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I Hate Him	By : animegher Category: Weiß Kreuz > General Views: 4320 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Weiß Kreuz, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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onmyou taisenki does wonders for the brain.

aimeless38 is cool

Now I re-post since I learned that during the great blowout of AFF.net, apparently files got messed up.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Weiss Kruez and Koyasu Takehito and whoever else may apply . . . I’m using the characters for a non-profit wholesome, fun plot line.

Yohji stared at the envelope against the vase in the center of the kitchen table; his arms crossed in distaste as he regarded it like one might look at ticking bomb. The arrangement of white lilies was Ran’s work, probably something the moody man had done during the night again. ‘Rent’ was written across the letter briskly, simply, in a bold thick pen, nothing unordinary. Envelopes with only one word on them like ‘electricity’ or ‘water’ for various bills was no longer surprising. Yohji paced across the kitchen and snatched it off the table, the packet thicker and heavier than one would expect from a regular letter. Aya always gave them cash for who knew what fucking reason when he barely even said more than one word to anyone else for an entire week. The envelope had not been sealed shut but the fold was tucked in instead. Yohji opened it up and did a quick count of the bills in the envelope.

"Shit," Yohji hissed, his eyebrows scrunching together as he shuffled the money back into place. He was getting so sick and tired of Aya-fucking-Fujimiya’s whole little deal with money now. There was 100,000 yen snuggled into the envelope in a strange mixture of crisp, larger bills that looked fresh from the back and the more wrinkled, smaller bills in front. One had even been taped together. Yohji considered going into Aya’s room and throwing it right back in his smart ass, arrogant face to show him just who needed his stinking money…

But, instead, Yohji clenched a fist tightly for a moment before replacing the envelope on the kitchen table up against the vase of flowers in the middle of the table, exactly where it had been before. This was going to have to stop. Yohji didn’t know where Aya could be getting the money from, but it sure couldn’t be the usual legal ways. Weiss had ended, nearly half a year ago. They no longer received any videotapes or assignments or visits from anyone in Kritiker. They might have well of died for all the contact they got, which Yohji desperately hoped for. He had grown a little sick of killing every day, the routine of pretending like it didn’t hurt wearing thinner each day until they all mutual snapped and quit.

Ken was the first to go, obviously trying to separate himself from the past life of assassination. He left like a bullet, but came back after only a week, but with a job as a soccer coach for the local children on Sundays. From then on, he worked in the flower shop like usual, not mentioning the fact that he once tore open throats with his bugnunks.

Omi had never left, and it wasn’t like he had a warm family to help him out or the resources to live on his own. The boy stayed on part-time while graduating from the high school and was now sweating out his first college finals. Omi was the still the same bright, bouncing genki kid as ever, minus a few needles and a lot less sad faces. Omi could be especially chipper first thing in the morning when Yohji wanted nothing more to sleep in. In fact, Omi had already come into his bedroom yelling about morning shift around three hours before.

Usually Aya had been the one to drag Yohji out of bed, but for some reason he didn’t take any shifts anymore. Aya never worked in the flower shop during main hours, but they could all tell he had done inventory or restocked sometime in the middle of the night when Aya should have been sleeping. Nobody had said anything yet, since everyone was entitled to be a little anti-social and for Aya to lock himself up in his room was nothing new. He had done it ever since he moved in, clearly telling them all to back off. He had just never done it for several months on end before. Aya was staying in the same house as them by the pure grace he didn’t leave his room anymore.

Yohji shrugged. It shouldn’t be his problem. As long as Aya paid the rent, there was no reason to go upstairs and piss him off. Aya’s temper had gone from hair-trigger during the mission days to constant irritation and severe tempers for something that only Aya knew. Ken and Yohji had tried to figure it out one night over a few six-packs, but they hadn’t found a single answer beyond a few drunken revelations and some gossip that would make Aya shit if he knew some of the things they had talked about. Omi had a few ideas about it as well, but it was more wondering if Aya had a persistent stomach ache, not a simple bad attitude. Attempts to approach Aya were met with violence and a hell of a lot of verbal abuse that made one turn heel and run.

Yohji himself hadn’t even thought for a second about trying to get away and starting a new life. The flower shop and the apartment upstairs were pretty much his home now. You couldn’t get away from it. He was just too bitter to go anywhere else, too jaded. He had seen too much to sit there in a cubicle. He’d start remembering things, things that shouldn’t be remembered by assassins.

There was something just holding them all there. Maybe it was the fact that they had all killed together. Maybe it was that they had shared some of the inner angst and turmoil resting inside their hearts and with each other had found someone who was able to understand each other. Maybe they all really wanted to be florists. Yohji snorted at that, crossing his arms as he leaned against the refrigerator. His gaze dropped to that damn envelope and of course, he began to think about Mr. Icicle-up-the-ass. Aya’s sister had awakened from her coma and had started attending school again. At the moment, she was doing some kind of exchange program to Africa. Something about helping villages with getting education and proper medical care. Trying to get those little details about ‘which county’ and ‘what school’ out of Aya would have been like tearing back your own nails. They had all thought that with Aya-chan alive and well and so full of energy, Aya might have returned to being Ran and maybe become, oh, social or something.

Instead, Aya had run even further away from socializing, even more so when the only thing he said all day was ‘die’ and went about killing people. Not a way to make good, everlasting friends. He was disappearing mysteriously at night, and no one saw him during the day except for the occasional glimpse of him leaving his room and going to the bathroom. He didn’t work in the flower shop, but on some random mornings there would be an elaborate arrangement, one that held more skill then any of them could ever manage. And the arrangement would always just look so lonely that it was crime to use innocent flowers to express that misery before someone would buy it.

However, these stupid envelopes kept showing up. Yohji remembered one night when Omi was on the verge of tears because he couldn’t scrape together enough money to buy textbooks for school. He could have just hacked into a credit account of some rich prick and gotten his books delivered to the shop by the next morning, but he refused to stoop to his computer skills. Ken, of course, had been totally broke and Omi refused to accept any of Yohji’s money. However, the next day there was an envelope with Omi’s name on it, with more then enough money for Omi to buy books and get lunch for the rest of the year.

Omi had tried to somehow tell Aya thanks to his face, but the elusive redhead couldn’t be found beyond the times he was sleeping in his room. Omi didn’t have the heart to wake him up, so he wrote a letter to Aya. They were still waiting for a response. Aya seemed content to be a martyr in the shadows, and it still irked Yohji that the redhead had been listening in on the conversation but hadn’t even let them known that he was in the same room. The damn bastard was ignoring everyone, except for his only family member…

Aya-chan would take flights back to Japan every now and then. The trips she made were always memorable and very happy. She would talk to everyone except the now ever-absent Aya before noticing some potted flower or sunny arrangement with a card to her, nothing more. As if Aya-chan could visit them any old time, not like she was coming in for only a few days before going back to an entirely different country. Yohji always saw that there was a ridiculous amount of money tucked into those cards along with some message that Aya-chan would read to herself, looking half-sad and half-pleased before she would head back. She had told Ken that despite the fact it was a volunteer program, they were still getting paid healthy wages by the government.

And, of course, on the first of the month like today, an envelope would show up with way, way, waaaaaay more then Aya’s fair share of the rent. Yohji looked at the envelope again and cursed. Fuck Aya and his whole self-sacrificing bit. Where was the money coming from anyway? All he did was sleep all day. Yohji knew this because of the trips he would make down the hallway and the silent opening of the door just to make sure Aya was still alive in his tomb. It wasn’t a room anymore, but more like a holding place for Aya during the day until he ventured out at night.

The last time Yohji had seen Aya was about . . . two weeks ago if he remembered correctly. The redhead had been walking down the stairs. Aya-chan had ricocheted into the shop, practically suffocating everyone with her cheerfulness, even out-cheering Omi. She told them that Aya had called her last night and apparently was going to take her out to lunch. Nobody had seen Aya yet though, so Yohji went into the apartment to go find the asshole.

He paused on the stairs, looking up. There was Aya, making his way slowly down the steps. He looked into Yohji’s eyes and froze, taking a panicky step back and catching his heel on the stair behind him, almost falling. Yohji was too shocked to even run up and try to catch Aya. The man had always been a touch on the slender side, but now the hollows of his cheeks were making shadows over his too pale features, much too pale, even for Aya. That ugly can’t-match-with-anything-if-you’re-a-redhead orange sweater, once tight and form hugging, was now hanging from his shoulders.

Aya made a grab for the banister and managed to haul himself up. He glared solidly at Yohji before continuing down the stairs. He and Aya-chan had gone off to lunch, and that was the last Yohji had seen of Aya for a long time. He’d gone back to skulking around the house late at night, only the click of Aya’s door as it closed after the redhead entered at another god-awful hour announced that he was home.

Still, that look in Aya’s eyes when he had jerked back was going to haunt Yohji. Aya was known for not showing any emotions, for keeping those damn violet eyes as blank as . . . Jesus H, he couldn’t even think of something to compare that special ‘Shi-ne and I don’t give a damn; just as long as there’s enough clean cloth to wipe the blade clean’ Aya glare that had most of those dark creatures in the dark pissing their pants.

Yohji debated between a cigarette and a diet Pepsi. He had promised Omi that he would try to stop smoking, and so instead had picked up diet soda instead, between the cigs. Another form of cancer that was so less satisfying then nicotine. But, Omi had gotten tears in his eyes and had begun to cry out that Yohji was going to die of lung cancer in a few years with how much he smoked, so Yohji had thrown out the pack he had been smoking then right in front of Omi and left to buy a twelve-pack of diet soda. And another pack of cigarettes. Okay, so he smoked when the kid was gone. But now it was outside and followed by a sprit of cologne. He had cut back severely with this new schedule, and it was killing him just like the damn phenyl . . . phenol . . . whatever hell that chemical was that made soda sweet.

He contemplated for a moment, then glaring at the refrigerator, bounded up the stairs. Screw trying to assuage his curiosity over Aya with something that was going to kill him in a mysterious medical way. If he went up and demanded answers about Aya’s new nightlife, at least he would be able to see the katana swinging at his face. It was too boring this afternoon to not cause some trouble. Aya was sure to give Yohji the kind of death he wanted: short, painless, and to the point. He would also like to leave a beautiful corpse if that could be helped, but it wasn’t a ‘necessary.’

Chuckling at his own dark humor, Yohji put his hand on the door knob across the hall from his own room and burst into Aya’s little world. He took one large step in with his mouth opened, then clamped it shut when he noticed there was still a mound lying motionless on the bed. Aya was asleep even though it was getting to be late afternoon.

What the fuck is going on? Yohji wondered furiously. At this rate, Aya was going to beat his personal record for sleeping in late. Aya. ‘Popsicle,’ as Ken sometimes called the redhead when he was safely out of earshot, Mr. Wake-up-now-for-your-shift-or-I’ll-kill-you, was actually letting himself sleep past noon. Yohji brought his feet together and felt his hand drop from the handle in a state of shock, not really sure if he was dealing with Aya anymore. This wasn’t like the man, not at all.

Aya had always been a bit on the gloomy side, but now his room was a fuzzy dark brown with the curtains drawn tightly across the window. The only light Yohji had to see by was what little sunlight was coming from the hallway. The floor was covered in clothing and Aya’s usually meticulously clean desk had bills and unopened letters pilled up. Aya, the anal neat freak, had a dirty room.

