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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
- 11
- 12
- 13
Disclaimer: All characters and belong to WeiB Kruez and Koyasu Takehito… I have no idea why they would want them from my story, they’re really broken now…

Aya-chan looked down at Sebastian’s quiet, sleeping face. She was jealous that he managed to sleep so soundly when she couldn’t relax enough to close her eyes. She couldn’t get Ran out of her mind. When she thought of him, she started to feel cold, scared. So, Aya-chan kept watching Sebastian’s face, feeling a bit more relieved in his presence. She curled up to him after he had fallen asleep, wearing no more then Sebastian’s t-shirt and perfectly comfortable with it.

Sebastian was like that, wonderful and charismatic, totally demanding all the attention in any situation. He had been like an angel on one of her safari trips. He had been a part of a touring photo shoot, a model that had visited the village Aya-chan had volunteered at. The children, who worshiped his stories and his ‘basketball’, had loved Sebastian. His self-assured presence and his cell phone had impressed the rest of the village.

Sebastian had stayed behind the tour group on a flippant whim, wishing to stay under the hero praise the village gave him. He had stayed with Aya-chan, and love sparked as she told him about her life and her only family left, Ran. Staying with Sebastian that summer had been like a constant dream. She had everything she needed to be happy if Sebastian stayed with her.

Of course, Sebastian needed a bit more then just her love. Aya-chan understood that. She couldn’t expect someone who wasn’t informed of how life was out here to stay forever in third world comfort. So, when Ran began to send her even more ridiculous allowances, she decided that he must have wanted her to spend it. She made Sebastian a home with her out in the untouched, natural beauty of Africa. There were no cars and busy streets here.

But, then again, Sebastian loved the city. He had delicate skin and wasn’t really suited to the harsh heat of the continent. Aya-chan had to nurse more then a few sunburns on her dear lover. She had taken it in wordlessly along with the relationship. One had to give sometimes, selflessly and without complaint, to ensure a good partnership. When Sebastian had started to do photo shoots again when they came through Africa and talked about going back to debut along with the album, she had gone with him. Back to Europe.

It was another strange, foreign country that Aya-chan had never seen before. Sebastian had shown her all of England, their fall unlike anything Aya-chan experienced before. The colors of the leaves and the beauty of the countryside outside of the busy, modern city had been breathtaking. Sebastian had been with her throughout the whole season, even managing to find a businessman who needed good publicity and offered to support Aya-chan’s charity.

Sebastian and Aya-chan had decided to make a fund together, creating their own new account to help the children. It had been so satisfying to finally find enough money to help the cause and actually do some good. She stayed with Sebastian throughout the last weeks of fall, occasionally flying into Africa to see the children and do the commercials.

However, she found herself drifting away from the kids more and more. She used to be able to recall the face and name of every child in the village she had lived at, but now only a few memorable expressions were all she had. Africa had turned into such a dry, dead ugly place in fall, the plants browning and cooking in the heat. She had fainted from heatstroke several times when they went on location.

She had slowly stopped going to Africa, sickened and repulsed by the once beautiful country. She had forgotten how dusty and sweaty and completely barren of a place it could be. The people spoke horrible English and no Japanese, so there wasn’t anyone to complain to. Sebastian had been the wiser those days, preferring to stay home at the villa. She had missed him horribly, and Africa turned into the armpit of the world.

Aya-chan returned to Europe to stay with Sebastian for the entire winter, not planning to go to that awful place ever again. Sebastian lived in the best of company, with elegant dinner parties and art openings to go to. Aya-chan had started to go with him, to see what his life was like. She had needed dresses and new clothes, because the jeans she had worn in Africa would be a bad joke in this new social circle.

She had never been happier in her life. Aya-chan found herself drifting behind Sebastian, a silent, uncomplaining shadow for him. She was content if she could be with him. Sebastian was happy with Aya-chan as well, as long as she didn’t try to get in his way. Aya-chan followed Sebastian everywhere, sometimes even coming in useful as a Japanese translator. When she had a use that helped Sebastian, she thought she might die from the bliss she felt when he smiled at her.

Then, Ran called out of nowhere, in the middle of a very important museum opening. Sebastian had been mad because he was supposed to be speaking next and Aya-chan had to talk to Ran. Her brother had been rude, suddenly wondering what she was doing and how she was spending her allowance. Aya-chan had to put him on hold for Sebastian’s speech. Ran could be so insensitive sometimes. He just totally ignored common decency and asked her if she had been really spending the money for the charity fund.

It had hurt, to hear her shy, older brother accuse her of being a liar. She had fumed at him, and the silent, weak answers Ran gave back only made her angrier. She had never known him to back down from an argument. It felt like he was trying to coddle her, like she was a child. Aya-chan put her brother on hold a second time on the car ride home. Sebastian had soothed her down somewhat, but when they got back to their apartment, Aya-chan turned on the cell phone.

Sebastian’s hard work to relax her was all blown away as Ran demanded she return to Tokyo that day. She had been insistent on not going until Ran offered the money for the tickets. Sebastian called for ticket reservations with the credit card number her brother gave them while Aya-chan stayed on the phone. Sebastian was always ready for a vacation, and it rarely mattered where he was going.

Aya-chan frowned, thinking back on her brother. On the phone, he had been so secretive, meek about giving away any details as to what was going on. Ran had only said that there had been an accident and he needed to see her right away. Aya-chan had, of course, flown in that night. She had been worried to death that Ken or Omi had been involved in some sort of crash on those motorcycles they rode. Aya-chan hadn’t really given a thought to Yohji. Ran wouldn’t have sounded so concerned if it had been the older, likeable blonde. Aya-chan thought Yohji was funny, but Ran didn’t care for the man. Yohji was the type of person Ran hated- playboys with easy, lazy lives. Ran believed in respecting a woman and working hard, much like their late father.

When she had gotten in the door, Aya-chan suddenly knew that it wasn’t someone else involved in an accident. It had been Ran himself. He had been so thin in the hallway, long and tall but no longer as muscular. Aya-chan had been shocked to see the small, white scars on her brother’s face, pink patches of unhealed skin. One part of his lip was darker then the rest, a scar from being split.

To see her beautiful older brother’s face mutilated so had been upsetting. She pretended to ignore it, knowing that Ran would only get upset if she brought attention to it. He didn’t like to talk about himself. Ran didn’t want to burden anyone else. When that dream had happened, Aya-chan’s stomach had clenched up in fear. Literally, when he had kicked her, lashing out in panic. It was then she knew something was wrong, very different and terrible for Ran.

Aya-chan had been upset to hear what had really happened. She couldn’t believe it, unable to absorb information as fact. Rape was forY
for women. She was the one who should say she was raped. Aya-chan had never, ever thought to hear it from Ran. He was a man, so strong and proud. She remembered how her body had gone cold, breathless and sick when Ran told her how he had gotten the money. She still remembered her lungs restricting; her skin tingling as she realized her brother had been a whore.

Aya-chan shook her head, pulling her thoughts away from such sad things. She shouldn’t dwell on it. The past needed to be put behind people. It could not be changed. But, that pain she now had that she knew that truth hurt. Her heart ached for her brother, to see him so sad and lonely all the time. She had missed this happening. She should have noticed something when he stopped seeing her so much, when he seemed so upset at the airport when Ran saw her off.

Ran was a silent sufferer. He was always thinking of other people, not wanting to share his pain. Aya-chan wished he would tell her more, so he could share some of the memories. It would help him; ease that desperate, painful tension he held now. Ran would probably never speak of it. She saw how it embarrassed him, how he shied away from people. The nervousness was even more severe now, mixed with a sheer terror that Aya-chan had never seen before in Ran.

Sighing, Aya-chan rolled out of her brother’s bed. Sebastian dozed on, his mouth open as he snored on the pillows. She couldn’t sleep, not with these thoughts still in her head. Aya-chan’s stomach was still sore from Ran’s kick, pulling as she stood up. She held her hand on the bruise, sneaking around the room. Aya-chan grabbed the sweat pants she had discarded earlier tonight. She hopped into them easily, Sebastian not even stirring at the creaking of the door as Aya-chan stepped into the dark hallway.

She wondered how early it was. Ran didn’t have a clock in his room, so there was no way to tell. Staying in her brother’s bedroom as a ‘guest room’ was like staying in a hotel room. He had nothing personal decorating the walls, nothing that told her of his likes or dislikesY
After a moment’s thought, Aya-chan believed she would have to tell Omi to wash the sheets tomorrow morning.

Aya-chan padded softly down the stairs. Maybe if she watched some television, she would be able to fall asleep. Late night programming had never failed to send her to into a doze immediately. She put a hand on the wall of the dark living room. She couldn’t see anything in here but the outline of a couch. This could be trickyY

Aya-chan took small, short steps across the living room, being careful not to go too fast. She wouldn’t want to run into anything. Aya-chan made it to the couch and sat down, ghosting her hands along the cushions for the remote. It had to be around here, somewhere.

"Aya-chan?"

She yelped as the lamp on the other end of the couch flicked on. Ran was sitting down, looking at her in confusion. He had obviously been there a while, his legs folded up on top of the couch, lounging on the arm of the sofa. He was wearing a large, black sweater that covered his hands, the collar sagging around his shoulders. It had to be Yohji’s. Ran didn’t own anything that had a scoop neck. Aya-chan knew because of that one birthday she had given Ran a sweater like that only to find out Ran was embarrassed to show off his neck and only wore it with a longneck shirt underneath. Ran would have never worn it at all if not for the fact it had been a present from Aya-chan.

"Can’t sleep?" She joked weakly. He dropped his hand from the lamp as Aya-chan relaxed on the couch again. Ran smiled back at her just as palely, looking faint and ill. He glanced away from her face, over to the top of the coffee table in embarrassment. There was an empty mug there and an open magazine that might have been interesting to Ran hours ago. He shifted, putting his feet back on the ground in front of him. The long pajama bottoms almost covered all of Ran’s feet, only the soles visible. The house slippers he had taken off were on the floor next to the couch. Aya-chan thought them to be Yohji’s, big plush red things made out of velvet. What was Ran doing with all of Yohji’s things?

