven, against the door, driving with one hand upon the wheel and his eyes upon the road. Driving in silence, he unconsciously glanced to the clock. Twelve a.m.
Not many cars drove down the deserted street, the city's life asleep and dreaming. Buildings darkened, having long past closing, and apartments dull without life.
Seven ran smoothly in Ken's care, never once reacting in the way Youji described. Having fixed the problem that lay under its hood, Ken grinned in satisfaction, a small yawn creeping upon him in the night.
He shook his head, turning the wheel as he made a U-turn at the cross section and made his way back. Bright headlights suddenly shone from nowhere, the driver blatantly ignoring the stop sign. The car was going to fast, his actions drunk as the driver obviously had no regard to what he was doing, to preoccupied by who sat in the seat next to him.
Ken slammed the brakes to the floor, swerving the car into a spin in a desperate attempt to avoid a head on collision neither car nor passenger would survive.
Tires screeched against the pavement, rubber burning billowed.
Omi startled awake at the sound of the late-night engine rumbling from the garage. The young blonde adjusted his eyes and looked to his nightstand clock. He mumbled incoherently.
Fumbling from the warmth of his sheets and the comfort of his bed, he trotted slowly from the room, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Clad in his formal flannel nightwear he exited his room, stumbling down the short flight of stairs to the garage.
Cold air rushed to greet him as the he opened the door connecting to the garage. Bright lights forced his eyes closed as they focused on adjusting to the light. Slowly, having adjusted, his eyes scanned for presence of life within the room. Noting the basement garage open, he found Youji's seven gone.
"Omi, what are you doing up this late? Don't you have school in the morning?" The voice startled him, but he reacted with nothing more than surprise. Following the yawning blonde with his gaze, Omi watched him pass, "Seven's gone." He stated simply.
And with a yawn of his own, he started back to his room.
The golden blonde froze, taking notice to what Omi had said. "What?" it came out as a whisper.
Youji scrambled back down the hall.
Omi mumbled something once again, as the sound of Sevens engine drew into the garage and fell silent. "Seven's back."
Ignoring what would take place; he walked back up to his place of sleep and silently shut his door.
"What do you think your doing, Ken?!" Youji's voice echoed in ten folds in the tiny confinements of its room. Ken, now across the room Youji entered furiously, stretched limberly to catch the garage doors bottom and pull it back down into place.
His hands shook.
As if ignoring the question, he rubbed his hands freely against his faded jeans, old in wear with holes gaping at his knees and thigh, his cloth collared shirt slightly loose against his skin; blood lightly smeared a pant leg. Not even giving the courtesy of showing him acknowledgment with his eyes, he simply paced to the toolbox and drew from it what he needed, "You asked me to fix it."
Ken grabbed the grease rag from where he'd dropped it, and picked up a small bottle of wax.
"You call that fixing?! What the hell have you done to my car! Look at it! Just look at it!" If Youji was mad before, nothing compared to what Ken faced now as Youji took in the drivers side of the car. He was in hysterics, his hands pulling through his hair and his chest heaving in hyperventilation.
A massive scratch wavered from the driver's door to the rear bumper, paint and metal blatantly obvious.
Ken breathed in deeply, trying to calm his nerves in desperation as he tried to regain his quavering breath. Kneeling with the front of his feet to support him, he hunched over to apply the wax. It wouldn't do much, but it was something. He sighed, running a free hand through his hair as he stared at it.
Youji's raving continued, increasing, as he grew yet closer. "What have you done!? What the hell did you do! You were supposed to fix it, not kill it!"
By this time, Omi once again, plummeted into the garage, his instinct forewarning him of a fight to come. Barefoot he padded across the basement in attempts to stop the fight before it grew out of hand. "Guys!" His sleep awakened voice screeched slightly in comparison to Youji's anger filled voice.
From the door, Aya's head peaked around the garage corner, his face weary and his hard gaze angered at having been disturbed from his sleep, but his expression rather amused.
"I didn't mean to."
"What do you mean you didn't mean to? How could you not?! Look at it! How can you not see whatever you hit! I know you're clumsy, but this Ken... This... How could you be so stupid! Do you not know how to use that brain of yours?"
Ken's anger swelled, and in an attempt to keep it at bay, he clenched his fists together, willing the anger to go away. He didn't feel the blood that had already passed through the cleanly wrapped bandage, having since some time ago. He knew Youji's seven was his pride possession, and he didn't let many touch it; he understood his anger, but he was going overboard.
"Or was it that you were thinking of someone else again? A certain red head perhaps?!" Youji's raving had crossed the line.
Ken gasped silently, frozen.
Betrayal.
