Cigarette Juice Box
Chapter 2: Issues in Security
WARNING! Angst
Omi slid into his computer desk with such familiarity that conscious thought was no longer needed to make the gentle strokes to turn on the machine in front of him. He listened to its comforting hum with a sense of contentment for a moment before slipping into the computer chair. As the screen popped up the usual inscribed code proceeded to show, as it always did, until the code was broken. An old, nervous habit, perhaps from when they had to hide themselves from prying public eyes. Of course, the same coding was used now to block something much more precious, much more personal than any of the information Weiß had ever handled.
The boy glanced around the room and sighed, convinced that his team wouldn't return until late or, in Ken's case, early. Now that Aya... Now that Ran was living with his sister the occasional visits usually consummated of picking up and dropping off Ken from his various runs. Omi chuckled to himself, thinking of how pleased Ran must have been when he found that Ken's bike was stolen. Although he didn't show any obvious emotion, Omi knew that his red-haired companion had to have been ecstatic. It was just another reason for him to cover up his apparent attraction for the boy. Perhaps he didn't see how plain it was, or perhaps he himself hadn't figured out his feelings or why he had grown so close to Ken within the past year since Schwarz's supposed death.
A bit antsy to log on, Omi rapidly placed the keystrokes to unlock the heavy security placed on the PC. A document popped up, filled with typing and dates and at the end, a flashing black line urging him to continue writing. With Ken working and Yohji clubbing, Omi had the house completely to himself and secrecy needn't be involved when it came to typing in this document. Little did Weiß know that, if they really wished to know what the boy did late at night typing at the computer, they could easily log onto the Internet and find the entire (though vague) account of Omi's life since Weiß had formed.
Now his fingers hovered over the keys as though trying to figure out where to begin. He tapped on them experimentally a few times, but stilled shortly afterward in thought. Many posts had come previous, explaining the situation of things wandering through the boy's mind. Many revolved around his wish to be understood or longing to give up this life engulfed in darkness. Every time these posts were cast aside and he continued living the masquerade that was his life. Taking a deep breath Omi put fingers to keys once more and words were quickly tapped onto the page.
"March 2,
"I once heard a song and all I can say is that it explains many things about me others wouldn't recognise on my face. Every thing is just like this... 'I can't change this feeling, I'm way out of touch. Can't change this meaning when it means too much.' I could place the entire song and it would tell you everything lurking in this brain of mine. Lately it seems as though someone is toying with my thoughts and, going through the crisis as I am now, it's quite difficult to ward off the nightmares. I'm not so confused anymore. Or at least about "Playboy." He wants me to love him. It's a nice thought, but I hardly know anything about him. All anyone's ever seen until now is the mask of the, well, playboy and I've just skimmed the surface of him, of who he is.
"But then there's this voice that's been calling to me. It plagues me until I can't tell if it's me thinking… or if these thoughts are someone else's. You would be confused, too if you've ever experienced his manipulative voice. It's slightly nasal, the voice of a German, constantly tickling and flicking at your thoughts and erasing them, twisting them and making them his own. Along with all of the words are the lingering green eyes on your back, in your mind, created in the veins in your eyelids. I had a run in with him about a week ago, if any of you have read it. Schuldich. I don't know what he wants with me now. The ritual can't be complete until Nagi does what he's going to do, but I haven't seen him anywhere. At times there are grey blurs or startling hard eyes, but none of them turn out to be him. It's just something that I have to wonder about. Would Schuldich come after me and finish the job, leave Nagi out of the circle? I can't tell if I'd prefer that to the anticipation.
"Either way I know that it's not the probing he usually does. 'I've got somebody else's thoughts in my head, I want some of my own.' It's driving me crazy. I haven't been acting like myself lately. It's almost as though I'm looking at who I was and who I am now and not recognising myself. Instead I see someone else and I remind me of something... of someone. I can't possibly have changed that much, can I? Of course, one would think that with such a traumatic experience I would grow bitter or timid. To tell you the truth, it doesn't mean anything to me at the moment. I'm coping. What else can a person be expected to do? Try to turn the culprit into the police? Sure, as though that would help. If anyone recalls the collapse of the Takatori manor and research facility, it can be said that the house was levelled by only one member of Schwarz.
"But still this voice pulls at me, trying to get me somewhere where no one is. It's times like those that I have to try my best to resist it, as hard as it may be. But... I've been getting wanderlust, even without Schuldich poking and prodding my thoughts. I want to go to the store or to the flower shop or even to the library. Geez, I don't care anymore. Perhaps being locked in the house does that to a person.