"No," Ran admitted softly. "I don’t want to worry you again," Ran explained in a rush when he saw her face drop. She blinked at him; surprised Ran had said that aloud. Ran looked away in embarrassment, blushing a bit. Ran was so sweet and bashful when it came to other people, always looking out for everyone else. He was a truly nice person, just like their father had raised them.

"Ran, you won’t worry me… Well, you do worry me, but it will be all right. I’d prefer that you got some sleep," Aya-chan assured him, moving a bit closer on the couch. Ran didn’t look up at her, still studying the wood design of the table. She reached out to touch his shoulder, and then stopped, remembering how he would react. His eyes were already latched onto her hand, like he might look at a poisonous snake.

"Please… Ran, brother. Tell me what happened. Please. I want to know," Aya-chan insisted. She demanded to know, as his sister. It was her duty to hear every detail. Ran finally looked her in the eyes, nothing showing on his face. When had he learned to school his expressions like that? Ran’s sudden mastery of showing none of his emotions scared Aya-chan. This wasn’t how her brother really was. He had been such a sweet, expressional child.

"Aya-chan, I’m sorry. I’ve shamed you," Ran said very softly. Ran always took the blame. He seemed to think himself responsible for everything in the world. If the sun didn’t rise, Ran would find a way to blame it on himself. Aya-chan shook her head, reaching forward and taking Ran’s right hand in her left. He didn’t pull away; looking down at her grip like it was the first time anyone had held his hand.

"Ran, you’re an amazing older brother. Nobody else would have done this for me," Aya-chan told him, trying to explain to Ran how impressed she had been. It was true; nobody would become a prostitute to help raise money for their little sister. It made Aya-chan… frightened, to see that sort of dedication. It was terrifying, to be shown this hard, cold side of Ran that had made it through so manyY
‘jobs.’

Aya-chan thought she might cry. She held the tears in, trying to remain strong for her brother. He wasn’t crying as he nodded, taking his hand away from her light grip. Ran slowly pulled the hem of his sweater up, obviously scared to be half-naked as he took off the shirt.

"That goodbye night… I told you about it," Ran whispered, knowing he wouldn’t need to speak loudly to be heard. His chest and back were very white, paler then Aya-chan had ever remembered. Her brother was all bone and muscles; not nearly enough fat to be healthy. She could see the small breaths he was taking, the ribcage moving in the chest.

It was horrific, to see the old bruising and discoloration, pink blotches where his skin hadn’t entirely healed yet. Ran wasn’t superhuman. He couldn’t be expected to heal immediately. Aya-chan couldn’t believe it, blinking at the offenses on her brother’s body. Those scars on Ran’s face were only a small part of the whole. She raised a hand to her mouth, horrified. Her brother didn’t get beaten like this. He was stronger then this.

"This…." Ran brushed fingertips across the rough, pink patch of skin on his face. "Someone shoved my face in the floor, and I split the skin trying to… get away," Ran explained, trailing off at the end. Aya-chan nodded, blinking hard to keep the tears in her eyes. How could her dear, innocent older brother go through such an ordeal? Ran was her brother; he shouldn’t be confiding about being raped. Men weren’t supposed to do this.

"I got punched here. It split the skin," Ran explained, using his pointer finger to brush a few bangs aside. Sure enough, a thick, puckered white line went across Ran’s eyebrow. Aya-chan gently reached out, running her fingers over the scar. He didn’t look at her as she touched the wound, feeling the healing skin.

With her small amount of medical trailing, Aya-chan could tell Ran had more serious injuries then he was letting on. The scar felt deep, very painful. It must have bled like a river. Ran didn’t explain the small sign of a scratch on his chin. Instead, Ran pulled away his ear tail with one hand, revealing his neck. The junction with his collarbone was a taut slope, riddled with red circles.

"I…It’s…. bite marks," Ran said hesitatingly, swallowing loudly afterward. She watched the throat muscles jump in her brother’s skin. She looked closer at a light, pink half moon was on the flesh, the size of a human mouth. Aya-chan wouldn’t have noticed if Ran hadn’t told her. ‘Bite marks?’ The image of a larger man over her brother tried to form in her mind, picturing another male kissing Ran so passionately that he bit him. It banished very quickly. Ran would kill anyone who did that to him.

"These… are also bites," Ran whispered, pointing to his chest. One nipple was half-red, half brown-purple, mutilated from a stranger’s mouth. There was still a pale blue bruise around the healing set of teeth in Ran’s flesh encircling the pebbled nipple. The other one didn’t look as mangled, still whole and pert. But… A mouth? Here? Another man sucking on her brother’s chest. This just couldn’t be real.

"Someone… hit me with a belt," Ran’s voice barely audible anymore. He lifted up his arm, showing the light, barely noticeable white lines on his ribs and sides. They looked like welt marks. Someone used a belt like a whip on her brother? It…It’s horrible. Aya-chan had been right to think that Ran would never allow that to happen. They had to beat him to have sex. This was why it was rape. Oh, God, help me. This can’t be real. My poor Ran.

"Ran, oh, Ran. I’m so sorry," Aya-chan tried. She didn’t know what to say. What was she supposed to tell her brother? It shouldn’t have happened because he was man? There was shame in the act, and Ran had fought as hard as he could. He had been overpowered. That wasn’t his fault. This can’t be happening. Someone, please, just make it all better, like it used to be, Aya-chan prayed, thinking back to when Ran smiled all the time. He looked up at her sadly, meeting Aya-chan’s eyes slowly. One tear welled up and went down the side of his face, Ran looking so ashamed and embarrassed. He looked back down, not even able to meet her gaze.

"I… I tried to fight. I didn’t want to. Aya-chan, I didn’t… want to do it. Ever," Ran begged, his voice starting to go rough. Another tear went down on the other side of his face, and he scrubbed at it with the back of his hand, trying not to cry in front of her. It’s notY
possible. It’s Ran, my brother Aya-chan tried to deny it. It was all her fault, for asking for money. How could he have gone to these lengths?

"Ran, I believe you," Aya-chan whispered, catching one of his hands in both of hers. She looked down at the bare arm, noticing the large, pink scars circling each of Ran’s wrists. He… he must have been bound somehow, tied up or something. Ran had fought it, struggling so hard that he damaged his wrists this badly. How could she have been ignorant of this? How could she have missed the signs of Ran’s suffering?

"I’m sorry. I tried, Aya-chan. There were so many of them," Ran tried to defend himself, bowing his head toward her. She felt tears, suddenly helpless to fight them anymore. Not when Ran had started to cry, his voice hitching as he kept trying to apologize. She was an awful sister. She had totally let Ran down, not noticing how much he had been hurting. She hadn’t worried as much as she should of.

"I’m sorry, Aya-chan. I’m sorry," Ran begged, pleading over and over again, tears running freely down his face. He bent his head, his bangs hiding his eyes from Aya-chan as he seemed to shrink on the couch, growing smaller. Aya-chan felt guilty and horribly spoiled. Ran had gone through so much, just because she had selfishly asked for more money. It had been for Sebastian, though. I don’t know… I don’t know what to think anymore. She was starting to feel sick with the weight of it all. How could Ran have done this?

"Ran, it’s all right, it doesn’t matter," Aya-chan yelled, hugging him to try and stop the babbling. She wanted to stop thinking about such things. She just wanted Ran to become her big brother again. Ran didn’t break into tears. He wasn’t like that. She hugged him close; ignoring the crying her brother was trying to do. She started to sob, feeling so miserable, so cold.

She couldn’t believe the truth. She didn’t want to hear it. Ran wasn’t a gang rape victim. He was her respected older brother, a wonderful reader and writer. How was Ran ever going to make a poem now, after such violence? He used to smile so much more when they were younger. Why couldn’t she get Ran to laugh like he used to? Why had this happened to him?

"It’s not your fault, Ran," Aya-chan whispered very fiercely, smoothing down the top of his hair. Ran shook his head, miserable and silent as he rested on her shoulder. They both continued to cry for a while, neither of them talking. Aya-chan could tell that Ran didn’t want this moment ruined with words. He would speak more, when he was ready. Right now, Ran wanted her to stay with him, not bringing up any more painful subjects.

Ran was the first to stop the tears, gaining back his composure quicker then Aya-chan. She sniffed as he gently pushed her away to pick up his shirt and sweater. Ran pulled on the clothes, taking a moment to smooth out the fabric. Aya-chan sat up straighter, trying to dry her tears before he saw her. She tucked her hair behind her ears, looking back at her brother with a false smile. Things will get better, won’t they?

"Let’s go back to bed," Ran suggested, holding his hand out to her. Aya-chan smiled, thankful that Ran still wanted to touch her. She pressed her palm into his, gripping the hand tightly. She didn’t want to let go of her brother for a while. She was afraid that if she let go, Ran might get hurt again. How could she have been so ignorant of what had been going on?

"Okay," she whispered, rising off the couch with her brother. They both walked up the stairs at the same time, holding hands. Aya-chan smiled at him as they climbed up the steps, Ran trying to grin back at her but failing. His eyes were softer then his face, telling Aya-chan that somewhere, there was still a glimmer of her old, familiar brother.

"Thank you, Ran," Aya-chan said softly as he stood next to his bedroom door. Aya-chan put a hand on the knob, softly saying ‘goodnight’ to Ran. He nodded, turning to leave, going to Yohji’s bedroom across the hall. Aya-chan blinked, moving forward and putting her hand on Ran’s when he went the open doorway. The broken door was leaning against the wall in the hallway, put aside until they took the time to fix it.

"Ran, Yohji’s sleeping in there," Aya-chan reminded him. Aya looked into the dark, unwelcoming room, his face unreadable. He must have forgotten that it was Yohji’s bedroom. She had just assumed that her brother had slept on the couch. That’s where she had found him when she walked downstairs. Then again, there weren’t any blankets on the couch when she had come down. Ran looked at her hand, then away, a light blush breaking out on his cheeks.

"I know," he said calmly, even though he wasn’t meeting Aya-chan’s widening eyes. Ran was going to sleep in the same bed as Yohji? Ran hated him, didn’t he? Aya-chan thought about it, how Ran had calmed down when Yohji had arrived. How Ran had stayed close to Yohji during dinner, though nobody else probably even saw it. Aya-chan knew that Ran was sticking by Yohji’s side, from the way he kept constantly close watch on the man to the way he was always in the same room with the man, never far away.