Yohji closed the door behind him, figuring he shouldn’t leave it open for Ken or Omi to come peeking in. The room plunged back into a darkness only broken by the weak light trying to come through the dark curtains. What was the hell going on with Aya? Yohji had to talk to the redhead now, regardless of if he was sleeping or not. Aya had never let his room get messy before, the cleanest out of all four of them. It was just too damn weird. Something had to be wrong with Aya, and Yohji wondered why he hadn’t noticed it before. From the clothing piled up on the floor, it seemed Aya had been depressed for a while.

And more so, it all seemed to be . . . girls’ clothing, Yohji realized in dumbfound silence as he paused in his line to Aya’s bed. He noticed a long purple dress crumpled carelessly on the floor amongst the other pieces of clothing that had gathered up on the hardwood floor. There was barely any room to navigate between a bra strung across his path, two pairs of ridiculous black high heels, and a garter belt with only one stocking clipped on. The mess only got worse as he moved closer to Aya’s bed, like someone had only the strength to take their clothes off before collapsing onto the mattress.

These certainly weren’t Aya’s clothes. Yohji nearly laughed out loud at the thought, except it only meant it all was someone else’s. And that thought was even worse for some reason. Aya must have found a woman, a stranger that had come in and gotten naked in this very room and slipped into Aya’s bed. Yohji didn’t even know why it hurt so much to find out Aya had been hiding a relationship from him when he had had hundreds of affairs with the younger man’s knowledge, but his mouth was turning sour with anger.

"You have a GIRLFRIEND?!?!" Yohji screamed out the last part at the peacefully dreaming man Oh, Jesus fucking Christ! It was worse than he could have ever thought when Yohji had first trotted up those stairs so obliviously. Aya, the only one out of them who wouldn’t know the female sex if they landed in his face, finally had a girlfriend. Granted, there was that fling with that Sakura… Sakura girl, Yohji decided after forgetting her name, but hadn’t that only been because of her resemblance to Aya’s little sister? Aya had an unhealthy obsession with his sister, willing to even kill for her, but now he had found someone new.

Whoever this girl was, she was so fascinating to Aya that he was becoming a nocturnal freak, a messy but incredibly rich boyfriend. So, this was why Aya had been acting so strange lately, trying to hide this love affair from them. Ken had trouble getting Aya to bring in a delivery of flowers and Omi couldn’t even get the man to talk to him for more then a minute. Yohji hadn’t even tried with the little prick, knowing that Aya would bite his head off for being worried over his invincible leader. Yohji wanted to punch the arrogant little bastard, but he’d have to wait until Aya woke up. He wanted to see the lying son of a bitch’s face!

There was a moan from the bed. Oh, sleeping sex beauty was waking up. How had Aya even been able to sneak a girl into his room, much less actually start making out with her and worse as all the clothes on the floor testified? Yohji couldn’t manage it without being mauled by Ken or Omi the next morning over coffee for being too loud last night. Maybe it was because he brought in the noisy girls, or maybe Yohji was good enough to make them all scream.

Hmm, there’s something to think about! Yohji tucked it away in the corner of his brain reserved for women, which was the majority of it, and shook Aya’s shoulder underneath the blanket. Aya was wrapped up in his blankets with the pillow covering his head, with the sheets all pulled out and twisted. She must be one helluva wild ride in bed for Aya to be sleeping near vertically on the bed.

"Well, who is she?" Yohji demanded, pulling back to stand over the bed as the body started to move. He waited for the answer but all he got a second moan that was much more pissed, a good sign that Aya was finally coming around. Yohji couldn’t wait to grill the redhead the second he opened his eyes. This was a good-morning Aya would never forget, Kudoh style. He was going to find out what was going on with Aya for the good of everyone living together, not because he was jealous Aya could score without getting ripped by Omi or Ken.

"Monkeys, monkeys, bouncing on the bed!" Yohji started singing as he put his hands on the mattress and pushed up and down, jarring Aya out of whatever little sleep he was trying to get. Well, now he was really moving. That could be an improvement. Yohji started to jump on his feet to make the bouncing worse and made sure to sing louder.

"One fell off and bonked his . . . head…" Yohji trailed off, his bouncing slowing to a stop as Aya’s mussed head came out from under the pillow. That beautiful red hair was greasy and the shine dulled. Aya’s tired eyes were hollow and sunken into his head and, when Yohji looked closer, darkly shadowed from either sleep deprivation or . . . mascara? His lips were swollen or just dark from smeared lipstick…

No. No, no, no, no, no. Aya might look like he had been wearing makeup last night and had been too tired to properly clean up, but that was… impossible! This was not… not something Aya would ever do, not in a million years! It couldn’t be real. The lack of cigarettes was making him hallucinate. Aya wasn’t like this!

But, right across his left cheek was a huge pale blue bruise. It had clearly been made by one big, beefy ass hand. Yohji couldn’t think of any normal hand that could be so monstrously huge to match the swelling on that delicate face. It couldn’t have been a woman’s hand, not to bruise that badly even on Aya. Yohji knew better than anyone else that Aya sucked at taking hits, because he wound up bandaging him when the redhead couldn’t stay silent anymore from the pain. By the grace of living across the hallway, Yohji had come closer to Aya than Omi or Ken, and he still didn’t have a clue to what was going on.

Aya blinked up at Yohji, for all the world looking like a son who was being awoken late for school. The blankets slipped down to show of the bony curve of Aya’s hips. Yohji couldn’t help letting his eyes drop down to Aya’s skin, unable to resist studying the erotic dip of flesh underneath the bellybutton on any person. Then, Aya’s face turned red and Yohji belated realized that the man didn’t seem to be wearing any clothes.

This is going to be one of those days, Yohji thought before all hell broke loose.

"Get the hell out!" Aya roared, launching into motion even though he had been dead asleep only moments ago. He looked ready to kick Yohji’s ass, except Aya couldn’t seem to get loose from the sheets. It only served to make the thin man even more furious as he was tangled up even further in his sheets.

"GET OUT!!! What the fuck are you doing in here?! You think you have right to enter my room?" Aya started, getting louder with each word. Yohji had definitely picked the wrong day to stir up the beast, because Aya’s temper seemed to be in rare form today. He hadn’t seen Aya in weeks, and the redhead was already having a hissy-fit. Couldn’t he have even asked if Yohji had been doing well during the time Aya had been avoiding them all!

"What are you doing in here, you reclusive little shit?! I thought I was kinky, but you might just be our closet sex freak!!!" Yohji shot right back at Aya, never able to restrain his temper. Something about Aya made him want to beat the living shit out of the man, when he didn’t feel like Aya was desperately searching for something to hold onto. Ever since the missions had stopped, Aya had become like this, gotten involved with this faceless bitch, whoever she was. Aya was getting hurt by this new love. Why hadn’t Yohji confronted Aya earlier about this?

Yohji felt his stomach drop like it was trying to throw his soul up. That’s not very romantic, Yohji thought to himself, but screw it all, I think Aya’s being a secretive piece of crap! He wasn’t so sure if he wanted to know about Aya’s new abusive girlfriend. The knowledge made him feel sick, even though Yohji was perfectly fine. He wasn’t the one with a bruise on his face.

"WHAT?!" Aya roared, surprisingly loud for how small he looked on the bed. "You are the nosiest, loudest, womanizing piece of crap I’ve ever seen!" Aya snapped off, not about to be left behind if they were going to exchange words. Forget feeling bad for the little bastard. Every time Yohji tried to be nice, the prick had to say things that he shouldn’t have. Yohji had never been good at control his temper, but Aya made it snap just like that.

"You’re the one sneaking around with an abusive girl, bab-eh!" Yohji sneered back, pointing to the bruise on Aya’s face. That made Aya pause in the middle of pulling the sheets up around his waist to stare at Yohji in complete confusion. The look on his face was priceless, one of surprise that Yohji could be this observant. He hadn’t been an ex-detective for nothing. Yohji noticed things about people… eventually, he reminded himself after a quick glance around the room. This had definitely been going on for way too fucking long.

"A what?!" Aya snapped as he finally managed to stand up off the bed with a sheet around his waist. Aya had a fist in the white cotton, glaring hard at Yohji for intruding on his personal life that had been so obviously shot to hell. Yohji met those violet eyes head on, not about to be swayed by how Aya’s bangs still curled around his face even though they were unwashed and flat. Yohji couldn’t get over Aya’s coloring, a rare porcelain white for any Japanese with that blood red hair. Yohji wasn’t sure if it was his real color or if he dyed it, but it made his head turn nonetheless.

What was even more laughable was Aya didn’t even have a single clue! Yohji had tried a few times to make some passes at Aya even if he was a guy. There was something about a face that beautiful Yohji couldn’t resist. If only the looks hadn’t come with a stubborn, irritating, and frosty attitude that made Yohji want to slap the man half the time. He had given up on any sort of sexual relationship with the human ice cube and was starting to doubt if it was even possible to be friends with the man. He was just so fucking irritating!

"Listen, Kudoh, and don’t forget this. Stay. Out. Of. My. Room," Aya snarled, suddenly no longer on a first-name basis as the redhead took a step forward and punctuated each word with a poke at Yohji’s chest. Aya smiled like the malicious little bastard he was at the end of it, pleased as a cat with making other people feel like shit for no reason. All Yohji had wanted to do was see if Aya was all right after being stuck up in his room for months on end.

"Oh, fuck off!" Yohji snapped, slapping Aya’s hand down. It was the redhead’s turn to take a step back, clutching the sheets higher around his waist as if Yohji might try to pull them off. The little bastard really thought that highly of himself, like Yohji might have actually desired the asshole. Guy + guy. The equation didn’t really have a lot to it, but equaled a whole shit load of problems, and he most certainly wouldn’t deal with them for Aya’s sake. Yohji wouldn’t even touch Aya with a ten foot pole.

"You don’t have to keep acting like an icicle! All you do is bitch every hour of the fucking day! You sit in this room doing whatever the hell you feel like and giving us all guilt trips over how much money you feel is ‘necessary’ to deal out! Fuck you!" Yohji snarled back, making a fist with a hand and throwing it up in the air to make his point. Except Aya flinched back at that, not with an assassin’s instincts, but something else. He had moved back out of fear.

Yohji felt a little bit of his anger bubble, and then die down complexly. He had though it would feel good to get a reaction out of Aya, no matter what it was. But, he hadn’t meant to scare Aya. The redhead didn’t get scared, ever. What the hell was up with that kind of move? Aya would usually be stepping in to punch him by now, but something was holding him back. Maybe he didn’t feel like fighting in only a bed sheet, but Yohji felt like there was more to it.

"Shut up," Aya hissed as he looked down at the floor. He may have looked scared for a moment, but the ice under his voice was fit to freeze someone’s face right off. What the hell had Yohji been thinking? There was no way he could have been intimidating Aya Fujimiya. Yohji was an idiot for even feeling sorry for the selfish bastard.