"That and it makes me grouchy. I'm a guy who likes sunshine. I like to walk down the street and feel the air on my face. Without it I'm as stiff as Abyssinian. I get upset and I say things I don't mean, but no one understands that. They almost seem to expect me to act completely normally… ignore the whole experience.
"They don't understand a lot of things. Since my birthday, Abyssinian has been giving me these looks. I don't know if they're angry or scrutinising. I can't tell. Maybe he's being protective, but I don't know anymore. At times it seems as though he's glaring at me like I was a whore. You know, that horrible, degrading stare that pleasant churchgoers give women other than themselves. Abyssinian certainly isn't a churchgoer, but it seems as though he's lost his respect for me since I had my incident and now I'm more of a child in his eyes than I ever was. Can't be helped, I suppose, but 'I can't be the only one misunderstood.' It's not as though I enjoyed it and I can swear to the fact that I haven't done it since. To tell you the truth, I don't plan to have sex for a long time, if ever. I almost think I'd be happier that way.
"Everything's breaking down and, as usual in an occasion like this, I don't know how to handle it. I can't claim to always know what I'm going to do and I've surely never been emotionally stable. I don't mean to say that I'm fickle, but when something extreme comes into play, I have a tendency to handle it poorly. So poorly, in fact, that at times I even lose sight of who I am. I forget about the people who have helped me become who I am now, in the absence of my parents. So, again, 'I remind myself of somebody else now.' To the point that I'm losing sight of myself, again. Maybe it would be easier is I just gave up this life and continued on as Mamoru. Then again, I can't leave without knowing the people I care about will be taken care of.
" 'I'm coming closer to finding it doesn't mean anything' None of this means anything does it? All of the things that I do have no point anymore. I live to... cause a problem, I suppose. There's nothing for me to fight for, nothing for me to put my life to. After all, Kami was never watching me."
Omi hung his head in his hands, staring at the keyboard with confused cerulean orbs. He sighed, shook his head and slouched against the back of his chair. Maybe Farfarello was right. After all of the things Omi had done, it could be expected that He'd turned His back. He didn't help him after Omi'd been kidnapped, He didn't help him regain his memory afterwards, He just left Omi in the darkness to find his own light. It was the light of the cross, but not the kind one would expect. "Fucking angel..." The boy muttered, "Kami was never watching you..." Weiß's cross was the guilt that they would carry on their backs until their hour of death.
The boy pulled himself up from the chair and stretched in an attempt to clear his head. "Well," He decided, pulling on his jacket and toboggan, "No one's here to keep me from leaving." Catching a glimpse of his own stiff, bruised fingers he resolved to grab his darts just as he headed out the door.
Omi was thoroughly relieved to find that it had stopped snowing. However, winter still held nature firm, so low grey clouds blocked sight of the moon. The blonde pulled his jacket firmly around himself and skipped down the front steps. Just as he walked out into the night, a few fat drops of rain splattered against the pavement. Just my luck. He thought to himself. "The one day I get the guts to leave and..." He cut off his own sentence as the clouds grew suddenly dark and lightning illuminated the sky in the distance. Instead of turning back, he shoved his hands deep into the warm confines of his pockets. An icy wind was blowing in from the west. It sent small, delicate shivers down Omi's spine. He couldn't help but smile. Although the weather was down, Omi was nonetheless exposed to it again. It blew against the skin of his face and raised the small blonde hairs on the back of his neck as he strode down the street. Here, now outside in the oncoming storm, the darts settled comfortably in his palm, giving him a sense of security that had long left and so he held his head high.
Around the corner he knew there to be a sweet shop. Of course Omi had left his money at home, but he'd also left his sweet tooth and so decided to merely gaze at the candies from the window. As he rounded the corner he found the window slightly dimmed and surrounded by onlookers. Cerulean eyes caught a glimpse of toys moving and then resolved to join the girls in watching. His gaze rested on the moving machines and a smile came to his face. Others soon leaned in together and whispered, giggling and pointing at him. Omi paid them no mind and instead pressed his palms against the window to openly stare at the soldiers raising their guns and swords against each other above the open chocolate boxes and jars of hard candy. Omi could only imagine them using the candies as barricades. Each toy seemed to be illuminated by it's own coloured light to draw attention to the window. His breath began to fog the window, so he pulled back to wipe the glass. The giggling had grown and Omi gave in to his urges and turned.