"So, you’re in love with Yohji now?" Aya-chan breathed, stunned. It just seemed so odd, so sudden. How could Ran have gone to being a rape victim… to… to a homosexual with a lover as sexually minded as Yohji? They were complete opposites! Ran was a courteous, polite young man in public, introverted and quiet. Yohji was a loud, shamelessly open flirt who would live his life for only one person - himself. Ran didn’t believe in living without taking on certain responsibilities. How could he be in love with such a tasteless man as Yohji?

"I don’t know," Ran said brokenly, very lost in whatever emotions he felt toward Yohji. "But he won’t hurt me." Aya-chan blinked at the belief in those words. How could Ran say such things, with such finality? So, Ran thought Yohji would never harm him, but his own sister would? The words stung more then she wished they did, reminding her of why Ran was hurting in the first place. It’s my fault. Ran wasn’t saying it aloud, but it was clear to Aya-chan.

Ran stepped into the bedroom, the darkness closing up and absorbing he as he went deeper into Yohji’s room. Aya-chan was left alone in the hallway, the early morning dark making the house cold and black. He had chosen Yohji over his sister. She didn’t want to feel jealousy, but it was there, ugly and spiteful. She had been the only one who Ran had turned to for years! She was his cute little sister! Why was it suddenly Yohji, the irresponsible jerk who slept around all day long, that Ran went to for comfort?

She was starting to feel anger toward Yohji. The man had probably seduced Ran when he was weaker, recovering from the attack. When her brother wouldn’t have been able to see through the act. Aya-chan had seen several of Yohji’s relationships come to a sudden end when she visited her brother at work. Yohji was a lying pig, being caught in an affair more then once. He wasn’t good enough for her Ran.

She would have to hide this for now. Ran wouldn’t listen if she tried to warn him about Yohji’s act and the infidelity that he would commit. Ran was infatuated with the man; he would just ignore her. Yohji just wantedY
sex. That was obvious to anyone who looked. Ran was blind to it; he only saw the romantic, loving face that Yohji was putting forth.

It was very good, she would give him that. Aya-chan had almost thought it was real when he had broken down the door and went to Ran’s side that night. But, now that she thought about it, Yohji was only pretending to love her brother. She could remember times Yohji had smirked at Ran’s backside, leering at her brother like a dirty old man. He was bad news. He wasn’t sensitive enough to her brother. Yohji didn’t know Ran like she did. Aya-chan was sure that she was correct. Ran would see it too, eventually.

She could talk about it with Sebastian later. He was better at figuring out these sorts of things. Sebastian would be able to come up with a plan. She didn’t want Ran to stay with Yohji another moment. He was so different now, and it was all probably because of Mr. Kudoh’s ‘loving’ care. Ran would usually just bounce back from injuries or accidents, no matter how serious. He was strong like that. Yohji was somehow hindering that, with the way he circled around Ran, looking like the hyenas that would surround the village at night back in Africa - that was until Sebastian had gotten the shotgun mailed to him from England.

Sebastian was still sleeping as Aya-chan snuck in. She wanted to go sightseeing with Omi and Ken tomorrow morning, like they had planned, no matter what had happened tonight. She also wanted Ran to go with them, but if he wasn’t up early enough in the morning, she would have gone without him. Aya-chan supposed Ran deserved his sleep more then she did. It would be better if he wasn’t sleeping with Yohji, but she wouldn’t be able to do anything about it now.

Aya-chan got underneath the covers again, cuddling up against Sebastian’s body. He grunted, but otherwise remained sleeping. Ran and Yohji could wait for another day. Tomorrow would be a tour and some shopping. After that, she could talk to Sebastian. They were going to have to leave soon as well. Sebastian had a photo shoot planned in England and he would need to go back soon.

Aya-chan would of course go with him. She considered herself close to a wife now for Sebastian. Their relationship was the longest he’d ever had in his life. As long as she didn’t get in his way, they could be together. Ran would always be her brother by blood. Sebastian had no such tie to her. She wouldn’t let him slip out of her grasp that easily.

Sighing, Aya-chan let her thoughts calm down as she fell asleep. Sebastian would be there for her, as long as she was there for him. That was way the relationship worked. No side could give everything selflessly. Unlike Ran, who was veryY
traumatized by his past relationships, Aya-chan knew what was right and proper for love.

* * *

Aya awoke to the sun in his face and eyes. Moaning at the light, Aya dug his face further into the pillow, trying to hide from it. It was so bright, coming through the window in a blinding brilliance that made Aya never want to get out of the bed. The sunshine made him sick, miserable. It would be one of those days when everyone wanted him to go outside. Aya hated going outside on these bright, busy days, when the crowd would be so cheerful and hectic that it would make his head spin.

He sniffed, realizing something smelled like cigarettes. He blinked his eyes open, slowly, in case the sun decided to burn his retinas again. Yohji was dozing on his side of the bed, one arm thrown over his eyes. Aya had been sleeping on the blonde’s chest, the sun bright on the white of Yohji’s shirt. It was still a surprise to wake up with Yohji, when one dreamed of such different places.

Aya didn’t move for a moment, resting his head beneath Yohji’s throat again. The man took a deep, steady breath, making Aya’s body move up and down with the slow filling of Yohji’s lungs. He could hear Yohji’s heart beating underneath his ear, pumping blood throughout him. Strange, to not feel so panicked at the closeness of another’s body. Yohji just wasn’t dangerous, sleeping on obliviously.

He let himself lay there for a while, not willing to move out when he was so warm. It was rare to be this comfortable. Even his fingers were warm, not the cold, pale digits he was used to working with. He just couldn’t work up the blood circulation. It was as though not even his heart wanted to keep him alive. Whenever he wound up in bed with Yohji, the man would warm him up. It was like having a personal heater.

After a while, Aya decided it was time to wake up. The sun was already out, judging by the light in the window, and there was still work to do in the flower shop. He tried to wake Yohji up, but the man refused to move on his own. So, Aya had to detach himself from underneath Yohji’s body, slowly pulling his arms and legs away. He didn’t want to lay with Yohji anymore.

He couldn’t stay in the same bed with Yohji for so long. He didn’t deserve it, not when he hurt so much from last night. Yohji would see that he was feeling miserable, and would make him talk about it. The man was irritating like that. Aya had been lucky that Yohji was asleep when he snuck in last night after saying goodnight to Aya-chan. It had been a relief to escape from her disgusted, surprised gaze.

Yohji just moaned and nuzzled the pillows, like he was trying to find sleep in them. Aya watched Yohji relax again, snoring again. Amazing how the man didn’t fear his dreams and could roll over to sleep again, even though Aya had woken up next to him. Yohji had no feelings of terror in waking up in the morning with another person in the bed. In fact, the man slept like the dead. The jealousy Ran felt shouldn’t have burned as much as it did, but it was there. Ran was used to sleepless nights, unable to touch Yohji for fear of the contact, unable to leave the bed for fear of being kidnapped. He was paranoid, just like everyone said.

Aya stood up, looking around the room. He would have to face Aya-chan today. How could he do that? Not after last night. Aya didn’t want to see his sister’s face, her disappointment as she looked upon her older brother. He hadn’t meant to be so scared. He wished he had been quieter in the dream. Wished he had never opened his mouth.

Talking to his sister had been hard, painful. Her tears hurt him, shinning in her eyes. He couldn’t stop himself from crying as well, no matter how he tried to hold it in. He just felt so ashamed in front of her, telling his sister everything. He was supposed to be her older brother. How could he have let this happen to him?

He had fallen victim to the terror of a dream again, all his struggling and trying to keep it in failing miserably. Yohji usually woke him up before it got too bad. Aya hadn’t gone that far with a nightmare for a long time. Why did Yohji have to leave him for those few minutes? Why did he need Yohji to give him the peace of mind to sleep?

Aya shook his head, walking across the room. He didn’t need anyone. He grabbed a pair of clean jeans from the dresser, slipping into them comfortably. He left the shirt from last night on, venturing out into the hall alone. Maybe no one would be awake yet. He didn’t know what time it was, and he couldn’t muster up the energy to care.

He just... didn’t want to see Aya-chan. Desperately wanted to avoid her. It would be hard to face Aya-chan again, when she knew what he tried to hide under his clothes. She would look at him, staring through the fabric and at the scars she knew were there. Like the rest of them did. The only person he had to be careful about was Sebastian. That irritating, indolent asshole still didn’t know the story behind his scars, behind the money Aya-chan had been getting.

Ken was the first person Aya saw. He was trying to cook himself breakfast, an attempt they all knew usually ended in disaster. Ken wasn’t a chef, no matter how much he liked to eat. Aya sat down at the kitchen table, glancing around for a sign of anyone else. The place looked deserted, devoid of any other life.

"Sebastian and Aya-chan went out with Omi to do some sightseeing," Ken explained. Aya looked up at him from the table. Ken was so loose, comfortable. He was humming as he tried to make pancakes. Aya couldn’t have that kind of carefree attitude. It made him jealous that Ken could be so happy. Everything these days seemed to be so much more hurtful, getting under his skin easier then ever before. He was falling apart.

What was it that was so different about Ken’s happiness? Aya had thought he had stopped feeling those emotions a long time ago. But, when he looked at Ken and Omi, so open and loving with each other, Aya felt anger. He didn’t know why he couldn’t be like that with Yohji. Why it couldn’t work between them. He knew it was his fault, his own pathetic cowardice that constantly kept them apart. His fault.

Ken was in love with Omi. That was the difference. Ken didn’t use the love as some kind of crude excuse to have sex. Aya still… wasn’t sure about Yohji’s love. Ken meant it, every bit of the word. The soccer player made it very apparent to anyone watching that Omi and he were a couple and damn anyone who got offended. Aya couldn’t feel like that, couldn’t allow the chance someone might mock him. Yohji wasn’t the most reliable person as well, his history with love being one that either ended in him dumping another poor girl or someone dying.