Youji didn't even see it, the swiftness he displayed. Ken suddenly appeared before him, his eyes dark behind long chocolate locks, and he saw the betrayal, the pain.
He didn't have time to dodge the angled punch that landed against his jaw, sending him reeling back.
Arms folded tightly under Ken arms, wrapping up around his shoulders. One step to late, Youji had already recoiled behind Kens fist, rubbing his jaw
Ken struggled in Aya's arms before he fell still and slipped from them, icing over as if a touch from the icy prince himself could cause such, as if Aya had caused him pain just from touch.
His breath caught as he realized whom it was that had kept him at bay.
Breathing out silently, he raised a quavering hand to run through his hair; tiny drops of blood splattering against the pavement. "Omi, I'll have to give you a ride to school tomorrow. Your bike won't be ready." The words were whispered and shaken, but his body movement was fluid. Without looking to the offended party, he spoke "I'll take your car into the shop tomorrow. It should be done within a day." In silence he started his bike letting the engine roar little before he hastily exited, only to leave quicker than he had come.
The three assassins looked on in awe after its fourth member's departure, noting the blood that smeared the steering wheel of sevens interior, and the drops that had cascaded from his fingertips.
He returned early into the morning, weary and tired, his body seeking relief in sleep, but his heart and mind telling him he should finish. He'd ridden to nowhere and to no one. With the life of an assassin, he had nowhere and he had no one to call his own, no one to wrap him in their arms and tell him things were okay. No where to seek comfort.
It plagued him, unrelenting. This is what he desired, this is what he sought.
But an assassin doesn't deserve happiness.
He sighed, pulling the bike into the garage with sluggish movements, having cut the engine a while back so as not to wake the others. Once again within the garages confinements, he returned to where Seven was parked. Taking in yet again, the damage inflicted upon it. Taking in another breath, he sighed again. There was nothing he could do to repair it; he didn't have the equipment to fix this type of situation.
He returned to his original thought, 'he wouldn't be able to finish this tonight'. To tired to think straight, he'd end up causing more damage than repair and thus it would be unwise.
Silently moving from the garage, the lights flickered to darkness behind him as he withdrew into the household, seeking the gym.
To where he sought relief he went, the only place he could work out his anger, his frustration… his despair.
Too many things plagued his mind, too many emotions fought in turmoil within him, and he couldn't find a way to drown them out.
Frustration, Youji hadn't even listened, he only assumed.
Anger, betrayal, Youji had blatantly blurted out what he hadn't even fully admitted himself.
Despair, What if Aya had heard… Would he know? Did he know?
Tiring his body and mind would send a dulling ache to wash them away, even if only temporarily.
Flickering the lights to life, he stripped himself of his shirt, throwing it carelessly to the metal chair to the wall.
He stretched, throwing his waist in motion to warm up.
The scenes replayed within his mind, the bloodying of his hand and the tender care Aya held to mend it.
He pulled his arms over his head, up and over.
Youji interrupted, 'what you do this time Kenken?" He'd almost been able to say it. If he had said it, he'd never be able to take it back. And if he'd said any more, the already delicate relationship he held with Aya would never be repairable, it would leave things awkward and painful.
He stretched out his knees and calves.
The headlights. The screeching tire tracks, and the smoke that billowed around them, like a thick haze.
He moved to the padded floor, pulling his injured hand behind his back as his weight fell to the floor, his body moving up in down in rhythm with one hand in push-ups.
Youji's voice. The anger that he displayed, unreasonable and unwavering. "I know you're clumsy, but this Ken... This... How could you be so stupid! Do you not know how to use that brain of yours?" His voice echoed around him again, angering him, silencing him, hurting him.
Up, down.
"Or was it that you were thinking of someone else again?"
The betrayal that stung, as if fire had licked him bare across the skin once again.
Up, down. Up, down.
Kase suddenly came into mind, and the flames that scorched him within the warehouse during his betrayal. The betrayal he hadn't even known until years later.
Up, down. Up, down.
"A certain red head perhaps?!"
His body froze and his hand shook beneath his weight, for an instant, remembering his last words. For an instant…
He fell back into rhythm, his body dripping with sweat and his finely toned muscles showing against his tanned skin.
His presence wasn't even felt as he watched from the doorway.
He knew Ken's patterns, his every emotion. Ken worked out in the mornings, but when he suddenly left without explanation, he could be found here a little while later, to work out the emotions that he felt. He knew he'd be here when he returned; it was only a matter of time until then.
Aya watched the sweat gleam against his perfectly toned body, and the muscles that tightened as they were used. He breathed in sharply, watching perfectly still and silent.
Ken suddenly staggered, hesitating in his beautiful movements; pained.