His gaze began at the shoes; the black hiking boots were slightly covered by the indigo jeans. Following up the denim upon the long legs he met the striped forest green and gold hem of a letterman's jacket. The bulk of the jacket was the same green as on the hem as he followed it up. Around the neck of this onlooker lay a hemp necklace with small terracotta beads. Omi swallowed and plastered a smile on his face. He met the ends of deep crimson hair, a permanent frown, then the half-western nose and finally hard violet eyes. Omi gave a nervous laugh. "Ran... em... Aya, I wasn't planning on seeing you here." The man, in reply, furrowed his eyebrows and drug the boy to his car waiting on the curb. He opened the door and threw the much smaller boy onto the passenger's side before crawling into the driver's seat.
"What were you doing out there?" He demanded coldly from behind the wheel as he revved the engine.
Omi slouched deep into the seat. "I've been locked up for a full week, Aya. Be realistic, I can't stay inside forever."
Aya sneered, revealing a row of pearlescent teeth and continued, ignoring Omi's comment. "Who knows if there are still people watching for you out there." The car sped down the street, past the apartment and Omi knew that this was going to be a long conversation. "I knew that good for nothing would leave you alone." He rounded the corner, heading for the cafe, it seemed.
The younger boy glared up at him with hard, sapphire eyes. He wanted so badly to tell him how he saw things, but Omi knew that he couldn't snap at Aya no matter how much he wanted to. He was Omi's leader, after all. "I haven't gone anywhere no matter if it's with someone else or not. For crying out loud, I haven't even been to school. I've had to have Yohji call in as my father to explain my absence."
"School is the worst place for you to be. It's a routine that anyone could easily catch on to." Aya was no longer sneering, but the frown still hung prominent on his face. His eyes were blank, showing nothing whatsoever. "If they really wanted, they could have shown up at the apartment."
That thought had never occurred and it could have very well have been that he was least safe locked in the apartment. For that matter he hadn't locked the front door or any of the windows, not that the windows would matter to begin with when someone could easily break one and get in anyway. Apparently Yohji and Ken hadn't thought of that either. Then there was the blinking document on the screen of his computer... "Aya, turn around!" The thought was sudden and without real reason. The car kept going forwards. "If they're looking for me then they'd check the house."
Aya didn't make a move to turn. "That's what I was saying before. That's all the more reason for you not to be there."
Omi was sitting up straight, worry spreading through him, starting at his stiff purple fingers. "You're taking care of Ken tonight, right?" Ken was working the late shift tonight and usually when that happened he stayed at Aya's. Now, however, Omi had to be sure that he wouldn't pass over Ken when he took his future actions.
"He gets off at three, so he said that he'd leave Yohji in charge of you." He could see the fogged thought pass over his eyes as though he were saying that it had been a daft decision. "That's why I'm taking you with me."
The boy furrowed his brows and leaned against the door, hand pressed inconspicuously against the handle. "Thanks Aya, but I can't let Yohji face Schwarz alone..." He gave a sharp pull on the handle and was immediately rolling on the pavement, scraping himself and cutting into the skin on his face. He heard the car he'd previously been in screech to a halt and he knew that he'd have to hurry else the red-haired man would catch up.
Omi pulled himself from the ground and sped off into the trees on his way back to the apartment. The storm had already picked up, fat drops falling to the ground in rapid succession; thunder cracked, signalling the complete downpour.
He'd left home without an umbrella, it seemed, telling Omi that he was going out clubbing. In reality he'd arranged a meeting between himself and the one called Nagi. The boy never replied. Yohji still kept his side of the bargain, just in case he decided to show up, but Nagi never appeared, and so the blonde man left, shrugging off the usual trail of women. Now he covered his head, trying to keep the rain off of him as he fumbled to open the door. Thunder clapped and Yohji twisted with wet hands and finally it swung open, allowing the man to rush in. He pulled at his ponytail in an attempt to ring out the rain, but soon gave up. "Omittchi, I'm home!"
The blonde pulled off his jacket and flung it in his usual fashion to the floor. Shoes sopping wet, he removed those as well and then his socks afterwards. It was certainly cold inside as well as out, but surely Omi wouldn't have left the windows open in this. "Omittchi!" He started down the short hallway into the living room where the fire wasn't lit but the heater remained on. Strange, though it seemed that the heater should've been working, the house was still bitter cold. Yohji rubbed his hands against his arms and checked the kitchen, only to find it dark as well.
