I warned you that this chapter was a little different.

Yohji's lips were…warm.

He filled his senses – every last inch of him. His scent – spicy sweet, bright, warm – like the morning breeze coming off the ocean combined with the lingering aroma of cigarettes and alcohol filled his entire world. His taste was rich, heady, irresistible as it lingered on his lips. The sound of his soft, warm chuckle as he pulled away banished all darkness.

And then there was the feel of him – so very warm and inviting, like a fire searing away the cold.

"Now," Yohji breathed, sliding a hand back through Aya's hair. "That was definitely worth waiting for."

It felt so strange to be touched. Strange, unfamiliar, but not unpleasant.

No, Aya decided, leaning into it as Yohji once more stroked a hand through his hair. Not unpleasant at all.

"Wouldn't you agree?" Yohji asked, eyes gleaming mischievously.

'Choosing' Yohji Kudoh had been more of an accident than a choice. As far as Aya was concerned, he'd had very little say in the matter. He had tried to fight it, but the damned man had just been so persistent. It may have been Aya's idea, but Yohji was determined to see it through.

When they had first met, Aya had been little more than a ghost. The fact that his physical body was, technically, still living – was walking and breathing, rather than rotting in the grave it deserved – meant absolutely nothing. Ran Fujimiya had died the day his world had shattered, and the fact that his body had yet to catch on mattered less than nothing.

Krittiker knew him far too well: he wasn't an employee, but a weapon. An unsheathed blade waiting to be used did not care who it cut or when it was discarded. Those who met him, from employers to teammates, instinctively knew this about him, even if they didn't recognize that they knew it.

Everyone, that was, until Yohji Kudoh.

Never once had the blonde acknowledged that his quiet, unfriendly team leader was nothing more than a weapon. Yohji had been the one to name him Aya, and by doing so give him his first real hope of life in years. It was Yohji who had taught the rest of Weiss, through example, to treat him as human. Ken and Omi were good men, but they probably would not have ever looked twice at their resident ghost had Yohji not so brashly harassed him that first day.

And knew that was the reason he'd always been so attracted to the lanky blonde. Before Kudoh, he had always been content to waste away…but…being alive again…

Being alive again felt amazing.

So when Yohji recently began forcing even more life into Weiss' ghost, Aya had found himself becoming a little…addicted. Permitting – perhaps even encouraging – Yohji's sudden attempts at friendship had led to the blonde not only encouraging him to date, but also offering to find him partners. Aya had realized, with the surprise of a waking sleepwalker, that the man was an entirely physical being.

The only way to keep him, and the life he brought, close, Aya needed to tie himself to the man physically.

Aya had made his decision. He was even happy with his choice. The prospect of living again gave him more hope than he'd felt in years.

And although he knew he didn't deserve this life – didn't deserve to enjoy it or anything in it – he liked feeling human again.

And he liked Yohji.

"Aya?" the blonde asked, hand falling away. "You still in there?"

He blinked, coming back to himself quickly, and his companion gave a small laugh.

"Guess I'm a better kisser than I thought," he murmured, smiling warmly. It wasn't just the way Yohji treated him that made him so dangerously irresistible to Aya – it was important to remember how devastatingly distracting his appearance could be.

Aya looked away, wrapping his hands around the mug of coffee in the hope that its warmth would be enough to distract him from the other man's vibrant fire.

It didn't help.

He shivered at the feel of those long fingers pulling slowly through his hair. Yohji's body was like a furnace next to his – sitting so close, so warm, breathing life back into his own dead flesh.

"If you want me to go back to my own side of the table, just say so," Yohji murmured, his tone more serious now. Aya's body acted without permission from his mind – relaxing into the other man's soothing touch. "I'm willing to go as slowly as I need to if that's what it takes to keep you from getting scared."

"I'm not scared," Aya mumbled.

No, 'scared' wasn't a strong enough word. He felt too close to being happy.

He was terrified.

In a way, it would have been easier if he wasn't so sure Kudoh was being honest with him. He wished he could summon the will to decide he was lying.

Fighting to feel alive again meant fighting against every instinct he'd spent the past several years cultivating. He couldn't readily accept pleasure – he knew he didn't deserve it. If he could convince himself that Kudoh was lying about wanting something real with him, then the guilt he felt about enjoying the man's company would have been far more manageable.

Yohji wasn't lying to him. Yohji wanted a real relationship.

"What was that?"

"I said I'm not scared."

Worse than guilt – and the truly frightening thing about the entire situation – however, was the fact that, to keep Yohji close, to give him the relationship he wanted, Aya was going to have to do two things he hadn't done for anyone since the day he became a murderous shadow.