He leaned his slightly built frame against the doorframe, his arms folded lightly over his chest, hiding the clean wrapping he held in his hand.
Ken moved, pulling his body to lie upon his back as he brought his knees up and pushed his hands behind his head. His abdomen crunched under the sit ups, pulling together and contracting in release.
He was going to over exert himself, Aya stepped forward and Ken heard, stopping for a brief moment as he picked up the sound of footfall against the floor. "What do you want?" he continued, not bothering to turn to look to see who it might be.
"Your hand."
The voice caused him to stop suddenly in mid crunch, his body tensing to the owner's presence. He pulled himself up the remaining length to his knees, shaking slightly.
No. He pushed himself back down, ignoring the words and continued in the repeating rhythm. Only to become deathly aware of the presence Aya presented as he squatted down closely beside him. "It's fine."
He tried to block him out, closing his eyes to concentrate solely on the rhythm of his breathing, the contracting of his muscles.
Block him out, he'll go away.
It didn't work.
"It's bleeding."
His body stopped again as he raised himself up and brought his hand before him. Blood soaked through, ringing around the wound; none dry. He fell back down, "So it is."
"Hidaka." Aya's voice leaned towards warning, not quite having broken that barrier.
Ken pulled himself to his knees again and stood, walking away from Aya and heaving a sigh. In annoyance, Aya raised a brow but remained still, as Ken grabbed a towel from the chair and wiped the sweat from his face, draping the towel around his neck and over his shoulders.
Side towards him, Ken gazed back down at his hand and to Aya, and questioned him silently 'Your not going to leave are you?'
Unraveling the bandage he deftly took of the clasping and let the tainted length spiral to the ground in disregard. He took in the wound and brought his fingers in towards his palm, watching the blood seep and pool in the crevice of it.
He took in breaths heavy with forcefulness from exerting his body in exercise, and in stride he walked back to where Aya sat, watching him, and placed out his uninjured hand, "I'll do it myself."
Aya gazed up at him, his face expressionless, trying to catch a hold of the chocolate orbs that sought to elude him as they watched only his hands. Ken's face faltered, and his gaze turned away with the slight turn of his head. Aya complied, slightly angered he handed over the wrapping he held and stood.
Uncomfortable, Ken turned to pace away from him and work upon his hand, tossing the towel at his neck to the chair once again. Hopefully, he thought, this would leave Aya happy and have him in turn leave. Again, luck evaded him. He could feel the amethyst eyes burn against him as they touched his skin in gaze only, licking against him like the flames of a small fire growing larger.
Self-consciously, he bit at the wrapping the tare it from its starting point and unwind it. With one hand he raveled the bandage shabbily around his hand and once again tried to tare with his teeth the wrapping from it's raveling, unsuccessful.
Hunger. He silently stepped to stand behind him, sliding his arms around Ken's neck and to his hands. His chest distanced closely against his back, and he could feel Ken stiffen to his touch. His softly pastel colored skin stood in contrast against his perfectly bronzed casing, kissed by the sun itself. A shudder ran along his spin at the slightest of his touch, his fingertips barely grazing against the skins surface of his hand, unbinding the wrappings once again.
Aya's ear tails brushing seductively against his shoulder sent a reaction tingling beneath the skin. He could feel his breath, warm, against the nape of his neck, making him stand on edge.
He fought for control of his breathing and the movement of his body he had no power over.
"What happened, Ken?" Ken gasped silently at the whisper etching into his ear, consciously aware of the lips that parted so slightly so close to them.
Kens scratched his head softly with his uninjured hand, somewhat embarrassed from what had happened. He didn't feel Aya's presence get any closer, but unconsciously he fell slightly back, leaning into Aya's touch, entwining. He sighed with closed eyes and a small laugh.
"Some drunk guy…" Aya's soft hands tightened about Ken's as he looked away from his hands to his face. "Youji's been complaining for weeks about Seven, so I took her out after looking at her to see how she ran. But when I pulled around the intersection up by Kali Street, this guy comes out of nowhere. He didn't even have his lights on, and then he suddenly did; he was to drunk and to busy with the person in the seat beside him. Lucky I got out with just the scratch. I swerved to the right, but the guy snapped to and sent his car into a spin. That's when he hit me."
His touch seemed to lull him, soothing the dull pain that had become apparent at its mention. The warm breathe against the crevice of his neck comforting; the soft caresses against his skin cooling as if drawing away the heat from his excursions.
Aya continued, "And Youji?"
All too suddenly becoming aware of the situation, of Aya's presence, so closely pressed against him, Ken stiffened slightly once again, trying to right himself. Aya didn't allow it.
His breath staggered.