Throughout the entire house no lights were on, so it seemed that Omi was asleep. He strode into his own room to pull on some dry clothes, consisting of a cream knit sweater and a pair of too tight indigo jeans. He pulled on some socks and slipped on the white slippers by his door before moving on to check on the dozing boy.
His usual three knocks sounded, but no reply came. Just like he had a week ago, Yohji pressed his ear against the door, only to find no sound but the pattering of rain. Again he rapped his knuckles against the door and again there was no answer. The man was thoroughly confused. Omi wasn't normally a heavy sleeper… He decided to call out. "Omittchi? Can I come in?" Just the wind replied on the other side. He turned the knob to find it, strangely, unlocked. It swung open easily on its hinges and Yohji entered.
At first the sight didn't register. The window was open wide, allowing rain to stream in and be absorbed in the carpet on the floor. His computer had been left on, icon blinking at the bottom of the screen as though begging to be continued. His room lay in complete disaster, much unlike how Omi usually kept his room. Clothes were now strewn on the ground and pieces of his favourite figurines lay smashed and pressed into the carpet. Yohji's wide eyes soon relaxed at the sight of a peaceful crumpled form lying beneath the covers of his bed.
Yohji gave a shake of his head and a smile before closing the window and picking up a few articles of clothing for the wash. Laying them on his computer chair he glanced at the contents of the document, only to read the last sentences with a start. "You're happiest in your world full of arrows. I'll break your heart, change your soul again, this time your friends..." He furrowed his brows and looked at the line above. "After all, Kami was never watching me." It seemed to the man that Omi had gone crazy. 'Kami was never watching me. You're happiest in your world full of arrows. I'll break your heart, change your soul again...' He wouldn't dare go after Kami for everything that's happened, would he? It never seemed as though Omi would be the kind of person to take heed of Farfarello's point of view.
A calm, singsong voice seemed to answer him from the bed and it certainly wasn't Omi's. "It seems as though he's talking about you, I think." Yohji spun, gazing deep into slit green eyes. The red-haired man merely smiled and continued speaking. "The Kitten could be blaming you. After all, you weren't there when he needed you most."
"Schuldich." The blonde man spat. "What did you do to him?"
Green eyes narrowed, staring more like a cat than before. "Oh, I didn't do anything to him. It was you. You let us rape him. But no, you had to listen to Aya, didn't you?" He laughed, nasal voice sending angry chills down Yohji's spine. "How demeaning," he chuckled, "to take orders from someone younger than you. Especially with as much experience as you've got, detective." He grinned and pulled himself from the bed, running a hand through long red hair. "Had you left without Aya's permission, you could have found him without a problem." He was suddenly behind Yohji, whispering into his ear. "That's what you thought, wasn't it?"
Yohji clenched his fists, knowing that any move he made would be broadcasted from his brain. "Where is he?" If only he could get to Omi's drawer... "Where did you take him?"
"Nowhere. He took himself." Schuldich answered, running his hands through Yohji's wet bangs. "He's looking for you after all. He shouldn't be hard to find." The German could feel the boy approaching, but he was still quite a ways off so his the thoughts weren't clear.
The blonde pulled away, sliding his hand into his pocket. "Alright," he began, "I want to find Omi and I know you want something. What is it?" The drawer was still out of reach, but Yohji dared not linger on the thought. It didn't seem as though Schuldich noticed, since he moved away from it to place himself on the computer chair.
Schuldich pulled his hands up over his head with a smile. "What do I want? Now there's a question. It's nothing much at all. I want the same thing as you." He winked a bright green eye. "I want to find your beloved 'Omittchi.'" It didn't seem right to Yohji at all. There had to be something behind it, but with Nagi missing Schwarz surely couldn't go on with their operation, could they? "So let's make a bargain. I'll help you find him if--"
"No." He interrupted, suddenly steadfast. He saw the anger begin to flow into short-tempered eyes. "Omi is none of your business!"
The German pulled himself from the chair to stare eye to nose with the incredibly tall Yohji Kudou. "The Kitten is plenty of my business." It was apparent now that Schuldich was short on time and wasn't about to make any pointless arguments. "He is trying to kill you, you know, so wouldn't it be better if we took him off your hands? We would forgive all of Weiß's sins once we're finished in exchange for your cooperation." Beneath deeply furrowed brows there creased a deep sneer. "Who cares what happens to him as long as all of your sins are paid for? As soon as you give the child to me, Schwarz will be out of your sight and so will your endless murders."