Yohji didn’t let the past get in the way of trying to force Aya to accept a relationship, verbally pinning him against the wall. Yohji kept trying to touch Aya, to bring him out of his shell. Aya didn’t want to try connecting with people again. The farther away he was, the safer it was. He didn’t want to reach out again, to let people care about him. They would hurt him, they always had. He had been burned before, but so had Ken and Omi. Aya wasn’t the only one with inner demons. They all had been hurt before, badly. Ken just kept on smiling, looking toward tomorrow. Aya didn’t like being that active, that exposed in the sun. He only felt safe at night, when his senses were heightened and he felt more like a predator. Nocturnal activities fit him better then these early mornings, when he felt vulnerable. The sun had never meant good things for him, always banishing the shadows he could hide in.

These thoughts couldn’t cloud up his mind like this! He had things to do. They still needed to open the shop this morning. He had quit prostitution, so now he had to make enough money at the flower shop to pay for Aya-chan. Then again, Aya-chan did say that she never wanted money from him again. She probably didn’t want to have a thing to do with him. She was ashamed of him. That was why she had left before he woke up this morning. He couldn’t blame her. He was a sinful person.

"You okay, Aya?" Ken asked from the stove. Aya nodded. He supposed that one day he would mean it, instead of acting like he was all right. Yohji kept telling Aya that it would get better in time; that things wouldn’t hurt so much if Aya got used to it. Aya wanted to believe in Yohji, but it was still hard to talk to people, even with such close friends like Ken and Omi. He just doubted himself too much to talk. He didn’t know what to say.

Telling them last night had been almost like a balm. He hadn’t realized how much it hurt to keep on trying to hidden it from them. Now they knew. He wouldn’t regret it, but what had it changed between them? Did they see him for the coward he was? What was Yohji now, too? Aya may have slept with him last night, but he didn’t exchange pillow talk with the man. He was still… safe to Aya. Yohji wasn’t ever in his dreams; that he could count on. Aya didn’t know why, especially now that Yohji had sex with him. Those were the people who usually ended up haunting his dreams, but sex with Yohji hadn’t been painful. Aya hadn’t been cryingY
well, hadn’t been crying in pain. What Yohji did wasn’t a rape; it was act of love. It had been so soft and slow; the only way Aya could probably have endured it.

That didn’t banish the more painful sex he had been through. Yohji’s lovemaking might have been good, but it had only been one night. The other times he had been with different men were more barbed, more likely to hook into his mind. They grabbed root, suddenly springing on him because of something that happened that day. He could be doing nothing more than writing out a grocery list when he would spell something wrong. It would only prove his constant self-doubt right, because other people didn’t make such stupid mistakes.

For some reason, small things like that sent him into a whirlwind remembrance of all times in the past that times he had screwed up, and where it had gotten him then. Aya had learned to accept the fact that he had fallen so low- Yohji needed to as well. Yohji didn’t see Aya as he really was. So utterly crude and low.

Prostitute. Whore. Words like that stuck with him more than Yohji’s beautiful. Yohji was some kind of fluke. It would all end soon with him, wouldn’t it? Now that they had sex, Yohji would move on and Aya could get back to being alone. Back to where he would be safe from Yohji trying to make him happy again. He didn’t want to get hurt. He wouldn’t allow it ever again.

So, what had it been with Yohji? Why did he need to fear Yohji’s love so much? It didn’t have anything to do with charisma or a shared hobby. Yohji had ended up being there, and Aya had needed someone, anyone. Something about Yohji just made Aya want to live again... Or, at least, stop contemplating how he should kill himself. Yohji kept Aya’s thought drifting away from suicide or serious depression. Yohji wouldn’t let him go like that.

Did he belong to Yohji? Was Aya nothing more than a frail dependant on what Yohji chose to gave him? No, he couldn’t accept that. It wasn’t like Yohji would take advantage of their relationship either. The man hadn’t forced himself on Aya unless he said it would be all right. Yohji had taken care of Aya when he was in a much more vulnerable state, keeping true to his promise of protecting him.

Was Yohji more like a lover? Aya didn’t know what to make of it. He hadn’t been in a serious relationship before, not real any kind of real love. The affection he had for his sister was different from this kind of sexual passion with Yohji. Aya was so lost now. He wouldn’t ask Yohji for advice on their relationship. Yohji was the one trying to make it happen. Aya didn’t want to tell him his doubts and suspicions.

Ken would know what love was. He loved Omi. He was an experienced person. Aya thought about it and selected Ken as someone to ask merely because the soccer player was closer to his age then Omi. He didn’t want to go to the younger, untainted boy with this question. He didn’t want to have to lie to Omi after everything he had done for him while Aya was incapacitated.

Ken sniffed as he tossed a pancake. He cursed when it didn’t land right, the gooey side falling over in the pan. He was not presenting the best image of helpful wisdom that Aya could draw from. Ken tried to save it unsuccessfully, making a mess of it in the process. Aya sighed. He supposed he might as well ask now, when no one was around. There was nothing to lose anymore, was there?

* * *

"Ken?" Aya asked softly, his small voice breaking the silence of the kitchen. He was so quiet, Ken almost wasn’t sure if he had heard correctly. He glanced up from the mess he was making on the stove, the pancake ruined. How the hell did Omi cook? It was beyond Ken’s own meager skill with the culinary arts.

"Yeah?" Ken responded distractedly, grabbing the spatula. He tried to chisel the pancake away from the sides, but it had become stuck to the bottom of the pan. The pan only hissed, smoke coming up from the black, greasy metal. Ken turned the heat off miserably. He had ruined yet another breakfast.

"How… How do you know you love Omi?" Aya asked slowly. Ken threw the pancake into the trash. There wasn’t anything to salvage from the burned mess. He supposed it was cereal again. College sucked, because it stole Omi away from him. How was he supposed to get breakfast now? Wait a second…

"What did you say?" Ken asked suddenly, a bit confused. No way had he just heard what he thought he had. That was just ridiculous. Aya wasn’t asking Ken about his love life. Aya didn’t ask anyone about their personal affairs because he expected no one to ask him about his own. Aya had never shown an interest in Ken and Omi’s relationship before.

"I said," Aya growled, the irritation clear in his voice that he had to repeat himself, "How do you know you love Omi?" Aya was asking him about love?! Okay, Ken could do this. Explaining love to Aya couldn’t be any harder then killing someone, and that never scared him before. Right? It was just really, really freaking weird. Ken threw the pan in the sink, not bothering to clean it. This would take his whole attention.

"Well… I don’t know exactly," Ken started, moving over to the table. Aya looked up at him, in no way smaller because he was sitting down. If anything, Aya’s glare made him look a lot scarier and bigger then he really was. Ken took a seat next to Aya, not ready to tackle the subject standing up. He scrubbed at his face, trying to think of a good answer.

"I guess it was when he cried," Ken said aloud, trying to remember the first time he had decided that he really did love Omi. Yes, it was when Omi had started crying so long ago in Yohji’s room, his honest concern for someone that was so much more then a roommate and coworker. Omi loved them all, really loved them like they were blood relations. And, Ken loved Omi for it too, he supposed.

"What do you mean?" Aya questioned. The answer obviously wasn’t enough for the man. He wanted more of explanation. Some scientific, proven proof about love. Ken sat back in the chair, crossing his arms. He wasn’t the best person to explain this word. Why isn’t he asking Yohji? Yohji knew love like it was a textbook. The playboy had studied every aspect of love and sex and anything possibly related to fucking and turned it into an art form. Ken just fumbled around with Omi, both of them making it work out together, somehow.

"Aw, damn it, Aya, I don’t know. I just knew I loved him, I didn’t think about it," Ken snapped, unable to answer the questions. He wasn’t good at this type of conversation! Aya stared at him levelly. Expecting more. Did he even hear a single word? It was like Ken was speaking an entirely different language.

"We just… fit… Damn it, I can’t explain it! I’m not the person you should ask about this kind of stuff," Ken yelled, trying to escape the conversation. Why was Aya asking him these things? There was no way he could say aloud that he thought Omi was beautiful...that he wanted to kiss Omi every time he opened his mouth... That his pants got too tight when he watched Omi cook. It was just the way things were.

"Why don’t you talk to Yohji?" Ken suggested, trying to stop the talk. Anything to get the attention somewhere else. Aya’s piercing gaze was making him squirm. It was like Aya could read Ken’s mind, knew every thought that was running through his head. That he wanted to have sex with a boy only a day over being a minor. And Omi looked even younger then that.

"I’m asking you," Aya hissed, not pleased with his proposal. Ken blinked, looking up at Aya in surprise. That had been venomous, like Ken had told Aya to cut off a hand. Aya’s eyes were narrowed, and for the love of God, Ken could swear there was the lightest hint of a blush on Aya’s cheeks. Hey, why is Aya asking me about love? And why can’t he ask Yohji? There were so chummy nowadays, a step below a normal couple. This was starting to get suspicious.

Ken was quiet for a moment, thinking about it. Aya didn’t yell at Yohji nearly as much. Well, when he yelled, Yohji didn’t get as mad anymore, so it didn’t seem as violent. It was a nice change from the two of them throwing punches and furniture. His hand came up to his face, scratching his nose unconsciously as he fit the pieces of the puzzle together. Sighing, Ken came to the realization he had been oblivious to what was right under his nose yet again.

"Do-do you love Yohji?" Ken asked very slowly. He could have phrased it better, or something. He could have been more diplomatic about it, worked the words better so that Aya wouldn’t get pissed off. But, Ken didn’t know how to speak like that. All he knew was how to be honest. Aya’s eyes widened, like Ken had told him that Omi was pregnant.

"Love him?" Aya sneered, laughter in his voice as he covered up the surprise.

"I hate him," he scoffed, like the idea of love was nothing more then an object, something not even worth his time. Ken raised one eyebrow. That was the biggest load of bullshit he had ever heard in his entire life! Oh, he knew Aya lied, and Ken also knew most of the time he missed it. He had been fooled many times when Aya had said ‘I’m fine’ before, only to find out the redhead had taken a bullet in the bottom of his ribcage. That was usually after he passed out from blood loss.

Right now, Ken was certain that Aya was lying through his teeth. Yohji was the only one Aya talked to at any length. Yohji was the only one who could touch Aya more then briefly. There was something there, as much as it conflicted between them. They might be total opposites, and they both might damn well hate each other with the way they argued and yelled. But, for some reason both of them needed each other and it was working, however violent and abrupt it had been.