"You’re a real piece of work, Fujimiya. You walk around here like you’re still the leader. Guess what? It’s over. No more killing people. No more of this ‘Die, die, die’ stuff to yell out." Yohji started, feeling the smirk lift into an all out smile. It felt so good to finally tell Aya off. Yohji smirked down at Aya, though he was only a few inches taller. It was exactly what the little jerk-off deserved after making Omi and Ken worry so much. Personally, Yohji didn’t give a rat’s ass, and now he was reminded exactly why.

"Did that get through to you or do you still just wanna whore out those killing services?" Yohji started again, leering as he moved forward to add more.

Aya’s fist connecting hard to the center of his cheek stopped Yohji harder than a brick wall would. He staggered, nearly losing his balance for a moment as his vision wobbled. Everything just felt a little unreal for a moment. The world finally stopped swirling and Yohji lifted one hand up to his cheek in disbelief. The skin stung and Yohji pulled his fingers away and saw a little pink smear of blood there.

"Shut up," Aya seethed, his fist still clenched. There was a little bit of blood on his knuckles. The little asshole had busted his face! Aya had fucking split his cheek! Yohji winced at the swelling on his cheekbone, wondering just where the hell that blow had come from. What the hell had done to deserve such a blow? Yohji straightened up, pulling his hand down from his face. Aya was glaring at him fit to kill, his eyes glancing once to where the katana was resting.

"Can’t say anything back so you’re just going to physically end this? You’re such a weak piss off, Aya!" Yohji snarled, trying so very, very hard not to take Aya’s head and smash it against the wall. How dare he punch him just because of a little argument! It was fucking pathetic; the way Aya was acting like a child. Aya’s parents hadn’t slapped him anywhere near enough when he had been a kid. The little shit just didn’t learn as the redhead opened his mouth, likely to say the same thing again.

"I won’t fucking shut up! You shut up! You are a pathetic piece of work! Did God just forget to add emotions when putting you together, or did you just pop out a bitch? I swear, you’ve got more PMS then all the women in the world combined!" Yohji yelled before Aya had a chance to tell him to shut up again. He was so damn sick of the saying already just because Aya had used it several times. Shit, Aya just knew how to piss everyone off. It’s like he came with the manual to everyone’s buttons.

"SHUT UP!!" Aya screamed, tears forming in his eyes. Honest to God moisture in the corner of his eyes before it welled up and poured out over his face. Yohji didn’t know what to do, watching the tear make a slow path through the glistening traces of what looked to be blush. Had that bitch worn so much make-up that it wore off on Aya when they made out? Yohji felt like he should tell the woman to hit Aya harder, because that bruise wasn’t enough to match the pain in his own cheek.

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" Aya screamed when Yohji said nothing else, over and over with one hand still clenched in the sheet wrapped around him. The other hand reached up to snake through his own hair before viciously yanking at the side of his head. Yohji blinked at that, too shocked to act as Aya started to positively freak out. There was no room for anger anymore. This had moved beyond a fight, into something that was seriously wrong with Aya.

"Oh, God, Aya, stop that!" Yohji ordered, moving in to take a hold of Aya’s hand. He hadn’t meant to push Aya this far. Aya only screamed louder and incoherently when Yohji grabbed his wrist. Yohji got a kick in the groin and an elbow to the temple for his trouble when the redhead struggled, forgetting about the holding up the sheet to punch Yohji hard in the side.

The blanket fell along with Yohji.

…

He was on the floor for some reason. Yohji realized he had fallen against Aya’s bed. Damn, but he had hit hard enough to go out for a moment. Yohji shook some of the stars from his eyes and looked across the room, confused when he didn’t see Aya standing victorious over him. . Aya was sitting on the ground in the middle of the scattered clothes and shoes with his shoulder slumped forward and the blanket slightly tugged across his thin white thighs. Aya had this absolutely desolate expression on his face, as if he had just lost something very important and didn’t even know how to cry for it.

"I . . . It . . . I’ve been . . . I’ve been," Aya started, his voice starting to hitch. His eyes were focused on the floor as his shoulders were beginning to shake. There were no words as Aya started to shiver as if he was cold, but it was more than warm enough in this boxed up room. Yohji felt the silence start to grow between them and couldn’t say a damn thing to stop it. He didn’t want to do something that would stop the fragile start Aya was making toward telling Yohji what was wrong.

"Fuck you. Get out," he snarled suddenly, trying the emotionless act again. Aya looked at some place above Yohji’s head, as if trying to see past him. Did Aya really think that he was going to be satisfied with that? He had to know what was wrong with Aya now. He considered them to be friends despite all the fights. Couldn’t Aya tell him what was going on?

"Aya. What’s wrong?" Yohji asked very slowly, damned determined not to walk out. He had never been surer of trying to stay in this room. Aya was going through something tough right now; otherwise he wouldn’t be acting this way. Why didn’t Aya think that he could come to them for help? Yohji, Ken, and Omi were more than ready to help Aya at any time. All he had to do was ask. Aya’s mouth trembled and opened like he would finally say something, then closed again.

"Nothing," Aya snapped back, looking down to the messy floor again. He readjusted the sheet to cover himself better with downcast eyes as if he never wanted to look at Yohji again. All he had done was trying to show a bit of concern and Aya had freak out like this. What exactly was going on? Yohji wanted a cigarette. Needed a cigarette. God, he wanted to get as far away from sober as he could right now instead of dealing with Aya’s personal version of male PMS. Yohji felt a headache coming on, big time, and Aya must have felt the same as he brought one hand up to his temple, trying to rub his head.

A What’s that?" Yohji asked softly. Aya looked at him, a little startled with confusion in his eyes. Yohji pointed at his wrist, where a red line was imprinted into the flesh like a bracelet. Aya looked at it like it wasn’t his, blinking down at the limb. Then, Aya dropped both hands down into the blanket like he could hide them from Yohji.

"Get . . . Get out! I’m going for a walk," Aya snapped, obviously not going to answer him. Yohji didn’t even want to think, just lunged forward and grabbed one of Aya’s wrists before the redhead could even try to scoot away on the floor. There was a struggle until Yohji stood up, stretching Aya’s arm at an awkward angle that forced the redhead to stop fighting.

In that small moment, Yohji was able to see the red scar around Aya’s wrist, unmistakably some sort of restraint that he had fought with. This wasn’t even funny anymore. He dropped the hand and Aya reached down to pull the blanket up all the way around his shoulders. Aya felt like he had to hide from Yohji. He had lived, worked, killed, and tolerated Aya for the past several years. Didn’t that mean shit to Aya?

The only noise was a car driving by outside the window. Yohji had no words to say to this. Aya wasn’t going to tell him what was wrong, and that hurt even worse than the actual silence. Aya’s face was killing him, staring at Yohji in an unbelievable mixture of fear and desperation. When had Aya become like this? What the hell was going on? When had he been tied down?!

"Get out, please," Aya whispered. It was something in that voice, so small and quiet in the middle of his dark room that made Yohji give in and stand up. Aya didn’t drop his gaze with him, continuing to stare into his eyes in a quiet and piercing manner. Yohji couldn’t turn away from Aya who looked so vulnerable and so alone at the same time. What was he doing these days?

"I’m leaving," Yohji snapped at Aya, tearing his eyes away and storming out the door. FUCK! The most empathically, substantial ‘Fuck!’ ever screamed out loud was trying to escape past his lips, but Yohji smothered it. He couldn’t yell, not now, not until he got out the door and into the hallway. What the hell had happened back in Aya’s room? He couldn’t understand this. Aya wasn’t the type of person to be restrained. This was fucking crazy!

Yohji managed to not quite stomp down the stairs and into the kitchen. He didn’t leave a note, just snatched his keys off the hook by the door and headed out toward the garage in back of the house. Yohji had managed to keep from screaming out loud, but he couldn’t help kicking open the side door to the garage. He slammed it in a most satisfying way and hit the button for the lights. At least Seven was still there; ready to take Yohji to the closest gas station.

Cigarettes. Right now.

* * *

Aya mechanically walked down the street. Left foot up, down, right foot up, down. He walked to travel to another place. Simple as that. Step, step. Aya tried to put all of his being into thinking about walking, but it wasn’t working. Yohji’s argument was still in his mind. He could still see Yohji’s eyes as the blonde looked down on him in complete disgust. He had looked ready to kill, but thankfully had left before actually doing anything.

Aya supposed he should be thankful Yohji had managed to restrain himself from hitting him. Aya was already pretty bruised from last night and didn’t need any more abuse, especially from some chain-smoking playboy who didn’t know the first thing about his problems. Why the hell had Yohji come into his bedroom this morning anyway?! What had he done to deserve this sort of humiliation! Yohji had to have figured it out from looking around the mess in his room.

"You’re a real piece of work, Fujimiya. Do you still wanna whore . . .?" The comment came back to Aya, the truth in those words hurting so much that Aya hadn’t been able to hear the rest. Yohji had been the last person he thought would ever berate him, but it had hurt worse than he ever thought it could. Aya didn’t understand why Yohji’s words could affect him so much. He had just started to respect Yohji for finally coming to work regularly, and than he had to find out everything. Yohji knew what Aya was doing.

Aya felt like he could die when Yohji had begun to yell at him. A Can’t say anything back? You’re so weak. You shut up! You are a pathetic piece of work! I swear, you’re more like a woman!" He had been avoiding Ken, Omi, and Yohji just because of this reason. Aya had expected them to not understand, but Yohji had been cruel. Every word might have been a knife for the pain it caused. He was so weak, pathetic. His life was a fucking joke.

Aya held a hand up to his head. What Yohji had said affected him more then he would ever tell the man. He felt like he was completely empty inside. He wanted to cry and scream and then Yohji would finally just tell him that it was all right . . . Aya shook his head. That was impossible. It wouldn’t happen. He might have felt a kind of childish attraction for Yohji, but he had crushed it before it could ever blossom. Kikyou and Shion had taught him to never expect love, and what reason could there be for such an experienced man to want to look twice at him?

Aya wanted a nice warm place to curl up and die in. Was that really getting to be so much to ask for? The stiffening of his legs, the pain in his groin and bladder, the tightness around his throat all were reminders of the truth in Yohji’s insults. He didn’t even deserve to pity himself. It was a laugh to feel sorry for anything when he was already so ruined, damaged. He was a failure, a fuck-up, and had finally hit rock bottom. There was nothing left to do but to try again. It was the only way to stop the aching in his heart from Yohji’s words.

What the hell was he feeling sad about? Yohji made him want to scream out loud. Aya hated him, truly despised the man. He’d wanted to kill Yohji the very first time they had met on that rooftop and Yohji had tied him up in wire. The man didn’t care about him. Yohji only accepted missions when there was picture of a pretty girl flashed in front of his face. The older man was only looking to satisfy his lust, and then would discard people.

Aya couldn’t stand that in any person. Yohji was an embodiment of everything Aya hated. He was rude. He smoked. He used women. He had no respect for anyone. He didn’t care at all for anything other than his dick. Yohji was dangerously close to being the first person Aya would ever kill with his bare hands. He’d go through with this and shove it in the man’s face. Yohji wouldn’t be able to look down on him then.

A familiar shadow fell across his face and Aya glanced up in surprise. All of his walking had already taken Aya deep into the red light district that was a good distance from the shop. He felt neither scared nor surprised. There was only emptiness, the sense of being dirty despite the clean clothes and shower he had taken, and being totally accustomed to it all at once. He had been here so many times that there were no longer any feelings of shock at the scene before him.