"I don't care what happens to me. I am his team-mate and I won't allow you to have him."
"So let him kill you. Chivalry will get you nowhere, Kudou. Turn your back on your allies and let him kill them, too, because that's what will happen." He pulled back to the window and spun to face Yohji once more, a smile now plastered on his face once more. "He's going to save you for last, Kudou. Your little Kitten's going to break you apart, piece by piece. He'll chain you up and take real good care of you. Nice and slow..."
The door flung open to reveal Omi, soaked to the bone with the darts at the ready, aimed at Yohji's back. He spun, green eyes scarcely comprehending the sight. Omi, who had only the week before promised an attempt to love him, now held poisoned darts ready to kill him at any moment. The cerulean eyes seemed filmed over and Yohji realised what it meant to be blinded by fury. Blonde brows furrowed deep into his brow and the man allowed his arms to go limp.
Omi tensed his grip on the darts, staring past Yohji and into his soul, searching for the movement of his heart. For a moment the man's heart caught in his throat and he fought to inhale. What those jade eyes beheld had barely enough time to catch, much less react.
Strong arms snaked around the boy's throat and abdomen, holding him tight. "Don't be sad, Kudou. I'm only protecting you." Then he saw Omi's brows furrow and he flipped one of the darts, stabbing Schuldich full in the wrist. The German threw up his arms, thus releasing the boy, to yank the poisoned tip from his oozing flesh. He bore it before slit eyes and gave a sadistic smile. "I'm proud of you, Kitten. I'll have to be weary of you in the future if you keep blocking your thoughts." Then he was gone, suddenly and silently, out the door or perhaps out an open window.
Omi fell to the ground, gasping for breath. He'd fought the entire time to slowly regain it, but after that last burst of adrenaline he'd reached his limit. He swallowed in great mouthfuls of air, clenching at the ground as he did so. Cerulean eyes lost the film now and he fell back on the ground to stare up at the ceiling, but only found a rather confused Yohji gazing back through gold-flecked green eyes.
Just as Omi pulled himself off the ground there was a loud slam, which caused the boy to pull up his darts once more. Then cue Aya, bursting through the door in a rage. Violet eyes fumed with his brows furrowed deep over them. His crimson hair was slightly mussed from his dash in the door and his jacket no longer hung closed around his frame. His jeans were soaked nearly up to the knee, but still he held himself tall and angry. He eyed Yohji for a second and let out a growl. "Do you two have any idea how lucky you are that someone didn't break in?"
Yohji then stood from his crouch and stepped out the door, ushering Aya along with him. Omi, however stood and padded to his beloved computer. For a moment he looked quizzically at the last few lines, but shrugged it off and deleted them. He then gave a few keystrokes and the document was saved and safe behind the wards. He slid into his chair with a sigh and thanked Kami, whether or not he was listening, for sparing Yohji his life.
The explanation was more than difficult for Aya to handle, it seemed, what with Yohji meeting with Nagi, Omi jumping from the car and Schuldich inside the apartment soon after. Then there were the things that didn't match up. Like the threat to Yohji scrawled on Omi's computer. Hadn't Omi run the entire way to keep him from being killed? The option of Yohji lying had already been dismissed long before. But still the older man insisted that he not bring up what he said with Omi.
Needless to say it seemed crazy. Still he nodded and agreed, much too tired to take more than this in one night. He still had the hope that nothing would happen to Ken to add to the stress. Of course, on any other occasion no harm would have been wanted to begin with for any of his teammates. Though after the initial explanation, Yohji went a bit too far.
"If Ken had been in the same situation, you can't say you wouldn't have gone after them, too."
At this point Aya's temper snapped, pushed over the line of an already stressful day. Though his voice didn't rise from any point than it did before, the words were harsh and very cold. "Ken's not a fool, Yohji. Fools don't have the right to be saved."
The blonde man furrowed his brows and gave a quirked smile to offset the anger beginning to burn beneath the pupils of his eyes. "So he's a fool for being raped? Aya, I thought you had more sense than that."
"He's a fool for leaving." He'd already turned to head for the door, but stopped when the older man called out to him again, only just enough to hear his words before closing the door behind him.
