Endless Dark

A/N: Again, characters aren\'t mine. I\'m not being paid for the torture I\'m putting them through. Reviews make me giddy with joy.

Chapter 2 – “Throw Yourself Away”

Aya woke when the bed dipped under an all too familiar weight. He kept his eyes closed and his breathing steady and shallow. He tensed slightly, expecting the usual silken slide of an arm around his waist. When the touch didn’t come he relaxed again, though he still tried to feign sleep.

“I know you’re awake,” Yohji’s voice was hoarse and raw and had the thickness of recently shed tears. “After all this time I know how you breathe.”

“If it was obvious that I was awake, and I still didn’t say anything to you, doesn’t that make it obvious that I didn’t want to talk to you?” Aya didn’t move toward Yohji, only curled tighter around the ball of blankets in front of him. He, too, knew his lover’s breathing; he remembered the rise and fall of Yohji’s chest against his cheek in the depths of the night.

If I can ignore him, he’ll leave; he thought over and over like a litany, trying to keep the rage, passion and hurt at bay. If I don’t look at him he can’t draw me in again. I can stay strong; I can resist the lure he offers with the scent of his skin, the softness of his hair and the earnest look in his eyes.

Yohji moved, the sheets rustling and he lay down behind Aya. Without looking Aya knew he was stretched out on his back, one arm tucked under his head. The other would be…

“Don’t touch me,” Aya said sharply before Yohji’s fingertips could contact his skin. “I told you last night. Never touch me again.”

Yohji sucked in a breath and his hand thumped to the mattress between them, nails scratching restlessly at the sheets. Usually those fingers would be on Aya’s shoulder, then tickling lightly up and down his side until he gave in and rolled up against Yohji, resting his head on Yohji’s lightly tanned chest.

“I… I know,” Yohji whispered brokenly. “I know you’ll never forgive me, that you’ll never trust me. But, Jesus, Aya I lo...”

“Shut up,” Aya snapped, drowning out Yohji’s whispered words with a quiet intensity that was louder than any shout could have been. He couldn’t do this. He had to do this. “I don’t want to hear you lie to me. I won’t listen to you lie to me.”

“It isn’t a lie, Aya,” Yohji’s voice rose, a thread of anger creeping into his tone. “How the hell could you be so stupid that you think I’d say that and not mean it?”

“Why would I think you meant it?” Aya sat up, his back still turned to Yohji, spine a stiff, unbending line that offered no compromise or reconciliation.

“Jesus Aya, sometimes you’re an ass,” Yohji was definitely angry now, and Aya could feel him staring with narrowed eyes at the back of his head. “I wouldn’t say that I…”

“I told you to shut up,” suddenly, Aya was shouting. He’d stood up in a slithering rush of blankets and turned to face Yohji, mouth drawn in a taunt line as if to deny that the outburst had happened.

“Hell if I will,” Yohji stood too, hands clenched into fists in front of him. “What did you think you were doing back there anyway? Did you want to kill yourself? Did I ruin your chance to go out in a blaze of glory?”

“You know damn well that had nothing to do with it,” Aya retorted, pulling on his cold façade like a familiar garment. It seemed to sober Yohji, and for a long moment he simply stared at Aya.

“I know Aya, but there was nothing you could do. There wasn’t enough time,” his voice was quiet, and he’d lowered his eyes to the bed as he spoke.

“There wasn’t enough time because I wasted too much time trying to find you!” Aya snapped viciously, guilt churning hot in the pit of his stomach again. If only he hadn’t been so weak. If only he hadn’t thought that maybe he could have them both, instead of having to choose.

Yohji flinched as if struck, his eyes flying wide as he brought them up to meet Aya’s violet glare. He didn’t speak, didn’t move, just stood in stricken silence. It was too much for Aya. Slowly, deliberately, he turned his back on Yohji before his stony silence broke and gave way to tears.

Yohji’s bare feet were silent on the floor, but the heavy thud as he left the room couldn’t be missed. Aya sighed heavily, pressing his hands over his face to hold back the pieces of himself that threatened to fly free of his restraint. He’d gotten the result he wanted, so why did the slamming of the door fill him with so much despair?

Aya closed his eyes as he heard a sound behind him. He’d hoped to get out without being caught by Yohji. He slid his key into the lock on the trunk of the Porsche, turning it as he spoke.

“Yohji…”

“It isn’t Yohji, Aya-kun,” Omi’s voice was pitched to carry, and Aya could hear the concern in his tone.

“Ah, sorry Omi,” he said, lifting his suitcase into the trunk. Shit, this was something he wasn’t looking forward to.

“Where are you going to go?” Omi didn’t sound angry or accusing, just sad. “Will you come back?”

“I don’t really know, Omi,” he couldn’t help but be honest with the boy. He glanced over his shoulder as he slammed the trunk closed. Wide blue eyes regarded him without reproach while Omi stood silently with his arms wrapped tightly around himself.

Aya turned to face him fully, reaching up to comb his fingers slowly through his hair. It was Omi that crossed the distance between them, with slow, careful steps. He acted a bit like Aya might startle and bolt like a wild animal. When he stood about a foot away he stopped, teeth tugging at his lower lip.

“I… I’ll miss you Aya,” he said simply, and then Aya saw the tears that rimmed the boy’s eyes with glittering wetness.

“I’ll miss you too, Omi,” Aya replied truthfully. Gently he reached out and brushed a hand over the smooth skin of Omi’s cheek. It was the closest he could come to an affectionate gesture, and no one deserved their affection more than Omi did.

