There were many things Aya avoided, because they were too painfully or too annoying. Sunburns for one, also loud music, drinking, partying... drugs. He used to avoid people like Yohji Kudoh too, looking on at those types with open disgust in high school and out around town. Those thoughtless, careless people who jumped from person to person, proclaiming love and loyalty and then stabbing them in the back.
Deception was a sin Aya abhorred above all others - perhaps it was because when he was eleven he had caught his father in the middle of a scandalous act with his mothers bestfriend, then threatened by both of them to never repeat what he saw to a living soul; perhaps it was just because it defiled his strict code of ethics. He was a samurai, after all, a katana weilding maniac who pledged loyalty for the glory of revenge and the golden gleam of a dollar.
Dispite his code, he was forced to work and interact with the likes of Yohji Kudoh, the epitomy of everything he loathed and tried to distance himself from. And then he went and fell in love with him. How insane was he?
Aya Fujimiya had always been pale, but now - staring into the bewildered face of his nightmarish enemy - he was colorless.
Time froze and a dark icy chill seemed to envelop the room as the three stared at each other. This was the part where Aya drew forth his death weapon and let out a battle cry, tearing both his treacherous lover and his damnable a foe asunder in one angst ridden blow. This was the part where the faithful and noble samurai fell weakly to the floor and covered his mouth as the bile lurched up his throat, all the while whimpering in horror as the tears threatened to fill up the floor and drown him.
This was the part where he did... something.
"Aya..." Yohji said, still seated comfortably on the soiled bedspread.
Shaken purple eyes wretched themselves from the towering psychic to the startled Eurasian.
"It's not..." Yohji pulled his bare legs over the bedside and set them on the wooden floor. "I can explain."
How cliche.
Going against his character, Schuldig had to the good grace not to look smug. Actually, he looked just as frightened and confused and GUILTY as the other two.
"Aya..." Yohji said again, his voice pleading.
Please understand. Just give me a minute, and please understand...
Aya's gaze shifted back to the German assassin, the cruel prediator whos team had been trying to kill them just hours before.
Schuldig pulled a strand of oddly died blonde-green hair away from his face and tucked it behind his ear. The act was very feminine. He looked pale.
"Aya..."
"Get out," The tone of his voice was brutal, like that of a snarling animal. Worse.
Yohji and Schuldig stared at him.
"NOW!" Aya screamed and stepped back out of the door, which he slammed shut. His hands balled into trembling fists, finger nails digging painfully into his flesh. He regarded the closed door, "GET OUT NOW!"
His scream was so off-key and hoarsed and Ken was roused from his usual unshakeable slumber. The soccer player frowned and crawled across the room, sticking his head out the door. Omi, with his jacket and backpack in hand, ran up the stairs, eyes wide.
And then Aya snapped, fell against the wall, and began shaking with dry, soundless cries.
Authors Note - there was suppose to be more to this chapter... but I'm tired. See, I can only write a whole chapter in one sitting, or else I save it and never look at it again. Don't worry, I have an ending in mind... and it's getting close to it (thank god). But, I'm going to sleep...