Yohji smiled and crossed his arms. "I guess that makes us all fools, doesn't it?" There was a click of the handle and the blonde turned to open the door of Omi's room. He peeked in, green eyes surveying the mess in the moments before the boy looked up. "I don't suppose you want to sleep in here, do you?" Omi shook his head tiredly. Truthfully, Yohji himself didn't feel comfortable having him sleep in the same bed where Schuldich had laid until he had searched it thoroughly for knives or the sort. He gave a mischievous smile. "Would you protect me from nightmares, then?"
Tired, cerulean eyes met his and the boy smiled. "Yeah," he replied, for lack of a better vocabulary and slinked to the older man's side to lean against him as they worked their way into Yohji's room to sleep the night's weariness away.
Spooned securely soon after, Omi could feel the skin of Yohji's bare chest against him and smiled, touched with the distant knowledge that Yohji had the courtesy to sleep in his pants that night. The boy himself fiddled with the sleeve of Yohji's cream sweater on his own body, suddenly aware of how safe he felt here in the older man's tired arms. "Yohji?" He muttered quietly. There was a grunt in reply. "G'night."
Yohji smiled and gave a small squeeze to Omi's waist. "G'night, Omittchi." He then planted a light kiss on the boy's wet head and drifted soundlessly to sleep.
Staring at the blackened ceiling, Ran couldn't help but feel just a bit guilty for the accusatory views that he had so easily spat out. If Ken had left… If Ken had been the one to run off… wouldn't he have gone out after him? Ran hoped that he would have. The very thought of his best friend running out into the night as Omi had and… A shiver traced down his spine and he rolled over. The clock on the kitchen microwave blinked 5:09 at him.
Ken had taken the bedroom, as was expected and Ran was glad that he'd been there, waiting to be picked up as he said he would be. There had been far too many scares and far too many foolish actions taken of late for him not to be worried. Ran was feeling the guilt of Omi's fate for keeping Yohji back, but if Omi had come home, the first person that needed to be there was him. Yohji, despite Ran's usual preachings, would take the best care of Omi that he could. The only thing that would keep Omi from the safety that they offered was his own foolishness and emotionally rash actions.
Had Omi and Ken remained close, like they had been before then there may have been less of a chance of something like this happening, but who would have thought, who would have believed that Schwarz was still alive and still thirsting for immortality? And why had they taken Omi when Ran himself would have been such an easy target? If virginity was the only requirement… Ran certainly fell under that category…
Since he'd been in High school, he'd been busy with taking care of his family, helping his father in the bank and making sure that Aya wasn't slouching in school. After the accident he'd taken into Weiß and not only stopped socializing, but become absolutely obsessed with working. The thought of going out and doing something was simply out of the question. He'd watched all of the drama that came along with relationships. Yohji's partner had been killed. He'd loved her, or so Ran had gathered. Ouka had also been killed and Omi had loved her as well and even then, later they'd found that she had first been his questionable sister and then his cousin. He'd watched the heartbreak and the repercussions of the events afterwards. Although he'd not been in the same house as the rest of them, Ken had been and had confided that both Omi and Yohji had often woken with nightmares, screaming out the names of those long lost loves.
Once Ran had Aya back, he'd moved into another apartment with connections to a lease shop downstairs. They'd opened up the café and with that, Ran hadn't had the time to adjust to the thought of a relationship and now that Omi had faced a fate that could very possibly have been his own, Ran had to wonder if Omi was a fool after all.
Everyone had been ignorant to Schwarz's survival, although it should have been obvious since without something… without an extra push that had to have been from Nagi, none of them would have survived either. Since then Ran had gone off alone far more often than Omi had and in doing so he had been making a foolish decision. He refused to carry his katana. Ever since his escape from the museum he'd not touched it, leaving it for Ken to pack when he'd moved. Now it lay propped in his closet, collecting a fine layer of dust beneath his jacket, the surest sign of his own foolishness.
They had all be surrounded by the false sense of security and lulled to sleep by it night by night, but Ran could feel the cruel world reaching out to him and trying to pull him back into the darkness and block the light of all things dear to him. Weiß Kreuz. The white cross. It symbolized everything important to them and remained the standing line of hope. In an almost ironic way, Weiß had kept them in the light by sheltering them in the darkness and although they had been reintroduced to the day, the sun would be far too bright for them to handle without shielded eyes.