He was going to have to open up to Yohji.

And he was going to have to trust him.

"Aya?"

He opened his eyes, not even realizing he'd closed them. Lifting his head, he looked at Yohji.

The blonde smiled.

"You haven't heard a word I've said, have you?"

"You…were speaking?"

Yohji laughed. Brushing hair out of Aya's eyes, he kissed his forehead gently before rising and moving back to the other side of the table.

"Let's finish this up and head back," he suggested, motioning to the brownie.

Aya nodded, but was hesitant to reach for his fork. His sister used to tease him about his weakness for sweets; he'd barely touched sugar since her 'accident.' It was another one of life's joys that he had taken care to deny himself. Aya-chan couldn't enjoy them, and so what right did he have? It was a small price to pay if it did anything at all to make up for surviving.

But it had tasted so good…

"Come on," Yohji urged. "What – you want me to feed you?"

He stared at him in horror. No, he certainly did not want to be fed.

"I'm full," he stated.

Yohji frowned. "Don't go all cold on me now," he said, nearly pouting. "We were doing so well!"

"Don't talk to me like I'm an idiot."

"Aya…" he made the name a sigh. The blonde wasn't a fool – he could see that Aya was more than willing to step back and take away all of the progress they'd managed to make today.

The fact he was able to read him so well was both terrifying and attractive.

"Just have a little more," Yohji pled at last.

"I don't want it."

"Why the hell are you so determined not to enjoy anything?"

The question hit far too close to home.

Glaring, Aya picked up his fork.

They stood together under the restaurant's wide awning, watching the rain pouring down.

"It's really started to storm, huh?" Yohji asked. Aya suspected that the man was only stating the obvious in order to have an excuse to break the silence.

Aya grunted, wrapping his arms around himself.

"I'll run get the car," Yohji offered. "You wait here."

"What?"

He grinned down at him. "I promised you wouldn't get wet, right? I'll be right back."

"Wait!" Aya's hand lashed out, gripping Yohji's arm. The blonde stared at his hand for a long moment before stepping close to him.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Don't…don't bother."

"What? It's no problem."

"I'm not going back to the shop right now."

Some teens, screaming playfully and running in an attempt to escape the rain, hurried under the awning with them. As they stood, laughing and trying to wring themselves out, Aya stepped closer to Yohji.

"Won't Ken be expecting you back for the rest of your shift?" Yohji asked as the other people began to at last head into the restaurant. "It's not like you to skip out on work."

Their bodies weren't touching, but still, standing so close to the man, Aya felt warm.

"With the rain, we won't be busy," he stated. And Aya had worked solo on busy days due to such excuses as 'the game ran over,' 'we went out to celebrate our victory,' and 'I lost track of time' too many times for the athlete to dare to become cross with him for not returning to work. "I…have something I need to do."

"Then I'll come with you."

"I need to do it alone."

"Then let me give you a ride."

He shook his head, forcing himself to step away from the man.

"I'll call a cab," he said.

"What – so you're done with me for today?"

He shook his head. "I'll see you tonight."

Still the blonde hesitated. Aya scowled.

"Kudoh."

"It's just…" Yohji's hand rose as if to touch him, then fell away harmlessly. "I have you now. How do I know if you'll be this sweet tonight?" he sharpened his glare, and Yohji laughed. "Okay!" he relented. "Okay! So you're not sweet. You sure I can't give you a ride?"

"Goodbye, Yohji."

"At least you're not last-naming me," he chuckled. "I guess I'd better quit while I'm ahead."

Aya had been hoping for another kiss, but Kudoh was clearly unwilling to take the risk. The blonde only smiled at him warmly, and waved, and strode off jauntily into the rain.

It always struck him how small she looked. It was painful – a true, physical pain – each time he saw her so still, so silent. Sometimes, with an ache so powerful it stole his breath, his traitorous mind told him that this deep, endless sleep was a crueler fate than death for such a bright, lively girl.

"Aya…"

Her hand was cold in his, and small, and so very pale. There was no substance to her – her skin felt as thin as paper, and looked nearly translucent. He often heard the nurses complain about how easily she bruised when they changed her IV or tried to bathe her.

"Forgive me," he whispered, and his voice broke a little.

He was so lost.

Aya had been living like a dead man. He felt like the walking dead – lumbering after those responsible for his pain, starving for revenge. His was the only life to continue, and he used it to walk in shadows.

He knew vengeance would not open his sister's eyes. He knew retribution would not bring their parents back from the grave.

And he knew the terrible evil he committed by stealing the lives of others. By bloodying his hands, he forfeited forever the right to be in his beloved sister's life, should she ever wake.

He had made his decision, and there was no going back. What was a little more guilt staining his soul?