The streets were a mess with trash rolling across the road and sidewalk. People were openly fucking in the alleys or against the parked cars. Drunks staggered toward Aya and he easily sidestepped around them even if he felt sore as all hell. Aya spotted a group of yakuza in black suits strolling on the other side of street and snapped his eyes back before they noticed he had ever looked. The sun hadn’t even set yet and crime was already starting for the night.

He would end this. He would never walk down these streets again, not by his own choice. Aya had decided that after Yohji screamed at him. He couldn’t stand this shame that he’d been left with after their fight. Yohji hadn’t pitied him, he abhorred him. Aya would stop this ‘job’ and try to come clean, to come out of the underworld and actually be clean for once. He would do it, and maybe then he could be genuinely happy.

Just like before, right? Before he had ever joined Weiss, before he had taken his first life. Before he had become tainted. Would it even be possible to change? Aya was comfortable in Weiss, and though he would never tell them, he could not describe how much joy he had felt when they had all stayed together when Kritiker silently fired them. He wouldn’t be able to bare it if the other looked down on him just like Yohji had. Aya loved Ken’s honesty and the energy he brought with him. He loved Omi for always being there to provide happiness and a little bit of sanity for them all. And Aya would kill them if they ever found out.

Ken, Omi, and Yohji were like his surrogate family, but Aya would be damned if anyone would ever get a whisper to slip past his lips. That would ruin everything. If they got close, he’d have to kill them before he had to watch them die. Aya could be his own bad luck before it even came around to destroy his life again. He had already learned that anything he loved would be destroyed, because he was so weak and pitiful.

Too caught up in his own thoughts, Aya didn’t see the hand that snatched his upper arm was painfully. Someone threw him against the side of the wall before Aya could even react, making him see stars in his already tender and injured state. Aya looked up as the crowd moved around past him without any concern over the violence. The golden rule of this area was to mind your own business, and nothing was about to change. Aya had to take care of this himself so he could show Yohji once and for all that he wasn’t some pathetic loser. He wasn’t really like this!

Aya looked up at the beast holding onto him as the late sunlight created a hazy glow around them. At least Aya had been wearing a sweater, because the long sleeves kept the filthy hand from actually connecting to the giant. The man was huge though not in an obese way. He towered over most people, which only made him able to loom over Aya. Muscles rippled in the thick and beefy neck and amazingly enough for his over-muscled girth, the man wore a black three-piece suit with a smart white tie tucked into the vest.

"Hey, hey, a little early today. Are you that eager for me, bitch?" the man sneered, viciously shoving a knee between Aya’s leg. The muscled thigh lifted up cruelly, almost taking Aya off of his feet as he spread his hands against the wall for balance. Aya put up a faint struggle before the man grabbed his balls and squeezed them through the jeans, hard enough to make tears form. Aya’s eyes clenched closed, not about to show any weakness in front of this hired help. He was above this all.

"I . . . I want talk to Mr. Stevens," Aya demanded, taking a moment to put the ice into his voice. They both may work for the same man, but they had very different jobs and levels of respect. This man was nothing more then a door guard and yet he would be allowed to fuck Aya retarded with only a mild reprimand as punishment. It was even more frustrating because this was the type of man Aya had killed before. He could have easily thrown this bouncer off of him if he still had any of the muscle and weight from those days of assassination left.

But, in this life, he had lost most of his frame along with any self-confidence that he could have used to throw the man off. It was pathetic, and that was why Yohji had been able to spit on Aya’s pride. He’d never been so humiliated before by anything the older man could say, and he wasn’t about to let this shame sit without dealing with it. He couldn’t live like this any longer.

"You didn’t come to see me, baby?" the guard slurred, pressing his tongue into the hollow of Aya’s ear. His breath was hot on the salvia in Aya’s ear. He could have screamed in revulsion, chills running up and down his spine. This was beyond Aya’s ability to cope with. He couldn’t take this silently, no matter how many times they ‘reprimanded’ him. He didn’t care if he got beaten up again because it was more than worth it, better than staying silent.

"Get the fuck off of me, you goddamn pig!" Aya snarled. He couldn’t physically push the man off of him without fear of being drawn into something worse by him or being severally punished for attacking the employees. That didn’t mean his mouth didn’t work and Aya considered himself to be proficient when it came to throwing around insults.

"You little shit! What’re ‘ya getting so uptight about?" the man snarled, pushing away Aya from him when the second guard took several steps over in their direction. Aya could tell that the similar looking thug was straight from a mile away and didn’t want to put up with this sort of activity. The slightly smaller hired muscle trying to intimidate Aya grudgingly released him and backed away under the older employee’s gaze.

Aya knew better than to say ‘thank you.’ He just kept his eyes downcast and tried to blend in with the wall. This unfamiliar door guard had only saved him to spare himself the pain of watching one man fondle another. The other man backed off than when it seemed like Aya was no longer in danger of being hassled to return to his post on the opposite side of the entryway.

"I’ll fucking smack you up good if I ever get my hands on you," the man threatened feebly as he moved back to stand by the main doors. His near twin stood on the right without making eye contact with obvious amusement across his face. He could tell that the man had done little to frighten Aya. In fact, it only made him want to bring his katana to work one of these days more and more. Except, Aya was going to make sure that there were no more of ‘these days’ after tonight. He was sick to death of it.

Aya smoothed out his clothes as he pulled away from the wall he’d been so rudely shoved against. He didn’t even look at anyone else as he marched through the doors, knowing that he would probably break down into tears with the shame. Yohji might have been able to guess at Aya’s other job, but he couldn’t even imagine the humiliation that came with it. Still, Aya schooled his face back into an emotionless mask beyond a superior smirk at the bastard who’d attacked him.

They were both only hired guards. They didn’t mean a thing to him. He was the real attraction in this place, not some brutes that stood outside the doors all day long. They were there to guard him and any other of the younger people that might be checking in for work. This area of town was known for being rough and these men were supposed to be protecting him, not harassing him! Aya stalked through the automatic sliding glass doors, wishing that they were manual so he could have slammed the door.

It looked like any office building on the first floor with a Spartan and severely modern look. The floor was smooth white marble and unfinished steel support beams stuck out rudely in the black walls. This place could be taken for any other corporation’s business tower at first glance, but Aya knew painfully well that this was the only clean, normal looking room in the whole building. There was only a receptionist sitting at the far end by the elevators, waiting in a cold silence for Aya to come closer.

He breezed past the front desk and Aya nodded to the familiar prissy receptionist. Her older features working into what could have been a smile or a glare with her wrinkles as he passed, but Aya didn’t know. He had never even talked to the woman. Aya had business to attend to and he didn’t want to get friendly with people, certainly not from this place. Aya hit the button for the elevator and thankfully didn’t have to wait as the door slid open.

Aya hit the button for the top floor and leaned back against the wall for the long ride. Thankfully the elevator had no music, only the hum of machinery above Aya’s head as he rose up into his own personal hell. He’d been a fool to even start working here, blind and oblivious to what had turned out to be the worst couple of months in his life. Well, he’d quit this all soon enough so he’d be able to punch Yohji in the face without feeling like the hypocritical failure the blonde accused him of being.

The elevator slowed and Aya heard a soft chime before the doors opened. He stepped out into the main hallway of the top floor that was a straight shot to the other end of the building. All of it was in a bright china red, the color so intense that it hurt Aya’s eyes to even walk through the place. Doors lined the two walls of the red-carpeted and red-painted hall, looking vaguely like a hotel. Some were open and some were shut, but either way the screaming, panting, and moaning coming from inside the rooms drowned out the sound of Aya’s footsteps.

Aya let the mask fall into place to distance himself as far away as possible from the building’s activities. He was not familiar and close to these things. No matter what he heard, Aya had to swallow his disgust and move forward. Bizarre music melded into the din, with classical and rap and heavy metal and pop, all songs screaming with anger coming from different rooms. Dozens of strangers were rolling about in the hallway, pressing up against walls, or running away with a pursuer close on their sobbing heels. Clothes were flying about as well as condoms, pills, needles, cigarettes, and other things, like handcuffs and contraptions made of leather that Aya would rather not identify. He didn’t want to remember exactly why he knew what they were used for.

Aya walked past an open door with a woman pinned up on the bed inside with her feet kicking uselessly. There was a moan of pleasure as a half-dressed man grinded into her, viciously biting her neck. Aya didn’t even look back as she began to scream in real pain. This hallway was too familiar for himself as he walked down it, trying to stay afloat in the river of sex that ran through it. He didn’t want to remember this, those times when he had sex but it hadn’t had a thing to do with love or trust.

He was so deep in thought that Aya shouldered an older man as he tried to pace down the hall without being noticed. Aya staggered back as the man’s orgasm died down and a choking noise was heard. He glanced down to see a young man on his knees and struggling to swallow the man’s ejaculation in his mouth. Aya only got a rough shove, which was surprisingly light for accidentally interrupting them. He marched forward only to get another shove from a completely different patron that was leaving in a flurry, obviously embarrassed yet still aroused with an erection hanging out of his pants.

Aya continued walking, managing to just avoid groping hands as a few sought to have him join in with them. By the time he had reached the relatively calm opposite end of the hall, he had to redo the fly on his jeans and pull his sweater down again. There were more guards standing in front of the door before Aya. Half of them were familiar, leering and grinning as they recognized Aya. These men knew damn well what Aya was probably dropping by for, or at least that was what they thought. It hurt more to be looked down upon by these bastards than it should.

There had been dozens of times that he had been called in because the boss was horny. It was nothing new. This was just another ‘job.’ Aya preferred to think in mission means, like this was simply something that had to be done. It kept him removed, a bit. Just enough to keep him adequately sane. He’d stop it all tonight, no more humiliation or lying. He was so tired of it all.

One man in a rumpled navy-blue suit opened the door to the main office, managing a quick pinch as Aya tried to breeze past. Aya swirled around on the man, still furious from being attacked by Yohji, the dick outside, and now this bastard. The other guards chuckled at this, knowing that even though they hassled Aya, he had a temper and sharp tongue that could do enough damage on its own.

"Just call me, baby," the man smiled, trying to look seductive. Aya could have vomited into that ugly, ugly muscular face. He flipped the arrogant bastard off as his friends burst into out right laughter. Aya stalked away, both ashamed and frustrated that those meat-heads were allowed to touch him without payment or punishment. If he had tried anything worse than the middle finger, Aya would have been the one who got a broken bone.

Inside the main ‘office’ was a much more subdued scene, but it still matched the hallway to some degree. Dim lights made pools of a hazy purple and red here, a blue and bright white over there. The room was huge, vast, and dark, just like the warehouses Aya had used to stake-out during mission days. He knew the place only had one door which Aya’s back faced now. There weren’t any windows to escape from either and even though Aya couldn’t see the walls in the darkness, he felt caged in.

Soft giggles and moans strayed through the air, much more impassioned and expressionistic than anything back in that hallway. Couples and groups were in the middle of the act, naked flesh moving on pillows or mattress laid out on the floor. There were no walls or curtains between any of them, just an arm length’s of a dead man’s land. Aya hated this worst of all, much more uncomfortable hearing people actually enjoy themselves than when it was his turn.