“But you won’t miss any of us enough to have warned us that you were going to leave,” the voice was dark and angry, and Aya’s face tightened as he turned away from Omi to face Yohji.

He stood beside the Porsche, one hip cocked to rest against the sleek side of the car. His tone had been almost casual, but every inch of bodybody radiated fury and hurt. His eyes were red, and a lit cigarette dangled from his mouth, calling attention to the slightly swollen split in his lip from where Aya had punched him the night before.

He took a deep drag and then caught the cigarette between his first two fingers, pulling it slowly away from his lips. The green button front shirt that he wore was half undone, and for the first time Aya noticed the mottled mass of bruises that decorated Yohji’s chest. He tensed and then forced his gaze away.

“Where I decide to go and when I choose to leave is no one’s business but my own,” he said, deliberately cold.

“Of course,” Yohji replied, still in that forced casual tone, “so much for being part of a team. The great Fujimiya Ran doesn’t need anybody, does he?”

“Don’t call me that,” Aya went totally stiff. “That name should never cross your lips. That isn’t who I am anymore. Not to you.”

“That’s never who you were to me,” he still leaned against the car, but suddenly his stance seemed far more dangerous that it had before. “You’re a good one to talk about lies, Ran. From the day I met you, you lied to me. Were you laughing behind your teeth when you confessed the truth?”

“I told you not to call me that,” without realizing it Aya had crossed the distance between them. His fists tangled in the front of Yohji’s shirt and he slammed the larger man against the driver side door of the car.

Yohji winced as Aya’s knuckles rammed into the bruises on his chest, but he didn’t let his cocky grin slide a hair. “It really doesn’t matter what I call you, now does it? It isn’t like you’re going to be around to hear me say it.”

Aya stared at him, hands clenching and unclenching around the fabric of his shirt. This close, he could smell the faint scent of alcohol that clung to Yohji’s lips, not much, just a hint, but mingled with the nearness it made him want to lean against Yohji and melt into his warmth.

Yohji leaned close to his ear, his whisper hot against Aya’s flesh. “You’ll never hear me call your name while you bury yourself inside of me, or while your fingers tease my cock until I’m nearly insane from wanting you.”

Aya jerked, angry with himself for the desire he felt welling up at Yohji’s words. He had to escape this, but when Yohji used that throaty purr in his ear, all he could think about was having the other man naked and at his mercy.

“No!” Aya pushed backward, the protest carrying like a shout. “No, Yohji. I can’t do this anymore. It has to end now.”

The grin was gone, wiped away in a surge of anger that blazed up like the crackling roar of a bonfire in dry leaves. Yohji didn’t let Aya retreat very far. One arm snaked out and his hand clasped like a vice around Aya’s wrist.

“I couldn’t stand by and let you die,” he cried, jerking Aya closer. “I won’t let you leave like this.”

“You don’t have a choice,” Aya replied, jabbing his elbow sharply into Yohji’s stomach and twisting out of his grasp when he loosed an exhalation of pain and doubled over.

It only took an instant for Yohji to recover, and when he straightened he dove at Aya, wrapping his arms tight around the other man’s waist and sending them both careening to the floor. He took advantage of his greater size and weight to pin Aya down, though he was panting slightly from the effort.

“You’re going to listen to me Aya, whether you want to or not,” Yohji said in a low voice. Omi still stood nearby, his eyes wide as he looked uncertainly between the two of them.

“There’s nothing that you have to say that I want to hear,” Aya replied stiffly, turning his head so he didn’t have to meet Yohji’s gaze.

“Like I said, whether you want to or not,” Yohji answered, staring down at the man beneath him with grim determination. “Before I let you leave here, I am going to tell you that…”

Aya slapped a hand over Yohji’s mouth, digging his fingertips tly tly into his cheek. “I told you that I don’t want to hear what you have to say. That’s the end of it,” he finished with a grunt as Yohji bit his hand hard enough to nearly break skin.

He took advantage of Yohji’s concentration on his hand to twist his hips and slither out from under the relentless blonde assassin, pulling his had free as the grip of Yohji’s teeth slackened. A few quick steps had him at the car door, one hand going for the handle while the other reached for the katana that leaned against the side of the Porsche.

Hearing steps behind him he flicked the blade free of the sheath and turned to point it threateningly. Yohji had moved faster than he’d thought though, and when he lifted the blade the tip sliced a line along Yohji’s cheek, just barely missing his eye. Bright red blood welled out of the cut, running down to stain Yohji’s shirt in dark smears.

Aya heard Omi’s gasp of shock, though he couldn’t tear his eyes away from what he’d just done. As Yohji’s fingers rose to assess the damage, Aya sprang into action again. He scooped the katana’s sheath off the ground where it had fallen and slammed the blade back inside.

As Omi hurried to Yohji’s side, he pulled off his shirt to use it to stem the flow of blood. Aya ripped open the door of the car and threw the katana in, his own body folding to follow. He yanked the door shut and locked it with frantic hands. He could barely get the key in the ignition, his hands shook so badly.

The car roared to life, and he sped away, leaving two wide-eyed assassins staring after him in shock. What had he done? Why the hell had he pulled the katana on Yohji? He could have killed him…

He drove in a mad rush, followed by the sounds of blaring horns and screeching tires as other drivers swerved to avoid colliding with him. He didn’t know where he was going, but he doubted he would find a place that was far enough away to erase the sight of Yohji’s terrified and shocked expression as the line of crimson ran down his cheek like tears of blood.