"Whatever," Ken brushed it off, like erasing chalk on a board. Aya’s mouth stayed opened, obviously ready to say more but cut off by Ken’s comment. Ken smiled, putting one elbow on the kitchen table and resting his chin in his hand. He leaned in close to Aya, rewarded by the man leaning back in confusion. Time to turn away from such low, negative thoughts.

"Are you hungry?" Ken had given up on cooking. It was a lost cause anyway. He couldn’t cook even if it was a frozen dinner box. It was just impossible. Aya sighed, not ready to argue with Ken that he was changing subject. It wasn’t like Aya would bring love up again. It was too emotional, too romantic for Aya to even touch. He just didn’t think about that softer side of life, the one where you enjoyed yourself.

"You can’t cook worth shit."

Not everyone had to be brutally honest. Ken kept on smiling; hoping that he could convince Aya it would be a good investment. If the redhead cooked, it meant Ken wouldn’t try to do so again. Aya sighed in defeat, pushing away from the table. Ken cheered, promising to do the dishes, clean the toilets or whatever else he needed.

"You owe me," Aya insisted as he pulled out a clean pan. Ken nodded, ready to owe Aya a thousand times over if it got him the redhead’s cooking. Ken liked the taste of Aya’s style… Even if it burned the inside of his mouth out sometimes.

* * *

The day had continued much smoother after that. Aya had been forced to cook Yohji up a meal as well, grunting the whole time about not being a maid. When Yohji had come downstairs to see Ken finishing off the last of a home cooked breakfast, he had demanded the same, saying it was his right as a member of the household. Aya didn’t want to deal with idiots in the morning, so he just cooked again, not bothering to argue.

Now, they had started to open the shop, filling it up with schoolgirls and businesswomen in no time. Various people came in and out for wedding orders, birthday day parties, and family reunions. Such happy events. Aya wondered at the sheets, thinking about what it would have been like. If he hadn’t ruined his life so.

Aya had started on floral arrangements, no more then halfway through the first of the day when they got flooded with customers. Yohji needing help at the cash register had distracted Aya from trying to finish and clean up. How quick he had been to stop his work and come to Yohji’s aid. The redhead made it look like the most loathsome task he had ever been asked to do, but he had rushed over nonetheless. It was nice toward the back of the shop, away from the crowd. Aya didn’t like all these people, all these hands to avoid.

"Aya, are you having trouble with the orders?" Yohji asked. Aya glanced up from staring at the sheets. Yohji was looking at him with concern over the edge of his sunglasses. The shop was rather full right now, bustling with patrons and fan girls. Yohji shouldn’t be looking so calm and taking the time to watch after him. Aya could do fine by himself. He glared at Yohji, insulted that the man thought he was in need of Yohji’s care.

"No," Aya snapped, turning around. He excused himself, working slowly through the crowd. It was hard to navigate if one didn’t want to be touched by these strangers. He had to check on the white lilies. They had several arrangements ordered, and Aya’s services would be demanded very soon. He was the best out of all of them, professionally excellent at whatever he did well in. Funny that floral design turned out to be a hidden talent.

Aya looked at the large shelves they had installed, trying to count the buckets of lilies. There was a cooler to display some of Aya’s older arrangements underneath the shelves, tucked away under the descending stairs of the shelves. They served as displays as well, showing off their stock of flowers without looking too messy. He would need to do some more display arrangements. These were starting to wilt, over a month old. It had been so long since he had felt the courage to walk into the store and go to work.

Aya leaned forward, tapping the pen thoughtfully on his lip. They would need more roses as well, the mental reminder coming back. Aya scribbled it down on the margin of the order he was already working on, not wanting to forget again. His memory seemed to be a poor thing these days. When he finished writing, he set down the pen, picking up some clippings on the ground that must have been forgotten from this morning.

Aya felt something trail over his rear, across the back pocket of his jeans. He jerked up, dropping the clipped stems and leaves. Every muscle went taunt as a wire, his stomach twisting and trying to escape his body. The shop was suspiciously calm, distant. Girls laughed slowly, Aya not seeing their faces. What had it been? The bright flowers swirled around him, Aya trying to spot the threat.

"Hey, Red," a familiar, cold voice whispered against Aya’s throat. Aya hissed, turning around. A gun was on top of his navel, driven up against the shirt. An older, over-muscled man bent over Aya, grinning in triumph. A younger girl smirked close to the retired policeman, rolling a lock of hair in her finger Aya sank away, frozen in fear. No. He couldn’t run, he couldn’t yell in the shop. He couldn’t endanger these girls. This couldn’t be real.

"I come in to buy a bouquet for my sweet little flower here," the man smiled, jerking his head back to his female companion. Aya stared up into the face, sweat breaking out on his forehead. His throat went dry and for moment his stomach rebelled, threatening to be sick all over the place.

The man smirked down at Aya, knowing he had won. He was an older, regular customer, very influential. He had been an officer of the law, but was forced to retire after being implicated in an embezzlement scandal. The man was hulking, taller then Aya. He was impotent, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t still ejaculate. No sperm would be of any use anyway if they were wasted on a man.

"And, I find the original blossom right… here," the retired man grinned, shoving the gun harder into Aya’s stomach. It hurt, but Aya didn’t move away under it. He wasn’t a blossom. He wasn’t a flower. Aya was sick to death of street names and terms of affection. He would face this like a man for once in his life. He wouldn’t surrender again, fall into a trap. Not one more time. Not one more fucking time.

"Look a’ch you, all nice like. Wish I could get me a nice job like this," the female whore whined, looking around the store. The girl was Angel, a whore from England. She was wearing a short, red dress with a nice view of her bra. There was no way that high of skirt could be considered decent. Her bright ash blonde hair was down, long and stylized around her thin face. She was more then fashionably slender. Her arms and legs were barely more than twigs.

"Wish me could," the girl whispered again. She probably did. Nobody was really proud of their job. It wasn’t like they could go out in public. The customers passed by, ignorant, unknowing. Aya couldn’t call out to them for help. That would get someone shot. Aya didn’t know if it would be him or someone in the crowd, but he couldn’t run the risk that this man would shoot one of the girls. Aya wouldn’t mind so much if it were him.

"Oh, ho, the lovely Red works in a floral shop," Angel sneered in her bad, accented Japanese, turning her attention back on Ran. She probably couldn’t be happier Aya had quit. She had been second most popular in the underworld, most desired below himself. They had worked for the same man, and she had tried to fight with Aya. It was hard to argue over territory and such with someone who didn’t even like their job. Now that Aya had removed himself from the brutal politics of pimping and whoring, she was probably bringing it in.

"Are you still icy, even in a nice place like this?" the man smiled, poking the nozzle of the gun between the buttons of the shirt. He bent over Aya’s face, his spiked black hair blocking out the sun from Aya’s view. The barrel caressed Aya’s abdomen, the man’s huge trench coat blocking the gun from any of the girls’ sight. Aya tried to remain calm, looking up at the man with his hands on the counter behind him. Please, Aya begged, someone, give me strength.

The man sniffed heavily, rubbing at his nose. The bastard was still doing drugs, probably why he was daring to attack him in public like this. Aya backed up, the shelves hitting his back. The pots rattled, pushed out of his way as he tried to move backward. There was nowhere to go. Angel laughed at his fear as the man closed in. Aya’s breath left him, his blood pounding. Not a panic attack. Aya felt fear in his wrists, in his neck, in his veins where the heart uselessly pumped life through his veins. Aya wanted to die. He didn’t want to remember this malicious person. He didn’t want to think about those nights.

"Baby, you still gonna buy me flowers?" Angel whined as her man’s attention was turned elsewhere. Aya looked up at her wildly. They had found him by chance, stumbling in on the flower shop because she wanted flowers. It meant that nameless, skinny pimp hadn’t spread the word to Aya’s location. He probably didn’t want others to find out so he could capture Aya for himself. Good. It bought Aya a bit of security.

"You still want to be a popsicle? Need me to teach you another lesson about being cold?" the man sneered at Aya’s silence. Aya shook his head. He didn’t need to be reminded, no; he knew what disobeying could get you sometimes. The threat of a popsicle up the ass was more then enough to make Aya back down. The man smirked, laughing softly at Aya’s quick surrender. The public eye was helping him intimidate Aya into submission.

The man opened up the front of his pants with his free hand, still keeping the gun on Aya’s lower torso. He motioned down to his groin, leaning forward so the trench coat would cover their hands. Girls giggled next to them, oblivious that Aya was trapped underneath this man. Angel picked up a bouquet of flowers, picking off the white daisies from the arrangement as her man tried to force himself on Aya.

"Touch me, bitch," the man ordered softly, easing the safety on the gun. The girls blinked over on hearing such language. This man wouldn’t hesitate to kill Aya if he tried to warn the girls to run. He would get away with it too. It helped to have connections in the police department. Aya raised up his hand, trembling. He didn’t want to, he didn’t want to do this, but he was scared. He was scared of being punished, being ‘taught a lesson.’ Yohji had promised him he would be safe from this.

Aya blinked at the tears, putting a cold hand against the man’s bobbing erection. The girls turned away, moving back toward the front of the store, whispering about him. What else could he do? He couldn’t stop this; he would alert the store to something. He couldn’t do anything at all, Aya realized with a sinking, chilling feeling. He had to surrender again. He looked up at the man’s face, noticing that he was already smiling from the pleasure. Aya hadn’t even moved yet, just stared down at the penis in his hand without the faintest clue of what to do.

"Baby, come on, I can do that for you," Angel whined. He growled at her, putting a hand on the shelves Aya was perched on. He was already hard, flopping around in Aya’s loose, scared grip. The retired policeman put the hand with the gun on Aya’s zipper, pointing the barrel at a far more dangerous part then Aya’s gut. It poked him through the jeans and underwear, mashing his balls up against the muzzle of the gun.

Aya was ordered to hold the man tighter. He couldn’t do it. Aya was frozen, helpless to move. With a snarl, the man used his free hand to wrap it around Aya’s. He jerked himself off with Aya’s hand in between his own, getting off on it. Aya wanted to someone to stop this. Didn’t they all promise they wouldn’t let this happen? Aya looked over to Ken, by the register as he waved goodbye to someone. Omi was moving away from Aya slowly, turning his back as he brought out a bouquet of flowers for some customers. No, please, notice me. Don’t ignore me!