"I didn’t call you," a husky voice snapped to his side. Aya didn’t jump, but calmly looked over to his left at his employer. The man stood at least another foot taller than Aya and was well-muscled, but not to the over defined amount like the heaps of flesh guarding the place. He had short black hair that had been combed back neatly with plain black eyes to match. His employer wore a dark maroon suit with a white undershirt and silk vest. A gaudy silver tie adorned his chest, pinned there with painstaking neatness by a gold clip that looked like the gold cufflinks at the man’s wrists. Even his shoes were also meticulously shined until they reflected the dim light of the room in their black leather depths.

He looked like the average aspiring Japanese businessman, excluding his height. There was nothing extraordinary in his visage or profile. Aya had killed his type before, but this was the first man he dared not touch. This man was Mr. Stevens, and he had made Aya’s life pure misery without even trying hard. Aya had to be very careful now, or this whole visit would be worth nothing.

"I know. I have to speak with you," Aya returned coldly, gripping his hands into fists and glaring forward. He refused to look at Mr. Stevens, to give him that much attention. The monster didn’t even deserve the slightest bit of Aya’s focus, but the damage was already done. Aya didn’t want to look into the man’s eyes because he was scared.

"What? What do you want to talk about?" Mr. Stevens snapped irritably, his eyes flashing to a couple as their moans and soft wet sounds become something more urgent and louder. Aya didn’t look over as he heard the rustling of clothing as the man dug around in his suit. There was a click from a lighter and a cigarette was lit in the darkness to Aya’s side. There was a slight pause, and then the man blew the smoke in to Aya’s face.

Aya hated him.

"I’m quitting," he stated, crossing his arms and finally turning to face the man. Aya glared as hard as he could, like his life depended on it. Aya wanted this man to know that he hated him, and one day he’d kill him, too. Mr. Stevens would get what he deserved for acting so goddamn cocky as the bastard took another puff of smoke languidly without the slightest bit of surprise.

"What, done already?" He drawled back, as if Aya was quitting a respectable job. There was silence as though Mr. Stevens expected Aya to provide an excuse immediately. He didn’t need to give reasons to this asshole.

"It’s all I agreed to. I’m done. I don’t need this anymore," Aya bolstered, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. He was quitting. No come back calls, no pickups at street corners, and no contract that was legally binding anymore. He had worked several months, and that was all anyone could hold him to. He wasn’t stupid enough to get caught up in paperwork the same way twice.

"You know if I let you go, there are going to be very angry people all over the country. Some of them might try to get you to work for them instead," the man began, sounding like he was talking about some report on the weather. Aya knew damn well that there were politicians and superstars that could bring the media down on his head, but it would be easier to deal with that public shame than continue this.

"Fuck them. I’m quitting. They can’t have me," Aya snarled, ready to be done with all of this chitchat. He wasn’t some commodity to be passed around as people saw fit. He wasn’t going to quit and find a better offer! He was going to run as far away from this part of his life as he could manage. No one would ever have to know what he had been through.

"If you stay with me, Red, there’s protection," the man started again, dropping the half-finished cigarette on the floor and rubbing it out with his heel. Aya didn’t say anything to that, the dubious offer of protection already ruined by the employees at the front door. There was no way Aya would ever be happy with this sort of arrangement.

"I never treated you badly, did I?" Mr. Steven’s he asked in a different voice, more demanding this time. Suddenly he turned and had Aya’s wrists in his hands with the last bit of smoke exhaled against the skin of his ear. Aya was pushed up against the wall for the second time today, but this was more frightening than the first one could ever be.

"We both know the answer. Let. Me. Go," Aya ordered with deadly calmness. He had bruises in places that would never heal from this man. If he stayed with this man, doing the same thing over and over, he’d die. Aya knew it. His heart already hurt so much and he hadn’t even been doing this for a year yet. Some of the people in this building had been doing this for ten years.

"Well, Red, guess I have not choice. I’ll let you go. That is, if you can live through your last night here without the hospital," Mr. Steven’s hissed into Aya’s ear as he bit down on the sensitive curve of flesh. Aya hissed and tried to jerk away, only to have the teeth dig in deeper. He couldn’t even try to escape or he was going to get his ear torn off his head.

"Fuck you. I don’t need a hospital. Get it over with," Aya growled, even though his hands were starting to shake. He needed some space, some distance between them. He already felt scared, frightened despite his resolve, and felt ashamed for that as well. Aya didn’t even dare squirm as Mr. Steven pressed him back even further against the wall.

"I always liked that ‘get to the point’ attitude, Red. Everyone’s going to miss you. Why don’t you say goodbye to some of your fellow employees?" The man suggested, releasing Aya’s ear from his mouth. He gathered up both of Aya’s wrists into one hand even though Aya tried to yank at least one back. He just wasn’t strong enough to break the hold, no matter how strongly Aya wanted to kill this man.

A We’ll give you a going away party you’ll never forget," he promised, already reaching with his free hand to the cell phone in his pocket. Aya felt his stomach try to run away from his body as he suddenly went cold.

* * *

"Ken-kun, have you seen Yohji-kun?" Omi asked from the kitchen as Ken came in the back door. The whole place smelled like fish right now, which wasn’t helping Ken at all. He was starving from a long day at the park and his stomach grumbled loudly. Thank God that Omi had decided to cook tonight, because Ken didn’t think he had the strength to even get take-out tonight.

"Nope. His car’s gone and you know Aya," Ken remarked sarcastically as he picked up a post-it note that Omi had missed on the kitchen table. Sure enough, ‘Out’ was written in Aya’s familiar and angry handwriting. He was curt even in a note, able to make Ken so pissed off that he crumpled up the paper imagining it was Aya’s face. He couldn’t believe the bastard these days, skipping work and leaving for days on end without saying a word. He hadn’t seen Aya in weeks and as far as Ken was concerned, good riddance. He was sick and tired of trying to be Popsicle’s friend when all he got in return was some sharp comment about being lazy.

Ken fell into one of the chairs at the table, his shirt clinging to his back from sweat, mud, and grass flaking off of his knees. Another community match between some of the neighborhood teams. It was always a lot of fun, with kids and parents jovially laughing and conversing with everyone about what their child had done. It had been a perfect afternoon with the game ending in a tie. Ken couldn’t have been happier with the outcome because everyone had played well, and there weren’t any losers so none of the kids had gone home crying.

"You’re spreading dirt everywhere!" Omi cried, turning around from the stove with an apron on over his usual shirt and shorts. His hair was held back in a bandanna and by the smear of flour on the side of Omi’s cheek; Ken could guess that the kid had been working on dinner for a long time. Aya would probably have a fit when he saw the messy kitchen Omi had created, but Ken didn’t care as long as food came out of it.

"Whaddya mean?" Ken asked innocently, crossing his feet on top of each other.

On top of the table.

Omi said a few choice words that never failed to shock Ken speechless whenever he heard the boy say them. The first time he had ever heard Omi curse Ken swore he almost had heart failure. Such words could never come out of that smiling mouth, but at the same time it was fucking hilarious to hear Omi swear like a sailor as he swore to kill Ken. Omi huffed at the laughter and hit Ken’s bare shin with the handle of the wooden spoon.

"Ow, ow!" Ken yelped, jerking his feet of the table before Omi could get the chance to hit him again. The squirt was damn unlucky to start a fight when they were home alone, because it meant no one would come to rescue Omi even if he screamed. Ken was about to launch on the boy when the back door opened again as an unexpected haze of smoke drifted through the door.

"I’m hooooommeeee, ladies!" Yohji’s announcement flooded through the apartment. Ken blinked at the lack of a cigarette in the blonde’s mouth as he grinned over the curve of his sunglasses. Ken could smell the whiskey from the table, as well as something burning. Just where the hell was the smoke coming from? Omi also noticed the smoke as well, freezing in mid-tirade to sniff the air.

A NO!" Omi turned away from greeting Yohji to lunge at the stove. The boy jerked the lid off of the pan and immediately a big billow of black smoke came up. Yohji just stood in the doorway to let the room air out before the fire-alarms went off as Omi tried to save the dish with a spatula. Eventually, even Omi realized it was a lost cause and turned on the fan above the stove in defeat.

"I’m sorry! I burned it! I really messed it up! I thought we all could have a dinner together but I . . . burned the fish!" Omi ended obviously, something black and shriveled that Ken would never call a fish ‘popping’ in the pan. Ken looked over at Yohji who had the same helpless and confused expression as him. What were they supposed to say when Omi was this upset over a burned meal?

Yohji and Ken laughed.

"Oh, kid, it’s okay. Let’s get take-out or something for once!" Yohji choked out before Ken could manage to stop laughing. "Okay, Okay?" Yohji asked Omi again as the boy didn’t cheer up immediately. In fact, Omi’s easily readable face fell even further. The boy managed to look even more depressed than before, and Ken hadn’t thought it was possible.

"But what if Aya-kun comes home?" Omi asked, biting the bottom of his lip. "I wanted us to all eat together!" Ken was suddenly struck by how much Omi was acting like the kid who sensed his parents were divorcing and was trying to patch things up before they completely fell apart. They had been fighting more lately; since Aya stopped showing his face often enough to even assure them he was still alive. This eating together thing was more then being hungry; it was his attempt to stop the constant fighting they were all falling into.

"It’s all right. Let’s just grab some take out and some movies. We’ll hang until Aya shows up," Yohji suggested, always ready with a plan. Ken could appreciate the effort Yohji was making, because he knew the blonde would much rather be spending his free time out on the town with a hot date than waiting for Aya to show up. With there luck, Aya had probably left the house for the next couple of days. Omi was in for a long wait.

"Really? That sounds great! But, Ken-kun, you better change first," Omi suggested, his mood switching so quickly it was as though a cloud that had cut in front of the sun had finally passed. Ken looked up from the kitchen table in mild shock, wondering what the boy could possibly be talking about.

A I can smell you from over here," Omi complained, pinching his nose even though the smell of burnt fish was by far worse than Ken’s sweat. Yohji only laughed at that, not even trying to defend Ken but just going along with Omi. The brat had been close to tears only a few seconds ago, and now he was already making fun of him again.

"You damn kid!" Ken mocked-roared, getting up and lumbering over to Omi with a growl and his arms held up high, just like some monstrous bear. "You’ll pay for that!!" Ken began to chase Omi around the house as the boy dashed out of the kitchen while Yohji was left behind with a smile.

* * *

Aya tried to kick out, tried to punch out, claw, tear, move, move away! He couldn’t squirm enough to dislodge those rough hands trying to hold him down. Muscles twisted and bones ground together as his arm was thrown back at an impossible angle from an attacker that had snuck up behind. Aya didn’t even have time to get his hand free as another grabbed a fist of his sweater so tightly that the neck choked him. He fell down, gasping for breath, as fist landed in the small of his back.

He went down in a pile with several other men, grunting painfully as everyone scrabbled to hold him down. Aya wanted to panic, to run, to just lash out. Most of all, he wanted to die. Some of the men backed off just enough so they could avoid being kicked as well when a show landed against Aya’s ribs. He choked and curled up defensively to protect his stomach, knowing it was better to take it than try to fight further at this point. A punch in the back of Aya’s shoulders made him wince and hiss despite his desire to not make a single sound.

