Things begin to happen a little more quickly from this point on. It's supposed to be that way. Chaotic, ya know?


It was nearly impossible to hear the music over the enthusiastic screaming of the crowd. Up on the stage, Narumoto looked like he had been doing this for ages.

For the first time, Aya had to admit that he was proud of the work he had done. For the first time in his life, Aya Fujimiya had earned money doing something deserving of pride.

Narumoto's second concert had completely sold out, much to the boy's wide-eyed amazement. His singles were always being requested on the local radio stations, and the release of his first CD was an event that the ten to thirty-five age bracket was greatly anticipating.

Aya's cell phone began to ring, and he stepped outside to answer it.

A bullet sailed through the air, knocking his phone from his hand, and Aya instinctively dropped to the ground, rolling into a crouch as the second bullet flew overhead.

A muffled curse from somewhere above. Aya barely caught sight of a retreating form as he looked to the rooftops.

He waited several minutes, but no more bullets came.


His cell was ruined, but Aya managed to find a pay phone down the road. Fishing for change in his pocket, he dialed a number that was far too familiar.


It had been too long, she decided wistfully, taking a moment to observe the young man sitting at one of the diner's corner booths.

Whatever trouble there might have been, the young man appeared unruffled. There wasn't so much as a spot of dust on his expensive-looking suit. His hair had grown out and was pulled back in a tight, strict braid.

"Aya."

He rose, eyes still the icy jewels she remembered.

"Manx."

"You wanted to see me?"

"Sit down."

She did as told without really thinking about it. Aya was still a leader, even if Weiss had chosen to disband.

"What is it?" she asked, strangely intimidated by that steady, angry glare.

"I want to know why I was attacked tonight."


Yohji was asleep when he heard the door open, and he only woke up enough to watch his lover enter the apartment.

"Don't yell at me for breaking in," he mumbled, snuggling deeper into the couch pillow. "Or at least wait and do it tomorrow."

"I'm not going to yell." Aya sighed quietly.

That woke Yohji up more than yelling would have.

"What's wrong, bunny thong?" he asked, sitting up.

Only Yohji could sit in rumpled clothes, half asleep, hair an utter wreck, and still look so achingly beautiful that Aya had to fight the impulse to weep.

Dropping his keys, Aya closed the door and walked into the apartment. He dropped down next to his lover on the sofa and immediately buried his face against the man's warm, strong chest.

"Aya? Love?"

How could he sound so concerned?

How could Aya ever deserve it?

"Aya?"

Yohji gently pulled away, expression filled with worry as he brushed a stray strand of hair out of his lover's eyes.

Looking into the concerned, almost frightened eyes of the man who loved him, Aya could think of nothing but the words Manx had spoken to him mere hours ago.

Krittiker had had a spy in their ranks – a spy who had learned of plans to reform Weiss and had sold the information to Esset.

This had been discovered only mere moments, by Manx's calculations, before Aya had been attacked. There hadn't been time to warn him.

"Yours was the only name they have, we think." Manx had told him, pale. "We were hoping we had found the traitor before any of you could be hurt, but I guess we were too late."

"But why risk an attack so soon?" Aya had demanded. "That agent, Manx…he was so clumsy. A joke."

"The next one won't be, I'm sure."

"What's going on?"

She had shrugged, just as worried as he was.

"Weiss held the record for highest success rate – why wouldn't they want to make sure it can never reform?"

"But they only have one name?" he pressed, wanting to make certain that his teammates – and one teammate in particular – were safe.

Manx grimaced.

"Apparently, he was holding out for more money…but Aya, this is serious. Krittiker needs Weiss more than ever now."

"What makes you so sure?"

"They have to be up to something pretty big to risk trying to take you out so soon." Manx's eyes had darkened, and she reached across the table for him. Aya drew his hands back before she could touch him. "Just think about it, all right, Aya? I know you don't have your sister's bills to worry about anymore, but it's still good money."

He had risen and walked away without a word.

"Aya? Love, what's wrong?"

Instantly, the small man was back in the present. Back in the familiar, comforting warmth of Yohji's wonderful, strong arms.

He drew back to look into the other man's eyes, saw the love and worry there, and knew he could never tell his lover about what had happened.