Yohji looked up over at them, his eyes narrowing as he saw Aya underneath the man’s shoulder. Aya silently begged him, praying that Yohji would recognize that he was in serious trouble. He wanted Yohji to come help him, stop this. The old police officer glanced back, the gun lifting away from Aya’s stomach. He had noticed the shift in Aya’s gaze, and he knew whom Aya was looking to for help. He turned around on Yohji, who had tried to rush in closer.

"And who’s this?" the man sneered, "Your ‘Romeo?’" He lifted the gun up, aiming it on Yohji. The girls closest to them screamed, throwing themselves back as they saw the revolver. Yohji froze, backing up at the new threat. He couldn’t very well use the watch in public, even if it would disarm the target. Ken and Omi yelled out from the counters, unable to break through the suddenly rampaging, panicking crowd. Girls ran for the door, screaming and knocking things over in the rush to get away.

"Say ‘goodbye’ to your lover, Red," the older man laughed, aiming the gun at Yohji’s head. Aya looked up wildly at the retired police officer. He couldn’t do anything if the man was threatening him. Aya was helpless before this man when it came to his own sake. But, suddenly, when the man threatened Yohji, he didn’t feel so scared anymore. He knew what he had to do, his fingers searching behind him.

Aya grabbed a pot off the shelves behind it and slammed it into the side of the man's head. It shattered easily, the potted daises destroyed forever as the gun fired off into the roof, away from Yohji. The man roared at Aya, Angel shrieking as the gun went off and shot a hole in the ceiling. Aya grabbed the man’s wrist, trying to throw off the aim. There was a second fire and the bullet went out a window, shattering the glass into the street. Girls screamed, trampling each other as they ran out wild on the sidewalk.

"Aya!" Yohji’s yell was heard over the crowd. Aya wanted him to stay down. He could take care of this now, since it was Yohji’s life in danger. Aya kept wrestling with the man, trying to keep the gun off the blonde. Aya released his hold to grab a second pot, heedless of the flowers inside. He floundered for a moment when the man reached up and grabbed a fistful of his shirt.

He hit it on the other side of the man’s head, blood mixing with the dirt. Girls screamed, shoving at Angel as they tried to get out, still held up at the small door. Yohji avoided the few girls who went his way, trying to get to Aya. He didn’t need protection. It was Yohji who needed the defense now. Aya punched the man hard in the face, heedless as the nose broke under his fist. Angel screamed as blood dripped down the policeman’s handsome, square chin. He dropped the gun with the force of the blow, Aya kicking at it. The gun flew across the floor, sent away by the rampaging girls.

The man spat out the blood, settling into a fighting stance against Aya, his forearms raised. Angel screamed, running out with the girls. Yohji tried to get closer, jumping over the knocked over pots and stands. Aya went to the left, faking it as the policeman punched in, opening up his right. He swung around, propelling off the shelves to land a kick on the man’s shoulder. The joint cracked, hit out of place, but no broken bones. Aya couldn’t manage that right now, not yet.

The policeman jabbed out and Aya blocked the uppercut. The knee to his gut was unexpected, making the redhead cough out stomach fluid as he hunched over the man’s leg. Yohji screamed his name, Aya looking down at his attacker’s shoes dizzily. It was those same boots, the ones he had been forced to lick clean. Aya gagged, sick and unable to get his breath.

"Don’t think you’re better then me," he ordered Aya, grabbing his hair. Aya roared, clawing at the hand as the man dragged him across the floor, taking large steps. Aya stumbled, loosing his feet as his vision reeled, dizzy from the painful blow to the lower stomach. His head was forced back as he fell to his knees, like a doll with all its strings cut.

Aya sagged, stayed on his knees only by the stinging grip on his hair. The gun jabbed into his temple, cold and hard on his skin. What could he do now? Girls were still running out of the store, panicking. Yohji yelled out, trying to shove through the crowd but unable to make it to him, pushed back by the panicking girls. Ken was at the door, keeping the girls from getting stuck and holding up the rest. Omi had a dart in his hand, jumping up behind the counter. He must have gotten it from under the register in case of emergencies. Like this. The policeman laughed even though his whore was long gone. He jerked Aya’s head back, nudging Aya’s face with his dick. Seeing if Aya would give him a blowjob.

"Ken, clear the girls out," Yohji screamed from out of Aya’s vision. Aya tried to throw his head back and the man gripped his hair tighter, keeping his face exposed toward the store. All he could see now was the red, swelling erection tapping the corner of his eye. This man would try to force himself on Aya, even now after firing shots in a public area. Aya didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to get away from this. All he could think of in a cold terror was that… It was happening again.

The man made his penis run across Aya’s cheek, toward his lips. Yohji roared at him, telling the man to get the fuck back. The retired man just laughed, knowing that he could tease Yohji. He had the gun. He could shoot Aya through the skull right now and make it all for nothing. Aya wanted the bullet, the quick death, more so then the head being pressed against his clenched teeth.

"Yohji-kun, go!" Omi screamed. The shades suddenly fell down in every window, flicking shut to block the street from view. The blinds swung against the glass, cutting out the sunlight in small, black lines. The lights died in the building, making it almost reasonably dark in the place. Not dark enough to hide Aya from sight. It didn’t hide the dick resting against his face. Aya didn’t want them to see him like this… He wanted to die.

There was a stiffening of the body above Aya, the man’s muscles seizing up for a split second. Aya opened his eyes. He was frozen for a moment, looking out on the dark store and then it was warm, wet. The world was cut through with red, dark blood red. It splattered everywhere across his vision, in his eyes. A head hit the ground, rolling away from Aya to where it would never look at him again.

Aya held his hands up as the body crashed to the other side of him. He was covered in the man’s blood, his hair soaked to the roots with it. It was on his face, his lips, his nostrils, and his eyes. The blood covered his neck, soaking the shirt across his shoulders and arms. His palms were full of small crimson, pools. He had caught this man’s life in his hands.

Nobody blamed Aya for screaming once, trying to spit out the blood that had gotten into his mouth. His movement only made more blood drip into his ears. Aya shuddered, trying not to scream again, trying not to cry. An apron was suddenly swiped across Aya’s face. It was Yohji’s; Aya could smell the cigarettes over the sharp tang of the blood. The crumpled apron served as a small towel, cleaning up the worst of Aya’s face in a panic. They couldn’t clean his hair.

Ken picked up the body from the chest instead of the feet so it wouldn’t bleed across the floor. Ken didn’t mind the open, gaping neck wound below him. He moved the body out quickly, taking it out to the dumpster to hide it. They could dispose of the body better letter, but for now they had to clean up the mess and assure the girls outside.

Aya had blood in his hair. He couldn’t get past the feeling of the cooling, thick jelly liquid in his hair. It made the ear tails stick to his face, caught up in the explosion of blood. Aya felt the blood start to go down his back, too much for the shirt to absorb. It was too much to for him. He was covered in bloodY
He didn’t know why this time should be different.

Maybe it was because Aya hadn’t killed the man. He hadn’t been prepared to get this one’s blood on his hands. He would have liked to, but the policeman’s death didn’t give him any pleasure. Instead, he felt numb with terror, Yohji trying to get Aya to move unsuccessfully. Aya didn’t want to deal with this right now. They were coming to get him... It was like a bad movie...

That’s right, just sit back and watch… It’s like a movie. Aya didn’t want to have to face this, so he could just ignore it, shut down every sense until he blocked out the blood covering his body. Yohji tugged at Aya’s elbow, trying to get Aya out of sight. They had to clean this up quickly and explain the scream to the girls. All because he hadn’t been able to keep his mouth shut. Aya looked up at Yohji through the dimming fog. He could trust Yohji to take care of him, couldn’t he?

Omi threw a bucket on the ground and had a mop out like it was a magic trick. The boy quickly swabbed up the mess, turning the blood into pink, watery bubbles. Aya watch the blood disappear, soaked up by the mop and water, mesmerized by the way the soap shined in the light. Ken came back from the dumpster; quickly picking up the head and jogging it back out to the body.

"Aya, upstairs, let’s start a bath right now," Yohji insisted, dragging Aya up from his knees. Aya just nodded. Follow, obey. Let Yohji tell him what to do. That would be easy, better then thinking about the blood on the back of his neck, on the inside of his arm now as it dripped down. His thoughts were shaken, dull. All he could see was red. Why did this shock him so much more right now? He had killed people before. Why did a rapist’s death stick out in Aya’s mind? He couldn’t stop shaking as Yohji pulled him toward the stairs, leaving small, bloody footprints as he walked across the store.

* * *

Yohji left Omi and Ken to dispose of the body and the blood and come up with an explanation. He didn’t even bother with getting the shoes off, just got Aya into the bathroom. Aya was covered in red. Blood soaked his shirt and his hair. Yohji shouldn’t have decapitated the man so irrationally, but all he had seen was the guy’s penis on Aya’s face. Aya’s eyes had begged with Yohji, telling him that he would rather die then have someone see this.

Yohji hadn’t known if the blinds would really stop anyone from seeing in. He hadn’t cared how many people had already seen it. Yohji wouldn’t allow the monstrosity to continue. He wouldn’t bear looking at Aya’s pleading eyes again. Aya had wanted to die, wanted to end his life instead of having the shame of people knowing about this man.

Yohji had killed the man as quickly as possible, heedless of how close Aya had been. Now Aya was standing in the bathtub, the running water swirling up to his ankles. Aya was in a dazed shock, not even caring when Yohji took of his shirt, tearing off the bloody, wet piece of clothing. His face was striped with the blood and small streaks of pink where Yohji had tried to get some of it off.

Aya wasn’t looking at Yohji, but was staring down at his arms in confusion. He quietly watched the blood dry on his skin, not lifting his eyes to see what Yohji was doing. It scared Yohji that Aya was being this cool with someone touching him. Aya was too distant, too cold, even for Aya. Yohji didn’t want Aya to fall into shock. Not right now.

Yohji took Aya’s jeans and boxers down, surprised when Aya remained calm and standing even though he was naked in front of Yohji. Yohji had expected some kind of reaction, some kind of violence at being naked. Instead, Aya blinked at him, his eyes dead underneath the red mask on his face. It matched his hair, making Aya look like he had longer hair that reached down to the stains on his shoulders.

