Yohji's eyes hurt. No, scratch that, his whole body hurt, but the sunlight seeping into his room through the open door made him clench his eyes shut against the glaring pain. The rhythmic pounding in his skull that sounded like some rock band gone mad didn't help much.
Wait. Open door?
He jacked knifed up off the bed only to sway dizzily as the room spun around him. The jangled twang of the off tune guitar and broken drummer that had taken up residence in his head got noticeably louder. When the room rested into a reasonable tilt instead of a swirl, Yohji felt confident enough to release the white knuckled hold he had had on the bed. Reaching up he felt the bandages around head and the nearly golf ball sized lump on his temple.
What the hell had happened? Yohji remembered the mission that they had gone on the night (was it really just a night?) before. Go in, kill the target, get out. Easy.
And it had gone wrong.
Ken had gotten caught off guard in an ambush. He had collapsed from wounds and exhaustion a few minutes after Omi had gotten shot. The devoted chibi had actually tried to rescue them all on his own. It had taken Aya, charging into the room at warp speed, katana a silvery arc above his head, to take down the guards with his deadly dance. Yohji had felt cold hands enclose around his neck and then everything went kinda blurry. He remember being slammed into the wall and having darkness erode away at the edges of his vision…
And then waking up sprawled on top of the covers of his bed.
Pushing himself up off the bed, he lurched over to the door. He had to grip the frame for a few seconds to catch his breath. Across the hall Ken's door was wide open as well. The usual mess that seemed to follow the soccer fanatic where ever he went was spread out on the floor. Soccer balls and jerseys were mixed in with random candy wrappers and the occasional dead flower. As to why Ken would want flowers in his room after spending an entire day with then in the shop Yohji had no idea, but hey, it wasn't his room.
Inside the room, collapsed haphazardly on the bed, was Ken. He was covered in bandages black with dried blood. His hair glistened with the damp gleam of wet blood. His head was turned towards the door, his mouth open slightly like a child's in sleep. There was the smallest puddle of drool on the bedspread.
Sighing with relief at finding Ken relatively alright, Yohji felt the corners of his mouth curve up in amusement. Ken looked like someone who had gone through a bit of rough sex, though the blissful expression was probably from very good drugs rather than any nighttime experimentation. Bit of a depressing thought, that.
Yohji walked on slightly steadier feet over to Omi's room. Finding the door open he looked in to see Omi curled up on the floor. One hand was tucked up under his blonde locks and the other was resting negligently on his thigh. Careful not to jar Omi's wounded and bandaged shoulder Yohji picked him up and tucked him into bed. This was harder than it should have been since the room started doing its own personal imitation of a spinning top when Yohji had bent over to pick Omi up. The blonde's incoherent mumble of protest would have made Yohji grin, except for the fact that he couldn't. All of his concentration went into staying vertical.
After a few seconds of struggle Yohji had gotten his body, and the room, under control. Satisfied that both Omi and Ken were, while a little worse for wear, alright, Yohji went to stand in front of Aya's door, the only one of the four that was closed. Reaching out to knock on the door, deliberately making the sound to soft to be heard, Yohji waited a second before barging in, his little white lie prepared.
"Now, Aya, don't kill me. Omi order me to come in and check on you since…"
He stopped mid-sentence, staring at the picture before him, for a second forgetting to breathe. Then he lunged toward the bed.
"Shit, Aya."