Yohji didn't deserve to have his peace and happiness ripped away so violently. Aya would handle the burden all by himself, so that Yohji's eyes could remain clear of the shades of the past.

"Aya?"

"Just hold onto me, Yohji," he requested at last.


Aya was on his way home from the grocery store when the second attack came. He had been almost to his car when a man had come running at him – the point being, of course, to make whatever happened look like the result of a mugging, rather than a planned hit.

Either Esset was underestimating him, or they hadn't had time to hire a more skilled assassin.

Aya disposed of his attacker neatly, leaving the body behind a dumpster. He drove home fighting not to think about the blood that stained his hands. He had strangled the man, and no blood had been spilled, but he still imagined he could see it.

This could not affect him, he told himself sternly. He couldn't let it affect him, or else Yohji would notice.

He wanted to protect Yohji from this.

Resolve strengthened, Aya took a deep breath and entered his apartment.

"Yo! Welcome home, bunny thong!"

The cheerful greeting was nearly enough to undo him, yet he managed to summon his "Yohji glare" without too much effort.

"Kudoh," he greeted without warmth.

"Aw, c'mon. You can't be mad at me for breaking in!" Yohji stooped to kiss him, reaching to tug on the low tail Aya had pulled his hair into. "I get lonely. I miss you."

"But I'm not here when you break in," he pointed out. "So what'sthe point?"

"All your stuff is here – and it smells like you."

"Now I smell?"

"You know what I mean." Another tug on the ponytail – Yohji didn't like it when Aya pulled his hair back. "Besides, if I'm here, then I get to see you the moment you come home."

"What are you – my puppy?"

"Only if that's what turns you on, babe."

"How do you know I don't go to your apartment first?"

"You don't, though." Yohji argued. He didn't, however, sound entirely convinced.

Aya sighed.

"Aren't you going to help me with the groceries?" he asked at last.

"Are there more in the car?"

Aya nodded.

"Will you give me a prize if I help?"

Another nod, this one slightly reluctant.

Excited, Yohji hurried from the apartment. Aya stared after him for a long moment before sighing and heading to the kitchen to put away the groceries. When Yohji returned with the rest of the bags, he helped him – the two of them working together in a comfortable, companionable silence.

For the most part.

"Aya? What's this, love?"

He glanced up to see Yohji with the small plastic garbage can he had bought.

"That goes in the bedroom."

"The…huh?"

Aya fished around in the bags and found another package. Hiding a sudden, unexpected flash of amusement, he tossed it to his lover.

"Wet naps?" the blonde asked.

"They go in the bedside table."

"Why?"

"Don't be an idiot, Yohji. I refuse to keep waking up to find wet washcloths molding on the floor – this seemed to be an easy alternative."

Yohji stared at him a moment more before comprehension finally dawned. A familiar, confident smirk spreading across his face, he placed both items down and hurried across the room.

Aya found himself suddenly lifted into the air and placed atop the countertop, a hungry pair of lips covering his own.

"Can we test it out?" Yohji asked breathlessly, drawing back.

"Later," Aya promised, "Tonight."

Yohji stuck out his bottom lip in a pout.

"Please, bunny thong? You did promise I could have a prize if I was a good boy."

"Why is my ass always on the top of your list?"

"Aya. Love. Have you seen your ass? It's delectable." Yohji nuzzled his neck, quickly finding the exact spot of sensitivity to make the younger man shiver and melt. "Pretty please, bunny thong?"

Aya closed his eyes, fighting to let Yohji's light and cheer fill him, pushing back the memories of what had happened in the parking lot – of the knowledge that no matter how often he washed his hands, he would never be free of the stain of blood.

"Out, damned spot." he whispered.

Yohji drew back, a hopeful smile on his face.

"You say something, lover?"

"Am I really the prize you want, Yohji?" Aya asked, shaking his head in disbelief. "You can have me any time. Wouldn't you rather have something more special?"

"You are special, Aya. Nothing could ever matter more to me."


Yohji had (mostly) only been teasing when pleading for his prize. If Aya wasn't in the mood, he certainly wasn't going to make him do anything. He loved him.

Sometimes it was hard to tell though when Aya really wasn't feeling like "playing," and when he was only being difficult in order to tease Yohji. Sometimes the man was just too hard to read – even for the man who knew him best.

Now was one of those times.