He was finally pinned down on his stomach after two men put their knees over Aya’s arms to keep him from fighting. Once Mr. Stevens had gotten off that damn cell phone Aya had gotten as much notice as a fly before it was hit by a semi-truck before employees were pouring in the room just for him. Aya bitterly reminded himself that all he had to do was survive the night without a hospital, no matter what they did to him. The rules had been vague, and Aya was taking advantage of it without shame. He didn’t have to lie down and let this happen! He struggled uselessly, kicking with his legs as they tried to surround him and screaming in frustration when his ankles were captured by a grip stronger than any still.

Aya wanted to cry. He couldn’t fight any more, not against so many people. How long had he been fighting? Hours, or it could have been only minutes, maybe even seconds? However much time it was, Aya had gone down far too soon. He was a failure, a pathetic loser, but even now he didn’t want to give up. It was hopeless now as a fist slammed into the side of his face hard enough to split skin. More blows followed, but Aya must have blacked out between punches because he couldn’t clearly remember how many times he was hit.

He felt them kick his sides, and for some reason all he could think about was the argument with Yohji. All it took was Yohji calling him a whore and now he was going to quit. He wasn’t going to let Yohji get away with slurring him. Fuck Yohji. He was going to kill him. Once he lived through this. That was all he had to do to gain the self-respect needed to tell Yohji to go to hell.

Aya suddenly felt so weary of it all. He was tired. He wanted a place warm to crawl into and never come out from again. Aya wanted a safe place of his own to hide away in, a sense of security that he hadn’t felt since sixteen, when his parents had been alive. Aya just wanted to be some place warm instead of this cold, dirty floor underneath him as the men didn’t move an inch. Aya was starting to bleed as a warm liquid blinded him in one eye from an open cut on his face.

Warm.

Aya wanted to find someplace warm to hide in.

"Don’t faint on us now, baby!" Someone cried distantly.

* * *

"No," Yohji said very firmly with his arms crossed over his chest with a stern look on his face. There was no way they could get Yohji to do this, no matter what they tried. He was deadest against it as Ken and Omi turned to him with matching wide and wet eyes. Yohji felt like he was looking at two kids instead of former assassins when they both, in unison at the same, exact, annoying fucking instant, whined out"

"Pleeeeeeaaaaaaaseeeeeeeee?"

He hated them so fucking much.

"Come on, Yohji, you’ll like it! There’s a sex scene," Ken tried to persuade, shaking the videotape in front of Yohji’s face like a doggie treat. Yohji only tried harder to glare like Aya did, hoping he was accomplishing the same silent death threat that the redhead could. Even if he was still angry at the prick, he had to admit Aya could use that gaze a little too effectively.

"I’d rather make my own sex scene instead of watching it, thank you. Pick something else. You both have seen it, so get something new," Yohji snapped, knowing very well that it was Omi’s favorite movie. He wasn’t very particular about what they watched, as long as it wasn’t complete trash. Besides, Yohji wasn’t about to spend the evening trying to read subtitles. How could Omi and Ken possibly watch this shit?

"You’re no fun," Omi mumbled, putting ‘Titanic’ back on the shelves in the rental shop. Yohji inhaled the stale, air-conditioned oxygen of the local Blockbuster and shrugged. They had take-out sitting on the floor of the Koneko’s delivery truck since it had been the only vehicle that could fit all three of them comfortably. Along the way to the restaurant to pick up the food, Ken had actually come with a good idea to rent some movies to entertain themselves until Aya came back.

Except now, Yohji was ready to start smoking regularly again as Ken and Omi reached for another teen flick. Two male adults, regardless of how young Omi looked, professional assassins who could disembowel or poison a target in under a minute, were trying to pressure Yohji into watching a chick-flick now. At least he was getting the hang of the ‘Fujimiya Glare of Death,’ because Ken only had to take one look at Yohji’s face to put the empty cover on the shelves and look for a different movie.

Yohji looked down at the movies, his eyes catching on some zombie film. He suddenly pictured himself rising up from the dead, ravaging the village, but instead of ‘brains’ it was ‘cigarettes and Jack Daniels and a hotel room.’ Yohji shook his head, narrowing his eyes at Omi and Ken’s backs as they moved along the new releases. It had to be those idiots’ fault that he was thinking crazy thoughts like this. At least Aya wasn’t there to say anything smart.

Just what the hell had that been in Aya’s bedroom? Yohji wasn’t sure what to make of it. He had to find out the woman’s name, because he couldn’t live without knowing what to call the bitch. He couldn’t believe that she was hurting Aya and that the redhead was too damn proud to even say a thing. The little prick had been hiding it from them, for crying out loud! Obviously something was wrong if Aya felt like he needed to cover it up. Yohji was going to find out what the hell was going on the next time he saw that familiar and annoying redhead.

"Hello? Yohji? Can you hear me?" Ken questioned, accompanying it with a poke to the ribs. Yohji blinked down at Ken’s liquid brown eyes, reminded of a pet he had owned years ago. He still missed that dog… And why the hell was he even remembering that shit now? Yohji pressed his thumb against his temple, hoping to ease a bit of the pressure starting to build up. Where should they order from, what movie should they watch, where the fuck was Aya?

"You guys are definitely driving me over the edge," Yohji muttered to Ken’s back as the brunette set off as Omi spotted a new Disney musical.

* * *

His hands were stretched above his head by one man with another stranger landing heavily on his knees and grabbing his hips. Aya felt dizzy, disgusted, and realized that he could not have been knocked out for more then a few seconds. There was a grunt and another man joined the dog pile, throwing his weight across Aya’s chest. Unable to breathe or find any sort of room to move away, Aya began to thrash, trying to jerk his wrists away. The man holding them let his grip go with Aya’s movements for a second, and then slammed them back onto the ground with bruising force and tightened the grip.

Aya heard his breathing hitch as he begun to be aware of the hopelessness of being able to get away. He was struck by the closeness of the men’s bodies with their grunts and restrictive holds everywhere on his body. Cold metal slipped around his wrists and tightened painfully with a clicking lock. A foot slammed down on the chain between the cuffs, effectively restrained. Now that his hands were captured, the other two men backed off with leers that left Aya feeling cold. These men looked like animals that had sensed their prey had been brought down.

Aya became aware of a panicked wheezing, as if someone was trying to hold himself together when his heart was about to explode. Aya realized he was making the noise, his chest aching in dread. He knew what was going to happen and jerked the handcuffs futilely as his joints were wretched back because his wrists refused to slip out of their metal bonds. Aya refused to give into the hopelessness and doubt building up inside. He just had to survive through it. Still, he didn’t want it and clenched his eyes close in disgust.

Another man leaned in, the leering grin on his face unmistakable as he panted in anticipation with soft, wet sounds whistling in his throat. Aya’s arm muscles started trembling as they began to trash with more fury and fear as this thing came at him. The man put one beefy hand into Aya’s shirt and twisted, rending it from his body in burning tears of fabric. Aya grunted, the cold of the floor hitting his back. The stranger ripped the sleeves and last scraps of his sweater and tried to cling to Aya’s body, revealing his torso to the gathered audience.

He had attracted a crowd of anticipating spectators more than ready to leap in the fray. There was no escape, no hope for anyone to rescue him. Aya had gone in knowing this was going to happen, so why the fuck did he feel like crying?! Aya refused to open his eyes to see what these strangers were going to do, hold it in so no one would get the satisfaction of breaking him. The man’s hand struck out wrapped around Aya’s neck as the other went to the button fly on the pants. Aya choked for air, writhing as best he could with two heavy men sitting on his legs.

The employee’s free hand shoved past Aya’s jeans, his fingernails scraping Aya’s lower stomach as he gathered up the zipper and yanked. The fly was ripped off by the man’s force and other men working them down around his knees, restricting his legs even further. The man adjusted his weight and moved to allow the rest of the pants to be ripped down by his friends and gathered around one ankle as Aya tried to kick out. He began to struggle furiously against the handcuffs, not minding the way the skin began to chafe and tear or the hand squeezing hard around his neck. Aya began snarling, his teeth gnashing at the air as he tried to buck the man off as he moved down on Aya’s body.

The stranger released his hold on Aya’s neck and moved his hand down along Aya’s side to his hip before reaching out and squeezing Aya’s penis. It hurt with a bitter intensity, enough to cause Aya’s eyes to water with helpless tears from the pain this time, instead of fear. Aya cried out in shock and pain before he could gain control again and pinched his eyes closed. Aya tossed his head back, jerking plaintively at the handcuffs as the man standing on his hand growled.

"You little bitch!" Another foot slammed down on the last two fingers on Aya’s hand and there was a crunching noise before he felt the pain. Aya screamed at that, his whole arm spasming in shock as the heel of the man’s shoe dug in further. Was he trying to grind Aya’s bones into dust? Aya sobbed and cried out again, though this time it was in anger. They already had him down on the ground? What good did it do to beat him further?

Aya would never understand sadists, but he had also willingly agreed to this. He couldn’t back out now. He had to survive through this, no matter what they did. Aya couldn’t give a shit about what they did to his body. He had already become tainted from the first kill, and the first offer he ever accepted for this nighttime job. Aya had no right to think himself a victim. This was his fault in the first place for falling so low.

Amazing, really, what thoughts could come to Aya when he was screaming with pain.

"Oh, baby, we are going to miss you," the man breathed out, panting and licking his lips as Aya writhed below him. His skin was becoming damp with sweat, his knees trembling with fear as the other men backed off his legs. The crowd started to chuckle, faces wavering in his vision as the man rubbed his hands together with delight over being Aya’s first for the night. Aya bit his lip, refusing to let out another scream. It was only his body.

The man grabbed at Aya’s ankle and lifted it up over his shoulder, forcing Aya’s weight onto his upper back as his rear was lifted up from the ground. He began to kick and trash, pulling at his wrists even harder, blood finally flowing and making the cuffs slick. Someone moved in and pinned down Aya’s loose leg to stretch him out painfully as the man between his legs adjusted his shoulder under Aya’s thigh. The man settled down and pinched the sides of Aya’s face, forcing his jaws apart and making his teeth dig into the sides of his mouth. He put his fingers into Aya’s mouth, his skin rough and burning Aya’s tongue its stinging taste. The man felt the insides of Aya’s mouth as he grunted and tried to bite; only causing blood to run against his teeth.

The man removed his now damp fingers from Aya’s mouth and settled back onto his haunches. Two fingers caressed the sensitive skin around Aya’s hole, circling in close before both plunged in. Aya couldn’t help the cry. The skin strained and burned at the intrusion that split his hips apart from the inside. The fingers began to move around, twisting against sensitive and tender flesh, causing skin to split and bleed in an effort to fit the man’s fingers. Aya shook his head helplessly as a third was added, making Aya feel like he was going to burst in half from his bladder and out.

Intensive pain flared in his bowel and his breath left him as one of the fingers brutally jammed against the sides of his prostrate. Aya’s second cry was torn from him, starting out as a scream before he tried to make it into a grunt. Then, Aya screams turned higher-pitched as he tried to tense up refuse the feelings of his body. The fingers found a rhythm inside him, slowly and painfully overfilling him. Another hand came up and began to rub against his balls before grasping the shaft in one hand, causing Aya to jerk and spasm. His head tossed back and forth helplessly, airy grunts being ripped from him as his body began to move with the force of the men on top of him, up and down, in a wavelike motion.