Aya gasped when Yohji helped him sit in the bath, pulling his arms down when Aya didn’t understand at first. Then, Aya fell willing into the water, sitting on the bottom of the bath dejectedly. Beyond that, he didn’t offer a bit of resistance, blank when his hands landed lamely between his legs. Yohji pulled off his sweater as Aya sagged in the bathtub, staring down at the bathtub. Immediately, the water was stained red, lacy strands of blood swirling in the warm water away from Aya’s body.

By the time Yohji had his sleeves rolled up and the soap from sink, Aya had already turned the bathtub a misty red with blood. He hadn’t moved to clean himself up, staying motionless in the bath. The blood was starting to drip from his bangs and to the bathtub, making it look like Aya was crying small, red tears. Yohji knew Aya wasn’t really crying. Even in this deadened state, Aya would hold onto face. Yohji was sure he would.

Yohji let the plug go, turning on the showerhead to fall on Aya’s head. Aya flinched from the hot water, gaining back a bit of life. Yohji made sure the water was on hot, hoping to stop Aya from going into shock. Aya stared up at the water, unblinking as it hit his face, splattering in his eyes. His face started to melt away, the blood diluting from the shower.

Yohji went to work, scrubbing at Aya’s body with the soap. He just sat down on the edge of the tub, working under the stream and getting soaked himself. The floor was starting to get wet, Yohji unable to pull the shower curtain. He had to get Aya clean first, and then he could worry about this other stuff.

Aya wasn’t helping Yohji out, remaining a statue under his cleansing ministrations. Yohji kept at it, grabbing the shampoo from the corner of the bathtub. He put a large glob onto Aya’s head, working at the hair with his fingernails. The bubbles turned pink at first, but as the shower continued they went down Aya’s face and back, cleaning off some of that blood on the way. The shower began to fill the room with thick, steamy heat, the moisture hanging in the air.

Yohji ignored it, working until Aya’s hair was clean. He moved down to Aya’s neck and shoulders, never putting the soap down. Aya didn’t care as the shampoo was finally washed from his face, his eyes still open and glazed. Yohji wondered just where Aya was right now, what he was really seeing. Did Aya even recognize him now?

He left Aya’s side once, going to the sink to grab a hand towel. Yohji let it soak under the water before covering his finger with it. He scrubbed inside Aya’s ear, inside the arch of skin and behind to make sure there was no blood left. He tilted Aya’s head, gaining access to the redhead’s chin and neck. He swabbed Aya’s lifeless face as well to make sure that the warm water would get his skin clean. Yohji wanted to make sure that he burned away the feeling of blood on Aya’s pores.

It took some time and another bar of soap, but finally Yohji got Aya’s shoulders cleaned to satisfaction. Aya wasn’t showing any signs of waking up, even though his eyes were open. That glassy look indicated that Aya wasn’t really there; he was neither thinking nor recognizing people. Aya stayed limp and unresponsive, not helping Yohji out in any way.

Yohji managed to get Aya’s torso free of blood. Sighing, he let the shower continue. There were still red stains on the side of the tile, and the soap was collecting by the drain, too thick to go down easily. He flicked the wet hair out of his face, scrubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand. They felt swollen from the water, wet and blurry.

When Yohji could finally see clearly again, he got up to take out extra towels. Aya stayed at the bottom of the tub, silent. It was creepy, even for Aya. Yohji decided it was time to rouse the man, even if he didn’t want to cooperate. Aya had just decided to withdraw for a while. That was fine, but he was going to snap out of it right now or Yohji was going to fucking kill him.

He turned off the water, tugging at Aya’s wet arm. Amazingly, Aya responded to Yohji’s silent demand and got to his feet. Aya stepped out of the tub, not fighting when Yohji began to towel down his hair. Yohji dried Aya’s face first, getting the flushed white skin dry before throwing the terrycloth around Aya’s shoulders. The towel covered him modestly like a child at the beach, but Aya was an adult and Yohji couldn’t treat him any differently.

Yohji dried down Aya’s arms with another towel, taking one arm out of the wrap Aya held around himself. Nothing romantic about this, nothing at all. He was working down the body like he would with a pet. Yohji just wanted to kill someone again because Aya was in shock over this. The redhead wasn’t responding, wasn’t saying anything; he just stared forward with blind eyes. Yohji looked up, noticing that a small, single tear was starting to well over in Aya’s eye.

"Oh… Why am I crying?" Aya asked, looking down at the tear. More tears welled up in Aya’s large violet eyes, spilling out from his eyelashes and streaking down his face. Aya gasped at that, wiping a cheek with his palm and staring at it as well, confused at his own show of emotion. Aya held his feelings so closely in check that it surprised him whenever they broke past his mask.

"I’m… crying," Aya repeated, looking at Yohji in confusion. It wasn’t like this was the first time Aya had shed tears. Aya had woken up sobbing before, so scared that he didn’t even know he was crying. Yohji wondered if this was the first time Aya was crying for reasons other than physical pain, inebriation, or night terrors. Aya was stunned at it, staring to Yohji for answers.

All Yohji could do was sag in relief that Aya was talking. It was almost too easy to have Aya back just like that. Perhaps Aya had kind of ‘passed out’ of awareness, but had stayed with his eyes open. Either way, Yohji didn’t ever want to deal with that again. He had been scared, really scared that Aya might not come back this time.

"Yohji… that soap burns," Aya said nervously, suddenly blinking hard as the tears kept coming. Oh, God… Aya was crying because the soap had gotten in his eyes. Yohji could have laughed aloud. Here, he had thought Aya was really upset, gone forever from his reach.

Yohji couldn’t help it. He laughed, relieved that Aya was back to normal. If Aya even had a 'normal.' That didn’t matter it, wasn’t Yohji’s concern right now. Aya was safe; Aya was back with them. Yohji leaned over Aya, hugging him. The towel prevented Aya from reaching up to hold onto Yohji or to push him away. Yohji didn’t care what Aya wanted to do... He just wanted to hold onto him, to reassure himself that Aya was still there.

"What are you laughing about? It stings," Aya complained, unmoving in the embrace. Yohji had mistaken the pain of Aya’s burning eyes for deep sadness. What a joke. Yohji held him tightly, trying to physically press his love into the other man. It was such a relief, a goddamn stroke of luck that Aya hadn’t gone off the deep end.

"Oh, God, nothing, Aya, everything’s fine," Yohji assured him. It was more for his own benefit then Aya’s. He let Aya go, knowing that the man would start to get tense if he tried to hold on for too long. The redhead looked up at him with bleary eyes, obviously wondering what Yohji was up to. When Yohji said nothing, Aya bent down and continued to dry himself off, wrapping the towel around his waist.

"I can’t believe you did that. I was covered entirely with blood. Do you know what that’s like, really like? I mean, completely soaked in blood," Aya snapped, illustrating a fine point. Yohji did not regularly have to go through the spray of blood close up with his weapon. He had not really gotten blood all over his face like it was water. Yohji shivered at the thought, remembering Aya’s shocked, blood splattered face. Water would not stick to someone’s skin like that.

"Shit… I probably make you sick," Aya laughed softly. Aya’s eyes were far away; looking at something else as he handed out self-depreciation like it was candy. Aya loved nothing more then to have a good angst session. Yohji stood up straight to face Aya, needing to make himself very clear.

"Aya, you don’t make me sick. The only time I get sick around you is when you make me too nervous to talk," Yohji denied, trying to look Aya in the eyes. He did feel ill sometimes, trying so hard to restrain himself because he loved Aya to the point of physical pain. He didn’t want to ruin anything. Yohji just wanted to bring Aya out of his shell, and if that meant playing a saint, Yohji could do it.

"You don’t get nervous around me. You always talk," Aya pointed out, like Yohji couldn’t possibly feel remotely timid around Aya. Nothing could be farther from the truth. Yohji felt like he was walking on eggshells all the fucking time, trying very hard not to crush anything. Aya finished drying his body and wrapped the second towel around his head, starting to dry his hair.

"Don’t know what else to do," Yohji returned, being ever so humble. Half of his passes never worked on Aya. It made someone feel like he wasn’t doing it right, even though he had been doing it for years. Yohji guessed the foreplay didn’t matter to Aya, so jaded with the ending result.

"You’re lying," Aya snapped, looking away. Whatever kind of admission Yohji was trying to make, Aya just wouldn’t accept him. Aya wanted to be alone with the guilt. Nobody else could share it. Yohji sighed, shrugging as he turned away. What else could he do now?

"Do you still want to go on a date?" Aya asked distantly, suddenly bringing up the date in the middle of the bathroom. Yohji nodded, a bit confused at this question. What, if anything, did the date have to do with getting dried off in the bathroom? Was Aya checking him? Yohji wondered what Aya could be getting at.

A
You probablyY
don’t want to go outY
after this," Aya said a bit softly. Like it didn’t matter to him. Yohji thought Aya’s eyes were telling a different story, looking sad and prepared for a let down. Aya thought that he disgusted Yohji, for the incident this morning.

A
Aya, it doesn’t matter to me. Whatever you want," Yohji insisted, trying to give Aya a choice. Aya looked up at him, trying to find judgment in Yohji’s eyes. He offered the redhead neither contempt nor benediction. He didn’t believe Aya was at fault for anything, just a victim in the cruel game of life. He smiled, trying to show just how much he loved Aya without saying the actual words. Language didn’t amount to much between them.

"Maybe…later…tomorrow night?" Aya trailed off, on new, uncharted ground. Aya blushed ever so slightly, looking at Yohji’s throat. Not meeting his eyes yet. Aya was still shy when it came to the softer, verbal side of a relationship. Aya had never arranged a date before of his own accord.

Yohji couldn’t have been happier that Aya had asked. He had never imagined himself lucky enough to be graced with such an invitation. Aya wanted to go with him, unlike the other dates he had been pressured into. He had gotten past that first barrier quicker than Yohji had ever thought he would. He had estimated it would be months before Aya would actually want to do something with him.