And if that was what had to be done, Ran, himself would shield Ken's eyes just as Yohji did for Omi. He could almost feel himself rising to protect him, rising to protect everything he loved. As he was slowly slipping into sleep, he turned towards the back of the couch and whispered to no one in particular, "I will defend my white cross…"
"I'm going to go up and try to wake up Aya, alright?" Ken called as he pulled off the green apron tied around his waist and made his way to climb up the stairs, a cup of coffee in his hand. There was a wordless confirmation from Aya-chan from behind the counter, but Ken didn't give into the urge to respond. It wouldn't be the best way to wake Aya up from one of the few deep sleeps he'd managed in a long time. He softly made his way to the couch, making just enough sound not to create the uneasy silence that would surely wake the red-haired man curled up so innocently towards the cushions.
It wasn't that Aya looked young when he was asleep, as many people would think, since there is a belief that the sternest people look the most innocent in their sleep, but there was always a simple serenity in the unusual relaxation in Aya's stature. The same man, while awake, would be stiff, formal and cool to just about anyone… or at least, that's how things had been before Aya-chan had woken up… but always when he slept those furrowed eyebrows would lift and the stern line of lips would soften and part slightly as all of the tension of his muscles would just seem to flow out of him in that final sigh before sleep.
Ken always hated having to wake him since Aya was so often awake so late giving him a ride to and from work. There was a certain guilt that came along with causing his leader's forced insomnia, but the fact remained that it was nearing noon and Aya-chan had started to get a bit nervous… no, more of she'd become anxious, restless and even a bit pushy… to get her break and what with Ken not actually being a worker, he couldn't take on care of the shop on his own for very long.
So he slid up to the couch and sat on the coffee table in front of it, holding the mug in between his fingers, tracing the design of the lucky cat on the front with his thumb. For a moment, Ken just watched Aya breathing, chest clenching as a reminder that he would never see this upon waking. He shook off the melancholy and bent forward slightly towards the red-haired man. "Aya…" He called quietly, not wanting to suddenly rouse the man (who would have been very grumpy if he had). "Aya, it's time for you to wake up." The man shifted slightly in response to the voice, but didn't turn over. Ken smiled. "Aya, come on, it's well past morning."
Aya shifted slightly to look over his shoulder with a single lavender eye and curled up closer to the couch. "Nn… I don't care…"
Chuckling to himself, Ken set the coffee down on the table beside him. "Your sister wants to take her break sometime during her shift. She's starting to get pretty sore about your laziness, she says."
"So she should go back to bed," the distantly awake man replied, pulling the blanket over his head.
This had gotten to be almost like a routine. Aya, amazingly enough, had never been one to be able to easily wake up from a deep sleep in any way that would keep him in a positive mood. Aya could be called a finicky sleeper, if the term made more than a little sense. Ken grabbed the corner of the cover and pulled it off of the man, who groped to find it before rolling over to sit up and glare sleepily at the soccer player. "I'm serious, Aya. It's almost noon. You should get up, you know. She and I opened shop for you while you were sleeping."
"That's right," A stern female voice piped in, a glare no less severe than Aya's own met those cold violet eyes. "And now that I'm on break, I wanted to take the time to tell you that you'll have to close for me because of it, Ran." The elder of the two sighed and hung his head in his hands, still fighting to wake up.
Ken lifted the mug of coffee. "Here, I figured that you'd need this before the afternoon rush." Without looking up, Aya took the cup and took a long drink, not bothering to flinch when it burned his tongue. "If you want, I'll look after the shop while you get ready, but I'm going to have to walk down to the park by five." Standing, the chocolate-haired man exhaled. "Don't worry, I'll be sure Aya-chan doesn't give you too much of a hard time, but I don't think I'll be able to get you out of closing."
"Don't worry about it," Aya moaned, looking up slightly and working his tired eyes into a more easeful motion. "I deserve it for sleeping in. I'll try not to take too long, okay?"
With a smile and a slight nod, Ken retreated back down the stairs, leaving Aya alone in the living room. The red-haired man took another long drink of the coffee and stood, suddenly glad that he'd taken a shower the night before, despite the time of morning he'd gotten in. Aya shrugged his shoulders and rolled his head around to loosen the muscles tightened by the slightly rough couch. "Nothing more to do than get ready…" he muttered, heading towards his bedroom.
He slid the door to his closet open and eyed the clothing with distaste. It was laundry day and the only thing left in the closet besides his trench was a white turtleneck that he usually avoided wearing. He didn't have much of a choice at the moment, so he reluctantly slid it over his head after removing his pyjamas and squeezed into a pair of worn jeans. Next came the mismatched white socks that Aya-chan had lazily thrown onto the dresser, followed by the pair of hiking boots that he'd taken to wearing in the shop. With a quick glance in the mirror and a comb through his hair, Aya headed to the bathroom to wash up.
