Disclaimer: I don't own Weiss, I just like to play with them once in a while. My work is always pro bono.
Author's note at the end of the chapter.
"I didn't want to have to do this but it's about the team. All I ask, Youji, is that you stay away from me. I don't know why this, of all things, had to happen but it's better if it's dealt with swiftly. We work together almost every day and for some reason, we're most often teamed together during our missions. Distance will be the best solution."
He said everything and nothing at the same time. He never quite brought himself to use words of affection, words that genuinely denote what he was trying to get at. That's Aya for you. In the past few days, I often replay that conversation from La Rose Obscure, like some syndicated TV drama.
"Youji!"
I realize with a bit of a start that the redhead I'm sitting with isn't the sullen Weiss leader. Blue lasers illuminate the dark room, rising and falling, flashing, changing direction to the thundering beat that's pounding through me. I uncross my leather-clad legs and sit back. I move to take a sip of my vodka on the rocks, only to realize that there's only a bit of melted ice left in the glass. I wasn't thirsty anyway, it was more of a nervous jolt to further procrastinate talking to this girl. Somehow she knows my name when for the life of me I can't remember hers.
"Youji, I said we should get out of here," She leans in close, stinks of tropical shampoo and too much perfume. I can feel her hot, alcohol-tinged breath on my cheeks.
"Don't you want to stay and dance? I'll get you another drink," I smile charmingly, find myself even pulling back a little. Her vermilion locks don't look right. The style is too short. It doesn't fall at the right angle. I take in her garish makeup, the sheer lace top. A flash of electric blue lingerie flashes underneath her skirt between her legs as she ventures to kiss me behind the ear. I don't bother fighting her off. Before I can stop it or even begin to think about it, we're in my car. Slender fingers with blue lacquered nails are winding their way up my shirt. I try to focus on the road as she flicks one of my nipples.
We don't bother with pretenses, no offers of coffee behind coy smiles. In fact, we barely make it into her gaudy, studio apartment before I'm swiftly unclasping her bra strap, a growing erection pressing against her thigh. She emits little sighs of pleasure, some of which sound like a fake attempt to entice me. I'm trying to drown them out – drown everything out – the way her lips are too soft, her nose too wide, the exaggerated curve of her hip and her two fleshy breasts as they push up on me. I pull her bright blue thong down her legs, passed dimpled knees and then small round toes. I pause at her ankles and gradually make my way up but instead of smooth skin, I imagine them marred with an assassin's scars.
I push deep inside of her, perhaps a bit too quickly, a bit too forcefully. I don't pause for the niceties, I just close my eyes and think of someone else. I try to imagine what it would be like to see his elegant features contort, tiny beads of sweat forming across his forehead. I wonder what he smells like, tastes like, how experienced he is. I wonder how it would be to force myself on him, to see him beneath me, helpless to my ministrations. It's at this last thought that I feel the onslaught of orgasm and collapse helplessly onto the sweaty heap beneath me. She's writhing, moaning, clawing into my back but as reality sets in I'm disgusted, mostly with myself.
A few hours later, I park haphazardly outside the Koneko, half of Seven's tires are on the sidewalk. I stumble out of the lopsided car with a half-drunk bottle of Smirnoff spilling onto my leather boots. I mumble a few swear words to myself and look up at the closed shutters in a daze. My bare skin feels hot against the cool, early morning air. I take another gulp from the bottle. It goes down like water. I decide it's time Aya and I have a small chat.
I knock heavily on his door. Without even noticing, I throw my whole weight into it and start slurring his name repeatedly until he swings it open so quickly I trip onto him. I drape lanky arms around his thin shoulders and lean back just enough to look at his face. "Aya…" I can tell I have a sloppy grin on my lips but I try to hold it back, to look stern, "You… I mean me… I mean… well, I wanna talk to you."
He pushes me back forcefully and I slam into his bedroom wall. "Go to bed." He doesn't raise his voice. He doesn't have to. Somehow this is worse.
"I just wanted to apologize about this morning…" I take a small, unsteady step towards him.
He starts pushing me out of his apartment. I try to fight back but all I can muster over my shoulder is a hasty, "but Aya!" before he slams the door in my face. I slump down onto the floor and sigh heavily. It's only a few hours later, as I wake up in a puddle of my own drool staring at Aya's immaculately clean socks, that I begin to take in the damage.
Author's note: thank you all for your reviews. They are most encouraging! Particularly Caval, at one point I was considering abandoning this fic with all its flaws and clichés and your review made me see it in such a better light I just had to continue. Quick response to AeryonSun, after rereading everything, I realize that this fic could almost work with no chapters, as one solid story. Part of the reason why the chapters are so short is I think it sort of goes with the quick rhythm of the story. I think it can work as either a bunch of short chapters or all in one – probably better as the latter but it's too late, I think, to go back on that now. Actually, I have now re-edited the story and I much prefer the chapter organization now.