"Something he said." He whispered, his eyes half lidded with pain and sadness.
Aya's hands finished, the metal clasping securely put in place. His hands, however, didn't leave. Tracing slowly the contours of his shape, his fingers coming to rest at the edges of his belt as his palms rested against the fabric of his jeans.
The whisper came low against his ear, as silken lips parted, pressing lightly and playing softly against his ear, "Which part?"
Time froze.
He'd heard…. 'Which part'? Which part had he heard?
Panic played in turmoil within his chest, clasping hand in hand in joy to his dismay.
Only half a truth.
His eyes stopped, caught in the image that played in his minds eye.
A clash of thunder, "Or was it that you were thinking of someone else again?"
His skin suddenly became to warm, an uncomfortable sensation prickling against it like a thousand tiny needles drawing blood in a crimson blush.
"A certain red head perhaps?" Voices overlapped, past and present colliding unnoticed.
"You heard." It came softly, almost unheard even to himself. He turned upon his heals, stepping gingerly away. Blank eyes bore like empty canyons.
Destruction.
Everything would fall.
It was crumbling, what he feared most in the world was happening. Fear gripped his heart like thorned roses carving into his heart in a deathlike vice. And like a giant wave in an unbearably lonely ocean, sorrow fell unto his eyes.
What he'd been able to hold onto, the securities that bound Weiss, like shackled chains, would break and crumble to his feet.
Flaws would come to harm Weiss, in battle collisions would come and grow worse. The comfortable atmosphere in which he lived would shatter to pieces.
Everything he heard would be said. The words that shadowed him relentlessly in tormenting dreams; they would fall across his lips like silken water, never knowing, never caring the pain it would cause, the emptiness and sorrow that would consume.
Another step backwards.
"Ken." Unheard, his vision swam, the words that betrayed him never leaving him.
Another step.
Aya stepped forward, his hand reaching forward to comfort. Ken couldn't gage what displayed upon Aya's face, fear gripped him to hard.
He pushed against the wall unnoticed, tears spilling to the brink, pooling within his eyes and yet to be spilled. "No." He shook his head slowly, trying to move away and finding he couldn't. Underneath him, his legs threatened to give way. "Don't say it."
They were whispered, so much so he himself couldn't hear the words he'd said. Aya stepped forward, his hand sliding to the hand backed against the wall, and entwining his fingers against his. His face drew closely, "Then I won't."
A kiss; lips played softly against his, pressing for warmth. Ken staggered beneath him, his eyes wide in shock, his mouth trembling. But Aya didn't draw away, the kiss only deepened as he played softly against his bottom lip, almost desperately asking to seek entrance to the slick cavern.
Aya rose their entwined fingers above Ken's head, bracing their hands gently pressed against the wall. He listened in rapture as Ken's breath staggered beneath him as his free hand nimbly rose to play against his taunt flesh, shivering to his almost invisible touch; deftly playing to caress across his skin, skillfully rising over his spine.
Below his, Ken's lips slowly parted, giving access to the cavern in which he sought to gain entrance. Aya parted willingly Ken's lips farther with his own, savoring the rose-pedaled lips against his.
He shivered at the moan that escaped from the boy's mouth, his tongue gently probing into his. Pressing fully against him now, Aya pulled to further deepen the kiss before breaking away with a lack of oxygen.
"Aya…." He whispered in a voice that trembled, his eyes unable to look directly into the amethyst eyes. Ken's legs gave way; unable to support him any longer he slid to the floor, his legs tangled about him, "Why… I… I don't understand."
A small smile splayed across Aya's face as he slid down and settled between his legs. His ivory fingers rose and softly touched his cheek, rising to brush away the chocolate locks obscuring his vision, and the richly colored orbs hiding from his.
He pressed forward, drawing in Ken's comforting warmth, and cupped his chin, cradling it within his palm with a slight smile at his own lips. "I do, Aishiteru. Aishiteru Ken."
Again he leaned in, skillfully drawing heat away from the swollen red lips beneath his. His fingers continued to play against his skin as his kiss was returned, slowly once again as if unsure. But as the kiss continued, the table turned, Ken forcefully applying for dominance, and seizing it. His composure once again regained, Ken pressed forward, pushing Aya back down against the floor as he hovered above, never once breaking their kiss.
Parting, Ken let their breaths mingle together, their hands still entwined. His head fell forward to the side of Aya's head as he whispered gently against his ear. "Don't play with me, Aya."
Aya's free hand nimbly ran through the hair at the back of Ken's neck, pulling him down to an entrancing kiss as their lips met once again. "The truth is never a lie." He whispered back, his amethyst eyes locking into his chocolate orbs.