Ken leaned with his back on the counter, lazily staring at the lines of coffee cups and seemingly endless flavours. It still came as a surprise to him that Aya had saved up enough money while in Weiß to fund a shop like this. It must've been the amazingly warm service and wide selection that kept this place running… and running rather smoothly, even though Aya and his sister were the only two permanent workers. How he'd managed to be so kind to strangers, Ken never knew. It must've been one of those slight quirks in his leaders personality that Ken had never seen before or perhaps…
"Things have changed, haven't they?" Ken asked quietly, turning to face his red-haired companion after he received no obvious response.
Aya, putting away a fresh bundle of stirring rods, didn't look up. "What do you mean?"
Shrugging, Ken turned to lean on one elbow against the same black counter top. "I don't know. You seem so much more… warm, I guess." When Aya gave him a cool askance glare, Ken shook his head. "Not like that, I mean that you don't push people away so much as you used to. You're not so closed off from the rest of the world and now…" He gestured to the shop, to the benches and stools and to the homey lights hanging from the ceiling, "Look at what it's done for you."
For a moment, Aya slowed. "This is something that I did with the money that I used to kill people with, Ken. It's not something I like to cherish."
"But you do, Aya. You know you do." He sighed. "Everything you've done, you did with pure intentions, even if it never seemed like it. You joined Weiß for your sister. To take care of her and to make sure that she got what she deserved for her pain." Ken smiled a bit, staring out into the street, watching the people go by the empty shop. "You did it all to see her smile. I'd call that dedication, Aya. Honourable dedication. Sure the course you took was a bit rough and dirty, but you've turned everything into something good, something worthwhile."
Aya remained silent for a while, putting away the stirring rods before turning to the straws. "You say these things as though you haven't done something good with it all."
Sighing, Ken ran a hand through his hair. "You know, sometimes I wonder. I had every reason to leave Weiß after Kase… but I didn't. I kept fighting without a reason and doing what we did without a righteous purpose… well, don't we call that murder, Aya? Isn't that the very thing that we were fighting against?"
"You had every reason to leave," Aya repeated, "but you stayed for some reason. A gut feeling. I really don't know why you stayed, either… but I do know that if you hadn't, Weiß would never be as quiet as it is now. We never would have made it this far and… I never would have been able to see Aya's smile." For the first time since Ken had started the conversation, Aya turned to face him. "And for that, I thank you. But you have to remember that I'm not the only one you've helped. Think about all of the kids in your league. You teach them what dedication is all about and you give them something to strive for." The barest shadow of a smile crossed Aya's face. "You can't keep bothering yourself for something that can't be helped."
Ken raised his eyebrow slowly after rolling his eyes. "Yeah, sure. Listen to your own advice sometime, Aya. Maybe it'll help out someday." He lifted the apron off of him and folded it carefully before placing it on the peg where he'd gotten it. "I've got to go. Our match will be starting pretty soon and I need to get there for warm up."
"Alright, then. I'll see you later." He paused as the younger man was walking out the door. "Hey, Ken," he called, "be careful." Ken smiled and nodded before letting the door close, the bell ringing as it was hit. Aya sighed and leaned back against the counter. It was about time to start closing.
He stepped behind the counter and pulled open the register to count the money, flipping the paper money through his fingers and depositing the coins into their own wraps before he deposited it all into the safe beneath the counter.
The bell on the door rang and for a moment, Aya expected it to be Ken, but the figure sauntering in was certainly far too tall to be the soccer player. "Hello, may I help you?"
Tracing tapered fingers along the counter, the man looked up at the menu on the wall. "Yes, I think I'll have the double shot espresso…" The voice struck a very sensitive nerve in the back of Aya's neck at the junction to his head. The almost nasal purring pulled at his ears and sent his stomach plunging with the heavy mix of fear, hatred and anxiety.
He grit his teeth together, hard lavender eyes meeting lazy jade and piercing as hard as he could into that gaze in a feeble attempt to break past those infallible mental walls. Ken was still outside and there was no way to warn him and with Aya-chan just upstairs, Aya could hardly raise his voice or get his Katana in time… Not with those searching green cat eyes probing into his mind. He bared his teeth, harshly whispering, "Schwarz…"
It seemed that Weiß wouldn't be moving so slowly anymore.