The mood had been light enough in the kitchen that Aya very well could have been teasing…but then again, Aya had been different lately.

True, the man was always rather quiet – but there were qualifiers for that silence. He could go hours without saying a word to Yohji, but the blonde would have no doubt that his lover was happy and at peace because of the tiny smile on those lips, the gentle look in his eyes, the light, small touches he would bestow on him without reason.

Lately, Aya had been the kind of quiet that meant he was deep in thought. Something was distracting him enough that Yohji could actually startle him if he came too quickly into the room.

Not only was something on his mind, but something – either the same thing that caused his distraction or something utterly unrelated – had him worried. Had Aya been anyone else, Yohji might have described him as "clingy."

Too often of late Aya seemed to want nothing more than to be held. Yohji certainly didn't mind obliging him, but between the distraction, the clinginess, and Aya's recent emotional breakdown, Yohji was becoming concerned for his small love.

They had fooled around a little in the kitchen, but Yohji was reluctant to do too much when he wasn't sure whether of not Aya really wanted to. Eventually, he convinced him to move into the living room, where they turned on some music and cuddled up together on the couch.

Aya was so quiet, and he snuggled so very closely to Yohji's side, that the blonde knew immediately that he had made the right decision.

"Do the dead haunt you, Yohji?" Aya asked when he softly asked him if everything was all right.

"…used to."

"How did you get rid of them?"

"Stopped listening."

"Mm."

Silence passed. Yohji began to slowly run his fingertips up and down Aya's arm.

"Is that's what's been bothering you, bunny thong?" he asked at last, afraid to voice the words but unable to stop himself.

Aya grew very still in his arms, then relaxed.

"No," he answered, and Yohji knew he was telling the truth. "Not entirely."

"You don't want to tell me what it is though, right?"

"Right."

Yohji couldn't stop a small sigh, letting his head rest against Aya's.

"I love you. I don't like it when you torture yourself."

"It will all be over soon."

Cryptic words, but that was Aya's way. Morbid thoughts were normal for the man and, in fact, he probably didn't even see the potential darkness lurking behind his own words.

"Yohji?"

"Hm?"

"Do you want your surprise now?"

"I thought we already did that."

"Stupid."

Throwing off the blanket, Aya rose.

"Wait here."

Yohji nodded, closing his eyes as Aya left.

His chest ached, his throat was suddenly raw with unexplored emotion. He was terrified for Aya – frightened that the man would give himself deep mental wounds by ripping open his old ones while brooding. Yohji would help him pick up the pieces, of course, but he would much prefer it if his lover were never hurt at all.

Aya returned after a few moments, a small box held in his hands.

"I wanted to save this for sometime special," the pale man said quietly, sitting beside him once more. He wouldn't meet Yohji's eyes. "I'm not very good at this kind of thing though…I probably wouldn't realize the moment was right until it had already passed, anyway."

He hesitated a moment more, then placed the box atop Yohji's knee.

Yohji only stared at it, afraid of how serious his lover was being.

"Should I have wrapped it?" Aya asked at last.

"No, no…" Yohji lifted the lid off the box, and stared dumbly down at the small key inside.

"So you'll stop breaking in." Aya informed him quietly.

Yohji looked at him, and realized with awe that the smaller man was in love with him. Aya couldn't say it yet – he probably didn't even know it yet, but he was in love with Yohji.

"Do you like it?"

Unable to answer, he kissed him quickly, messily. Deeply enough to take his breath away.

"Aya?" he asked gently. "Love?"

"What?" the redhead breathed, clearly startled.

"You love me."

"Okay…"

"You know what else?"

"What?"

Yohji leapt up and went to where he had hung his key ring so that he could add the new key to it. He shot Aya a wild grin as he fiddled with it.

"You aren't ever getting this back," he informed him. "Not ever."

Aya blinked at him a moment then, suddenly, smiled.

It was the most beautiful thing Yohji had ever seen.


To Be Continued

Response to Unsigned Reviews:

CaT70 - People can surprise you, I'll say that. So here's the new chapter you asked for. Next one should be out on Tuesday...I hope.

Moon without a Sun - It's not that Ken was really having a problem, but just that he didn't really want to get involved in the dispute between his friends. He probably never would have chosen a side if not for Miyo-chan.

Kirai - thankies!