He felt a shock of pleasure rush through him, a flush of pain from his groin, sending his body into tremors. It burned and weighed him down, filling up his entire being. His ankles trembled, one foot twitching in the air, the other leg’s knee shaking underneath the man pinning it down. The shaking made him acutely aware of the feeling of his legs being stretched open, leaving him completely vulnerable, making Aya start to jerk to try and close his thighs. The little shocks continued, leaving his hips convulsing, completely emptied and suspended.

The hand moved away from his groin, leaving Aya alone to the fingers stabbing into him. An erection had formed and bounced between his thighs, as if embarrassed it had ever come to life. He jutted forward onto empty air. He felt completely empty as his body began to spasm, suspended without release, full beyond belief, ready to burst. Another thrust from the fingers and at the exact same time a hand closed violently around Aya’s cock, making him scream as an orgasm was forced out of him. Aya fell back bonelessly, sweat covering his body as his shuddered, the hands finally moving away from of Aya’s groin and insides. Aya felt horribly open, his legs shuddering but the muscles reacting like water with no strength to his command that he still tried to kick out.

It was then, when he was completely open and half-dead to the world with exhaustion that the man replaced his fingers with his own erection. Aya screamed out, lacking the strength to move away as the man began to thrust into him, his own cock splitting Aya apart worse than the fingers ever could. The man pounding into Aya with all the force he could muster with the sound of his balls slapping against skin echoing into Aya’s ears. He was shaking, unable to fight when his prostrate was again stimulated.

Aya moaned, weak, his body unable to cope with a second arousal so soon after a forced orgasm. The man whose foot stood on Aya’s handcuffs lifted up and Aya could only move his bleeding hands closer to his head, pulling weakly on his hair in an attempt to take awareness way from the pain of been pounded into, the intense pleasure of that one spot being caressed and put it toward a small painful tug on his scalp. The man’s foot had left, and now the man leaned over Aya, his mouth covering Aya’s lips, enclosing them in a wet, hot mouth. The man grunted against Aya’s mouth as Aya’s head lolled to the beat of his rapist’s arousal.

The upside down face snorted hot breath against the bottom of his chin as he sucked in more air through his nostrils. A hand pinched the sides of his mouth again, forcing his jaw open to the man’s tongue. He began to explore the walls that had little cuts and divots had already been chewed by Aya. Aya sucked in air through the man’s throat instinctively, gagging at the unfamiliar feel of the man’s breath. He choked, stuck between the man pounding into him and the one still trying to coax a second orgasm from his trembling groin and this shadow that covered his face.

He began to gasp for air, clenching the muscles of his body around the shaft still firmly buried in him. He felt the splitting sensation again, his whole body pulled in too many directions when suddenly his world exploded in a haze of white spots and an unbelievably burning hot sensation filling him from somewhere behind his groin. A body collapsed on top of him, dropping his numb leg off of his shoulder. The hand at his groin was trapped against his balls, underneath the weight of the man. It began to scrape and pinch, causing Aya to moan and sob, quivering in attempts to throw them off. The man trying to rape his mouth moved off. There were a few words exchanged and Aya found his limp body being dragged up until his knees splayed out on either side of him, his handcuffed hands flopping against his reddening groin. A warm, sticky gel-like substance oozed out of Aya’s ass, dripping down the back of his thigh. Aya moaned, trying to move away from the sensation of blood and semen oozing out of him, but was unable to even clasp his thighs together and could only be held up by a grip on his hair.

Again, a hand clenched his mouth open, but instead of a mouth, the warm, soft tip of an erection gently slid in, like an invited neighbor. The hand left his mouth and clenched into his hair, two fists on either side of his head. The penis moved into his mouth, slowly, over his tongue and against the back of his throat, causing Aya to start to vomit unwillingly, his abdomen wrenching as his stomach started to try and expel itself. Someone punched him in the upper back, causing Aya to open his mouth to grunt as he fell forward against the man’s groin. Immediately he began thrusting wildly into Aya’s mouth, bruising the back of his throat and making him want to be intensely sick.

Aya felt the white stars start to build up again. Something behind his eyes ruptured, holding him still for a moment, completely rigid. He then began to truly slump against the force of the penis still driving into his mouth. The hand adjusted its grip, still holding his barely conscious body up in order to gain release. The man thundered into Aya’s mouth, hitting the back of his throat and throwing him backward as he lost consciousness.

The last thing he could think of was that he hated Yohji.

* * *

"Aya-kun’s not home yet?" Omi asked curiously as he turned to Yohji with big blue puppy-dog eyes. Again. It must have been the hundredth time Omi had asked him in the past minute! Yohji glanced down at his watch, the hands reading one o’clock. He should be getting a big fat pat on the back soon for being so patient with Omi. The boy could worry better than any mother, not even paying the slightest attention to the movie flashing across the screen.

Ken was practically passed out next to Omi the couch with his head thrown back and his mouth completely open. At least the big idiot wasn’t snoring, yet. Yohji had chosen to sit in Aya’s usual seat in the single large comfy chair next to the couch; at least it had been Aya’s when the redhead actually chose to be in the same room with them all. Omi was sitting right next to Ken, in the middle of the couch with Yohji on the other side. He looked at Yohji with those big, bright eyes, all watery in the light of the television as he tried to get Yohji to lie to him and say: ‘Of course he is, Omi! He just stopped off to pick up ice-cream for us. Aya’s gonna be back in five minutes.’

"I dunno, kid. It’s not too late yet," Yohji told him honestly instead, knowing full well about Aya’s new nighttime schedule. The man probably wouldn’t be home until at least after three in the morning, when sane people were usually sleeping. Omi sighed and made a sour face at that, deciding to turn back to the end of the movie. Yohji couldn’t even remember what it was called. He couldn’t concentrate on it right now, thinking back to the red lines around Aya’s wrists. Just what the fuck was Aya doing these days?

"It’s been nice tonight, though," Omi said half to himself, realizing that Yohji wasn’t listening to the boy. He blinked and turned back to the kid apologetically for getting caught up in his thoughts. He just wished that Aya hadn’t run out of the place, and that he hadn’t let it happen. He should have stayed in there and demanded answers before Aya had a chance to flee. He probably shouldn’t expect to see Aya for a good couple of weeks. Smooth move, Kudoh.

"Actually, it has been," Yohji agreed with Omi, trying not to think about that selfish bastard. Just when had Aya ever warranted a second of Yohji’s precious time to worry over that reclusive prick?! Yohji should just continue to enjoy tonight and be thankful that Aya wasn’t there to ruin it with his icy and oppressive presence. He couldn’t remember the last time they had all hung out together, minus one member. It didn’t really make a difference because Aya was so anti-social the conversation wasn’t any different than if the redhead had been there.

Dinner had been nice with Ken accounting about the number of times one kid kept falling down in the soccer game. Yohji had almost blown beer out of his nose with laughter over that one. Omi also talked about what had been happening lately at his high school that Yohji had been completely unaware of. Being an assassin had apparently jaded the kid to the vicious world of rumors and gossip, but some of the stories were painfully vicious. Yohji didn’t find it too hard to regress to high school, though the memory of that one night with Saito-sensei in the classroom and the perfect grade he had for the rest of the year came back. Ken had a hard time accepting the fact that Yohji had started his long history of sexual encounters at such a young age, so Yohji decided to refrain from his first middle-school experience.

After a dinner that had lasted three hours, they had popped in a movie after assuring Omi that Aya was going to be home any moment. Yohji felt sick with the lie, but he just couldn’t say the truth when Omi’s hopeful and innocent eyes turned on him. The first movie was an action flick they had eventually agreed on and they watched for the first few minutes in an uncomfortable silence. Omi wouldn’t look away from the door the whole time, as if he could force Aya to show up just by thinking about it.

Then, as more attention was given to the film as things started to speed up and they all began to laugh and chortle and began to yell out ‘Yeah, right!" at the screen as the action picked up. The serious action/adventure had degenerated into a comedy as Ken threw a piece of popcorn at the screen, screaming with laughter at some of the fight scenes. They had been through a hell of a lot worse than what the actors were moving through. Yohji could have killed the lot of them in five seconds if the film had been real.

As the movie went on, Ken eventually fell asleep from the bad acting and the loudest commentator was finally out for the night. Omi and Yohji tried to continue making fun of the film but the both of them soon fell in silence. Yohji knew that the kid wanted to see Aya come through the door just as much as he did. He didn’t care if he didn’t say anything more then his characteristic grunt and boarded himself up in his room again. Yohji just wanted to see Aya and get ride of the worry-like feeling of anticipation.

For some reason, Yohji needed to see Aya come home.

* * *

Aya opened one eye that didn’t widen all the way. The other was completely swollen shut, refusing to listen to his brain telling it to open. Aya’s one functioning eye didn’t even focus well in the fuzzy darkness. Everything was a little bit hazy and blurred red. Aya lacked the strength to even lift his head, just let his eyes wander until he made out a pair of unfamiliar black shoes. Aya didn’t recognize the cold floor he was laying on, so hurt and tired that he couldn’t connect the reality of being alive to his current awareness.

He was sprawled in a pile of bodies all in various states of dress with some half-naked, others clothed, others not. It was a dog pile of exhausted, sexually drained bodies all reeking with drugs and alcohol and sweat and semen. And Aya was in the center of it, so numb and cold with the pain the he couldn’t even count how many others were lying with him. Aya felt something rear up in his stomach and he was helpless as he vomited onto the floor, unable to do more then roll his head away from the fetid liquid as it surged out of his mouth.

He breathed heavily for a few minutes, trying to concentrate on anything beyond the acidic taste in his mouth and the tang of blood that was mixing with it. Aya was too numb to really feel the hurt, beyond pain even though he was aware of every nerve being on fire. It was a strange sensation. His head felt like it was floating away from his body, and yet at the same time his skull kept it connected to his neck. It was painful and liberating at the same time, sending chills down his back that made his stomach clench.

Aya had to get out of here. His last night was over and he was still breathing at the end of it. He was still alive. He just had to get home and save his final words for Yohji. He’d get the bastard back good for calling him a whore. Aya laboriously lifted his body up from the ground, grunting in pain and effort, only managing to make it to his knees. He wasn’t aware of whimpering with the pain but he had to bite his split and bloody lip to keep from crying out. He couldn’t afford awake other people, not now. He wouldn’t live through one more blow.

Behind him in the aftermath of the orgy, someone grunted. The surge of absolute freezing terror made his bowels twist up painfully and he choked on his own panic. Using more effort than Aya could ever remember having to before; he began to crawl away from the center of the mass of bodies. There was no way Aya would be able to manage walking, not yet. However, he forced himself to crawl faster until his hand brushed a pair of discarded pants.

When Aya’s fingers touched against the fabric, he suddenly realized with a sick feeling that he was naked. Inexplicable panic made Aya’s arms break out into goose bumps at the thought of being naked, ever again, much less in a room of his rapists. Trying hard not to cry or sob out in terror, Aya stopped his painful crawl and gathered the pants up in his miserable broken hands. Some fingers obeyed, some fingers screamed out in electric bolts of pain that went all the way to his elbows.