"You’ll do everything… right?" Yohji asked, his heart starting to race at the opportunity. It would allow him to finally break through the last bit of trauma Aya tried to hide the most. Yohji knew what Aya was most ashamed of: cross-dressing. The redhead never talked about it; he was very tight lipped when it came to those details. He considered it to be the most shameful of all the acts he had done.

Aya blinked up at Yohji’s face, unsure of what the playboy meant. Yohji only smiled weakly, knowing he was asking too much. Yohji couldn’t help it. Curiosity killed the cat, or some damn phrase like that. Yohji was sick of it. Aya had been through too much. What could Yohji hope to change about this situation? He didn’t know if anything he tried would work, but he could pray. A lot.

"’Everything’?" Aya echoed back, his eyes owlish in the foggy dampness of the bathroom. Yohji nodded at Aya’s thin, questioning face. Aya looked away, embarrassed? Frightened now? Yohji had no way of knowing. There was moment’s silence, making Yohji’s chest clench in fear at the length.

"You know… The picture I got," Yohji reminded him. Aya nodded slowly in recognition, trying to figure out what he should agree to, what he could refuse to do. The redhead shook his head once. He knew Yohji meant the picture that Kritiker had attached to the mission file. Aya watched the floor in a blind, thoughtful haze. Now he knew exactly what Yohji was talking about. The one of him in a dress. Aya had gone through the file without Yohji’s consent a long time ago. It wasn’t like he could stop Aya once he was in his mindset.

"You don’t know what you want," Aya sneered mysteriously, not making much sense at all. Yohji opened up his mouth to argue. That was the whole point. How was he supposed to know if Aya kept so fucking silent and stoic all the time? He wasn’t a psychic, he wasn’t a saint and he couldn’t read minds. Aya stared at him; the redhead’s determined violet eyes going up against Yohji’s patient green.

"A
I want to know what the hell is going on Aya. Just for once, just one fucking time, I want you to let me in on this secret. You’re so damn proud of being miserable and you won’t let anyone share," Yohji yelled, pushed and prodded one to many times. He had just killed a man for Aya. Couldn’t a guy get a little gratitude?

There were no such soft emotions in Aya’s face. Aya’s eyes were dark behind the fall of his hair, hidden from Yohji’s view. His skin still had a fresh, healthy glow from the bath, but Yohji knew it would soon fade and return to its soft, white snowy coloration. Aya would revert back to his albino-like pale pallor, and resume the icy exterior again... cold and untouchable.

Yohji made a fist, frustrated and wishing that he could make Aya understand somehow. How could he explain it to Aya? Aya didn’t understand what it really meant, when someone said ‘I love you.’ He didn’t get the finer points of those words; the ones that made them mean something. Yohji sighed, trying to figure out how to salvage the conversation.

"Fine. Damn you. You think it’s so special, fine. I’ll do it. Why don’t you just leave me alone now?" Aya bellowed, finally caving in from the pressure. Aya was going to agree to anything if it meant getting rid of Yohji right now. Aya was crumbling under Yohji’s constant badgering, and was going to keep coming apart unless Yohji left the bathroom.

"You’ll let Aya-chan see," Yohji made Aya swear. Yohji wanted to tear the demon all the way out and expose it to the light of day. The red head looked up at Yohji in utter revulsion, stunned that Yohji would even suggest such an idea. The blonde thought it was a good plan. If he would just go out and do it, Aya would discover that it wouldn’t hurt as much as he thought it would.

"No! No, she’s not going to know about that!" Aya denied, raging against Yohji’s cold determination. The redhead looked up at Yohji, trying to see a reaction, some kind of crack that he could work through. His calm, determined attitude was pissing Aya off, because the man couldn’t get Yohji to react. The lack of response only making Aya more infuriated.

"Fuck you! What makes you so high and mighty?" Aya sneered. Yohji didn’t change his expression, continuing to look down at Aya coolly. He wouldn’t be drawn into a verbal battle. It was all a grandiose attempt to avoid the conversation. Aya wilted underneath the even stare, cringing as he lost their argument.

"She doesn’t need to know. I already told her about this," Aya begged, trying to get out of it. He looked everywhere around the bathroom but Yohji’s eyes, uneasily pulling the towel tighter around his hips. Aya-chan had been told about the prostitution, but she had no clue about the cross-dressing.

"You haven’t told her everything. She doesn’t know what you really did," Yohji returned. Screw trying to stay silent. He was doing this for Aya! Yohji wanted to show Aya that there was nothing to be afraid of. He wanted a fucking chance to prove to Aya that he loved him. Right now, Yohji’s words would do nothing but anger Aya, no matter what he said. Why even try to make this confrontation civil?

"And you know everything? Just back the fuck off!" Yohji took two steps back in a mocking yield, his hands raised up in front of him. He couldn’t force Aya into this. It was like taking on a lion with only a fork. Yohji didn’t really stand a chance when it came to bickering like this. He could only wait for Aya to finally give in.

"Fine, if you don’t want to do this. No reason to get so angry about it," Yohji conceded, and turned to slip out of out the bathroom. Aya was frozen, completely thrown off by someone wanting to avoid conflict. Nobody had ever backed out of a fight like this before.

"Where are you going?" Aya demanded as Yohji went to the door. He looked back at Aya’s thin, proud figure. Aya briefly studied the wall behind Yohji before meeting his eyes, blinking and trying very hard not to look scared.

"Dunno. Smoking? Drinking? Whatever I find, since you don’t want me here," Yohji mused aloud. He was two steps out the door when a hand suddenly grabbed the center of this shirt, making Yohji glance down at his stomach. One white, thin hand, so recognizable and familiar.

"…I don’t want you to go," Aya whispered very softly, a warm body pressed lightly into Yohji’s back. Another arm went around Yohji’s side and Aya hugged him from behind, holding on for dear life. Aya wasn’t making any sounds, just burying his face in the back of Yohji’s neck, hiding away.

"Oh, Aya, I’m not going anywhere," Yohji sighed. It had all been a joke. Like he would ever leave Aya alone in the house with Sebastian sleeping in the next-door bedroom. Yohji felt like a life preserver, Aya holding onto his back in a fierce attempt to keep Yohji from walking down the hall.

"You can tell Aya-chan, you can tell everyone, just don’t leave," Aya pleaded in a rush, trying to barter with Yohji. Yohji put his hands over the curled ones Aya had put in his shirt. He gently pulled out of Aya’s grip, turning around to face the redhead. The tears on his face had dried and gone now, but a distant sadness and fear lingered there. Scared to be left alone again to face his personal demons.

"Are you sure? I’ll stay here, if you want to tell Aya-chan or not," Yohji promised. He wouldn’t use this to force Aya into agreeing with him. How depraved would he be if he were to corner Aya into saying ‘yes’ to him? How would that be any different from forcing Aya to get naked and have sex right now? Aya’s choice, it would always have to be Aya’s own decision.

"I’m not telling her. You can, if you’re so fucking fixated on it," Aya murmured, looking down at the floor between them. Yohji put two hands up on either side of Aya’s face, forcing the redhead to meet his eyes.

"I promise you, I’ll make tonight fun," Yohji swore to Aya. Aya laughed a bit more sardonically then Yohji would have liked, snorting at Yohji’s heartfelt words. Yohji was better at pick-up lines, not these conversations that were more like battles, sparring and dodging between hurtful words.

"You don’t need to talk. Let’s just go to sleep," Aya shut off any more chatting. He laced on hand through Yohji’s, leading them down the hallway. It was late in the afternoon, not quiet evening yet. Yohji didn’t mind. He had come to love those soft, silent moments when Aya would fall asleep before he did. It was those times that Yohji could watch Aya, studying his face in amazement. Wondering how he had ended up being so fucking lucky. And a little bit cursed too.

Aya looked up at Yohji, his face blank as he took Yohji down the dark, quiet hall. The sun was setting above the house, the distant sound of the street outside humming with life. So distant from their own reality. Aya held on to Yohji’s hand, leading them through the broken door and to the bed. It was Yohji’s bed again, now that Aya’s room was occupied with their guests. No, Yohji thought quietly as he crawled under the covers with Aya, the feather comforter soft and heavy. This was their bed now.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: You would THINK it might end there, but wait, there’s moreY
They still have to have Oh, if anyone cares, Yohji and Aya are driving in the magical time warp caused by Yohji’s ultra-oozy fine self, so that’s how they got to the restaurant to quickly. I just wanted do demonstrate there wasn’t an awkward silence. Yohji’s personality is so slick, he speeds up time so they can get from cars to locations to buildings, etc, and save everyone a few pages of agonizingly elongated hints at the real thing but not even getting to the whole big love scene, which didn’t even make it here anyway. But as a side note, I got the best review in my entire life, like, even Germany and England (English people rock, Monty python and English accents are sexy!)? Am I reaching around the world? Kyo Suki was so sweet that I was seriously inspired, listening to ‘You and I’ by the Scorpions. I’m writing down that because I love to share a bit of music with everyone. Thank you for such a positive review, the idea of someone PRINTING this up and reading it before they go to bed is very, very cool to me. I’m writing this here because there wasn’t an e-mail address to you...and I try to keep these light, because that’s how I really am. I’m sorry this has gotten so long, that’s why I rather skimmed (ha pun) dinner so they could get down to dirty dancing! I saw a professional couple tango recently, and I thought it was the most sensual dance ever. Too bad the chick wasn’t Asian and male, but you give and take. I’ve almost got this wrapped up in my head; it’s still a matter of writing it. It takes so long, because there’s so much to explain! But then again I want to finish this because otherwise I’ll have to just shoot this in the foot because I won’t let it go on much longer, it’s a monsterY
I’ve been thinking about what to do next, and I’ve teasing the idea of Saiyuki. Oh, we all know my grammar sucks. If you see any errors, could you PLEASE, please tell me where they are so I can go back and edit. I’m figuring I can start to improve my errors, now that I write this much. It would really mean a lot to me, because then I could repost and even BETTER version to share with people. I’ll end here on the note I found the wallet that I thought had been stolen the first day of school. It had really fallen behind my mattress and the wall. ‘_< I have to report it found to the police, so I’ll think I’ll say it was returned so I don’t sound so stupid. This was a long note…

ALSO: big thank you to cs (sedgi) for editing this big massive thing and doing it so well too!
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