"I think…I really like him."

Every night he dreamed of her. Waking at last, she ran to him, laughter and joy in her face. She embraced him tightly and he could feel her arms around him, and he could feel her love, and then she pulled away and stared at her hands, and they came away red from the blood that stained him.

He deserved his ghostly existence. He had been content to suffer in the darkness and the solitude he earned with his actions. The life Yohji Kudoh brought to him was far from what he deserved. He was tempting the fates by daring to look for anything that could make him feel good or safe or happy.

But…

"I can't fight him," he whispered, pressing his hand to her cheek. "I can't fight myself."

He had taken on the burden of their family's vengeance. He had sworn to give up everything – his life, his very soul – in its pursuit. Would he ever be forgiven for breaking his vow?

"I didn't mean to let this happen," he told her still, silent form.

The rain was falling harder than ever by the time he left her side. He had reached no conclusions. He felt no peace.

Aya walked home – inviting destruction. He wanted to freeze, to be numb. Surely he could a place where Kudoh's brightness couldn't reach him – couldn't threaten all he had come to know.

The shop lights were sill on, and he could see two silhouettes moving around inside. It was a safe bet that Ken had sat around doing nothing until he realized it was nearly closing time, and now he was having to hurry to get everything done – perhaps even sanctioning Omi's help. Aya wasn't sure whether to be amused or annoyed.

He went in through the back door, unwilling either to be roped into helping or yelled at for failing to finish out his shift. All he wanted was a hot shower and a quiet, dark room where he would be alone with his thoughts – where he could continue to dwell on his conflicting desires. He never had managed to achieve a state of completely zero emotions. His grief for his family never left him – that aching loneliness, that impenetrable darkness, that insatiable yearning.

He headed though the kitchen and up the stairs as quickly and as silently as possible, desperately hoping he didn't run into anyone. Especially Kudoh. The man would only confuse him all over again.

He had barely stepped into the bedroom when he realized that something was wrong. The light was on, the linens on the bed were disturbed – as if someone had sat on them. Alarm flashed in his mind seconds before something came down over his head, obscuring his vision.

Something akin to panic bubbled up within him when he heard the door close and the lock turn. Clawing at the cloth that covered his head, Aya rounded on the unknown assailant, striking out even before he could see anything.

The blow must have been wild. A strong hand caught his wrist easily but, by touching him, the attacker betrayed his location. Abandoning his attempting to free himself from the blindfold, he struck out with his other fist.

He heard a grunt, but that hand was caught as well, and the hold was transferred to the hand holding his other one. Though he pulled and fought, he couldn't get free.

And then the cloth fell away.

Yohji raised his eyebrows, grinning at him mockingly. "Hell, Aya – you are a vicious little bastard, aren't you?" he asked lightly.

Pulling one arm free, Aya punched him, hard, in the jaw.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded as the blonde stumbled back. He was glad to be angry. Anger he could deal with.

"Damn it, Aya! You gonna kill me for being worried about you?"

"I might!"

They stared at each other for several long moments. Yohji's grin returned slowly.

"You're soaked," he said, bending to pick up the towel and throw it back over Aya's head. "You walked home through this rain? Masochistic bastard."

"Were you up here waiting for me?" he demanded.

"Nah – I saw you through the window. Thought it'd be a good chance to get you alone again if I were willing to help you dry off."

"So you were waiting."

"Call it whatever you want," he shrugged, reaching forward to scrub at Aya's hair with the towel. "Damn but you're soaked, Aya!"

The smaller man merely stared warily.

"Why are you here?" Aya snapped at last. He was soaked, and though the weather had been turning cooler, the air conditioner was running. He should have felt cold – wanted to feel cold – but he didn't. Kudoh's warmth was too persuasive.

"Gods, but your shivering!" Yohji said, avoiding the question as he slid his hands down to Aya's shoulders and rubbed them vigorously. Heat seemed to radiate from him in waves.

Aya continued to stare at him.

"Kudoh," he said. "Why-are-you-here?"

He met his eyes. Grinned.

"I couldn't help myself," he said, in some mock parody of sheepishness. "I told you I was addicted."

"Stupid," Aya whispered, looking away.

tbc

Aya has...issues.

Response to Unsigned Reviews:

met - oh, dear. How did you do it? (grins) Thanks.

tkmaxwell777 - thanks! I'm so glad you're enjoying...

CaT70 - gasp! Are the two fics...trying to out-cute each other? The CD dramas actually say that he slept with a girl in high school, surprisingly enough. I think he was just trying to be 'normal' for his family, and plan to use it in a fic some day.

Henna - thanks!

Thanks again, everyone!