Aya tried to be silent as he maneuvered into the unfamiliar slacks, but found it harder than he could have ever imagined. The fabric scratched his sensitive skin and Aya gasped at the pain of trying to move his legs, his groin and ass abruptly filling with fire and sparks of pain that spread to the soles of his feet. He nearly blacked out from trying but Aya finally managed to get the too-big pants to covering his legs and sag around his waist. He fisted up a bit of the pants, drawing them agonizingly tight around his tender and raw hips. The pain was small if it meant this meager amount of protection.

With an extreme amount of concentration, Aya surged to his feet and focused all of his pathetic strength into standing up. He almost fell to his knees but Aya managed to stand unsteadily on his own feet and began to stagger to the door. He wanted to go home and put on all the sweaters, pants, and belts that he owned, get under his bedcovers, and have someone tell him it was alright. He wanted to die, but he had to tell Yohji off first. That was the only thought sustaining Aya as he limped toward the elevator.

* * *

Yohji yawned and stretched before opening the refrigerator door. The dull white light coming from inside the cool shelves was the only one on in the whole house as Yohji shuffled around the condiments. Ken and Omi had long gone to sleep and Yohji up with a sense of unease when Aya failed to make an appearance. He just couldn’t get to sleep, knowing that the asshole was wandering out in the streets with that bitch. But instead of getting any answers, Yohji only had a midnight craving and a kitchen that was the victim of movie popcorn.

The refrigerator was a failure and Yohji closed the door in disappointment. Usually Aya made a grocery list, but lately he didn’t even grace the dining table for any meal. They were out of everything, but Yohji wasn’t about to set out and go shopping at three in the morning. He sighed heavily and moved a half-full bowl of popcorn across the counter to reveal the breadbox behind it. Yohji considered making toast, but then dismissed it. He was just too damn lazy to do all the work now.

Thud.

Yohji blinked. Did he hear something? It sounded like a footstep out by the back door. Yohji waited and heard nothing afterward but the constant and distant hum of cars from the street outside. He shrugged and stifled a yawn with his hand, figuring that the noise had only been a trick of his imagination. Being awake so late at night all alone made anyone a little bit paranoid. He should probably just go to bed.

Thud.

Okay, that was definitely for real. Something was out there for sure this time. The only question was if the noise had been made by a cat, or a vengeful one-night stand that was finally going vigilante on all past relationships? Yohji reached out and grabbed the butter knife before blinking down at the rounded edge. Who the hell thought up childproof knives? Fuck. Yohji looked at his bare wrist and then made a fist. He may not have a wire, but he had killed people up close and personal before. One loud burglar was not going to beat him at a fist fight.

Yohji moved deliberately, slowly to the backdoor of the kitchen. He could hear weak panting, or was it a long grunt? A shadow moved underneath the small space between the door and the floor. Someone was out there, lurking around in the darkness like some second-class punk who was trying to wake up half the neighborhood while breaking and entering. Yohji knew it was a person and lunged out the door, his fists up to face down the alley between the shop and the garage.

Nothing.

He hated one thing above all: looking good and not having anyone to see it. Yohji kicked at the ground in frustration, checking both ways just in case there might have really been something out here, even if it was a damn cat. He didn’t even hear the usual talk of pedestrians, not this late at night. It was time for Yohji to go to bed if he was starting to hallucinate people. Yohji turned back to door and… froze…

Aya was slumped by the side of the door with his back braced against the wall of the house. He was only wearing a pair of unfamiliar pants, wrapped above his hips by Aya’s hand holding up the waistband with his legs sprawled underneath his body like Aya had collapsed on the spot. Yohji connected that the shadow must have been Aya falling down. His chest was bare and his head was bowed down, his hair a blaze of red with the light from the kitchen hitting it. He couldn’t see Aya’s face underneath the familiar fall of bangs that moved ever so slightly with each painful gasp.

Yohji couldn’t tell how badly hurt Aya was in the darkness of the night, but he could feel that it was very serious when an intuitive fear curled up and settled into a cold hard lump at the bottom of his stomach. There was blood on the ground leading in from the street making a clear trail to where Aya was resting now. Aya slumped a little further, leaving a dark red smear on the wall behind him, bloody shoulders starting to shake badly. Yohji stared at it, sick in the bottom of his stomach and wondered just what the fuck had happened.

Yohji dropped to his knees beside the bloody and bruised figure before he even realized he was moving. Yohji gathered Aya up into his arms more on instinct alone for anyone hurt this bad. His ears were filled with the soft sound of Aya’s ragged breathing, wondering what the hell could have happened to Aya for him to look this fucked up. He felt broken in Yohji’s arms, bones shifting around when they shouldn’t, Aya’s flesh hot with swelling bruises.

"Aya, come on, Aya," Yohji stammered, putting a hand underneath a bloody chin to lift Aya’s face up. Yohji could tell Aya was holding his eyelashes tightly shut even though both eyes were already swelling badly, puffed up until the skin looked plastic and fake. Aya’s face was a mess of black and blue discoloration around large scrapes and small splits, most likely made by fists. Yohji couldn’t tell if Aya’s nose was broken, but dried blood from his nostrils mixed with what was coming from swollen and split lips. Yohji tried to tell himself that injuries always looked worse than they were after the blood was washed off. They just had to clean him up, right?

"Yo . . . Yoh . . ." Aya breathed, his eyes trembling open to small slits that barely even spread both sets of eyelashes apart. Yohji was surprised Aya even recognized him right now, staring down at the man in shock. Aya didn’t move; just let his eyes drift till they fell to Yohji’s face. There wasn’t any emotion there, any anger, any fear, no pain, just a dull resignation hanging in Aya’s eyes like something dead.

"Yohji . . . Ha . . . Have . . . you been . . . here, l-long?" Aya rasped out, struggling with his breath. Something must be wrong with Aya’s ribs and a quick glance down told Yohji that Aya had gotten some hard body blows as well. No woman could have beaten Aya this badly. Yohji had to rethink everything now, because it was clear that a man, or very likely several men by the extent of Aya’s wounds, had been the one who’d changed Aya into the stranger Yohji had met this morning.

"Don’t talk, don’t talk Aya," Yohji rushed out, horrified and scared absolutely shitless. Aya had taken bullets and near-fatal wounds before, but nothing like this. Aya looked like he had been mauled, blood glistening weakly in the moonlight even now. How could this have happened? Yohji should have stopped Aya from going out and demanded the answers this morning. How could he ask anything of Aya now when the redhead looked a step away from death?!

"I’ll call the hospital. 9-11, right?" Yohji rambled, rubbing Aya’s shoulders more for his own comfort than the redhead’s. Aya stiffened at the touch and flinched away, his breathing erratic. Yohji was impressed Aya could even stay sitting upright on his own and kept his hands up in case the redhead should fall. Why wouldn’t Aya ever just trust other people to take care of things? Did Aya honestly think Yohji couldn’t get help properly by himself?

"No . . . no. hospital," Aya snarled weakly. Yohji scoffed at that and started to straighten his knees out to go inside. One hand that was scraped badly and covered in blood reached up and buried itself in Yohji’s shirt, two fingers bending at a strange angle. His wrist was mangled with strips of flesh sting hanging from the bloody rends circling the limb. Aya hadn’t been beaten; he’d been tortured! Just what the hell was going on? Why didn’t Aya want him to get an ambulance? What was so wrong with a hospital when the redhead looked a hairsbreadth away from death?

"Aya, you’re a fucking mess. You have to go to the hospital now, this isn’t even a joke," Yohji ranted, realized he was screaming in Aya’s bruised face. There was a hint of fear in the barely opened eyes, violet regarding Yohji with disgust from underneath the curve of swelling skin. Even though Aya looked like he might choke on the next breath, Yohji could still feel the younger man’s anger as bloody lips opened painfully.

"Fu . . . Fucking bastard," Aya gasped out, cursing in the face of all odds. A Listen to me, no . . . no hospital. I did . . . I did this for you . . . Don’t ruin it . . . No hospital," Aya wheezed out before his eyes shuddered closed. He slumped forward and Yohji quickly extended his arms to catch the man. Aya was a limp weight, far too light and broken for Yohji to hold comfortably. He felt like he was only going to hurt Aya further just by looking at the poor thing.

"What? What?! What the hell do you mean?! Aya? Aya!" Yohji cried out after a stunned moment, trying to shake Aya into awareness. Yohji didn’t give a fuck if it was the wrong thing to do to an injured man. Aya didn’t rouse, didn’t tell Yohji to shut the fuck up, just slumped forward like a limp doll. Yohji didn’t even have to think after that, just gathered Aya’s legs and arms together and lifted him up.

"Ken! Omi!" Yohji was screaming for them before he even got in the door, struggling not to bump Aya’s bare toes as he moved in. The house was too damn dark and quiet, so Yohji screaming again for the two as he looked around for a place to put Aya. He wasn’t even sure if Aya could survive being carried up the stairs at this point. Yohji wasn’t sure of anything. He didn’t want to be alone to deal with this.

"Yohji, what the fuck are you yelling about?" Ken started as he stomped down the stairs with Omi not too far behind. They were both still wearing pajamas and similar panicked expressions on. It looked like Yohji had woken them both of bed with his screaming, and he couldn’t even give a fuck. They had to move quickly, especially since Aya didn’t want a hospital.

"Oh, Jesus Christ. What happened to him? Shit, call the hospital!" Ken roared as he recognized the bloody load in Yohji’s arms to not only be human, but their good friend as well. Yohji couldn’t say anything to Ken for a moment, only turning around to lay Aya down on the kitchen table as gently as possible. Omi hit the lights for the kitchen and Yohji bit his lip to keep from yelling out. Aya looked even worse under the harsh light that brought out the bruises forming on his skin.

"Oh, Aya-kun! Is he okay? What happened?" Omi cried out, asking questions that Yohji had no answers to. He should have said something earlier this morning before Aya had wound up bleeding and battered. Yohji finally turned away from the man to face Ken and Omi head on. He couldn’t panic right now. They had to take care of Aya first. Omi knew this was already off and running for the first aid kit still in the mission room.

Ken reached for the phone and already had two numbers pressed before Yohji realized that the idiot must be calling 9-1-1 like he had tried before. Yohji was about to let the brunette before Aya’s words came back to him and Yohji jumped forward. He snatched the phone away from Ken’s ear and killed the connection before the first ring.

"No hospital," Yohji repeated quietly as Ken turned around on him with disbelieving eyes with his hand still groping for the phone. He looked aghast with Yohji, like the blonde had gone completely crazy. The silence following it vibrated painfully, but he couldn’t let Ken call the hospital. He had to respect Aya’s wishes, even if the redhead was probably going to die from it.

Damn it all to hell!

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Hoorah, I finally finished this and now can come back to edit things! I feel so much better now, there were a lot of things that occurred to me after I had already written the chapter. So, how does draft two do it for you guys? If you’re a first time reader, yay, but if it’s a second time, I bet this is a much easier read…. I hope it is… I hope that didn’t sound too cocky… Going to try to find a place to live now!
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I Hate Him