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Endless Dark	By : briarwolf Category: Weiß Kreuz > General Views: 2571 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Weiß Kreuz, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter 4 - Heart Worth Breaking

The wind that tossed strands of hair across his cheek sighed mournfully through the branches above his head. Bits of bark dug sharply into his back where he leaned against the tree, but he didn’t feel it. His entire being was focused on the figure that approached in the distance.

It could have been the middle of the night, dark as blindness, and he would have k tha that figure. Even so far away he felt as though he were being torn in two. With his eyes closed he could paint a perfect portrait, if he were deaf he would still know the sound of those footsteps.

Now. The word pulsed through his thoughts with each beat of his heart; it filled him with each breath that he drew into his lungs. His fingers curled, tight enough that his knuckles were white with the strain. He watched, silent but for the faint rasp of his breathing, as the figure stopped and knelt.

He waited, unmoving even as the sky began to darken and the breeze began to drive a chill into his skin. Were he to turn to ice where he stood, it still would not match the cold that filled his chest and threatened to consume his entire life.

Muscles drew tense as the distant figure rose, turning back the way he had come. The dying light drew bursts of red from his hair and was swallowed by the unrelieved black of his clothes. He walked slowly, his eyes fixed straight ahead as though there were nothing else in the world that could call his attention away from the effort of putting one foot in front of the other.

Now. Green eyes narrowed above the top of his sunglasses as Yohji pushed away from the tree. His steps were quick as he moved from shadow to shadow, staying close enough to keep Aya in his sight. The hem of his long, dark coat fluttered around his ankles and slowly, deliberately, he drew his gloves over his hands as he followed the other man into the growing darkness.

Fingertips traced lightly over the fine line of the scar on his cheek, up and down, over and over again as he stared at the closed door on the other side of the street. Even through the gloves he could feel the changed texture of the skin under his fingers, tight and hard like the sensation that gripped his chest when he thought of Aya inside.

He inhaled, a long shaky breath, the scents of the city at night teasing at bits of memory he would rather have left buried. That night, that first night, it had been raining, heavy drops cold and slick against his skin.

The pavement in front of him was littered with the ends of cigarettes, and his hand had squeezed tight around the now empty pack, crushing it ruthlessly as the last one dangled from his lips.

A sound had caused him to look up, another warm tear tracking down his face in sharp contrast to the chill of his skin. Aya had stood in frof hof him, blurred by the rain and the smoke from Yohji’s cigarette. His face was unreadable, as usual, but in the depths of his violet eyes there was something that Yohji didn’t want to see; it looked a lot like pity.

“I suppose you’re happy now,” Yohji had said, too numb to muster the heat of anger in his words. “I killed her, like you wanted.”

The soft sound of laughter pulled Yohji back to the present, and he was surprised to realize that the high giggle he heard had slipped through his lips. It was funny though, he thought as the soft laugh continued to drift into the silence, fingers frozen on his cheek. In a way, they were even now. Aya had helped Yohji kill what pre precious to him, and now Yohji had done the same.

Suddenly, his laughter died and his fingers started moving again, up and down, rubbing across the remembered hurt that lingered along that sharp line. No, they weren’t even. Not yet. He stepped out of the shadows and crossed the street, lips curled in a twisted mockery of a loving smile.

Aya gasped, jerking upright in a tangle of sweat soaked sheets. He hugged his arms around his chest, feeling the tremors that danced across his skin receed as the dream faded. Slowly, he straightened, dropping his arms loose at his sides and shifting to sit on the edge of the bed.

He lowered his head, dragging a hand through his hair as his breathing slowed. His nightmares had grown less frequent over the weeks, but this dream had been nothing like some of the others.

He’d walked into a room, dressed for a mission, only to find Yohji sitting in a chair in the corner. Aya had whirled to leave, but the door was gone.

“Abyssian,” Yohji’s voice had been soft, and Aya had glanced back despite himself. “I’m sorry.”

Yohji had stood then, and rushed toward Aya. Without even realizing it, Aya had turned to face Yohji with his katana in his hands, and Yohji had thrust himself on the blade, gasping as the steel slid into his chest, blood darkening the shine of the metal. Yohji’s hands had clutched at the wound for a moment before his blood stained fingers had reached out to ghost across Aya’s cheek, a soft smile on his lips. At his touch sharp pain had slid through Aya's chest, and when he looked down a mirror of his katana was clenched in Yohji's hand and thrust through his own chest.

Aya shook his head sharply, pushing the dream to the back of his thoughts. He stood and started toward the tiny kitchen, knowing it would be some time before he would be able to fall asleep again. A soft sound caught his attention, but his reaction didn’t come fast enough to save him.

With a hiss, the wire wrapped tight around him, clamping down around the bare skin of his torso and pinning his arms against his sides. He sucked in a breath, pulling his muscles tight as if to keep his skin away from the wire. Yohji moved into his field of view and Aya pinned him with an angry violet glare.

“Yohji,” he began, stopping as Yohji lifted and finger and waved it at him, green eyes narrowed and glittering dangerously.

“Oh, no Aya,” he whispered, slowly walking closer. “Your words aren't what I want now.”

Yohji circled Aya, steps slow and deliberate, fingers careful on the wire that lay dangerously tight across Aya's chest. He paused and licked his lips before speaking.

“I can't live without you,” his voice was a harsh whisper, his eyes fixed over Aya's shoulder as he moved closer. “I don't sleep. In my bed I breathe you, taste you. I hate you.”

The wires tightened, nearly to the point of slicing into Aya's skin, and he heard Yohji laugh softly. He was so close now that Aya could feel Yohji's breath on his cheek, smell the stale scent of cigarettes that clung to his skin. Yohji leaned toward Aya, sliding his tongue up the side of Aya's neck.

“I knew, you know,” his tone was almost conversational, his lips brushing against Aya's ear. “I knew you'd never forgive me this, even though you betrayed me in the same way I betrayed you. You forced me to save me from myself. You made me kill Asuka. Her blood is on your hands just as surely as it's on mine.”

He drew back, cocking his head to one side and studying Aya, a faint smile curling his lips. Aya glared back, furious that Yohji thought he could compare his sister with that woman from Scherient. Aya-chan had not been trying to kill them. She had not even had that chance to live her life.

“It isn't the same,” Aya said, coldness of his tone a sharp contrast with the heat in his eyes.

“Ah, but it is,” Yohji hissed, a flick of his fingers sending a coil of wire around Aya's throat and drawing it so tight that Aya gagged, unable to draw air into his lungs. He swallowed hard when the pressure was loosened a few seconds later, gasping roughly. “You think everything is different when it happens to you, but it isn't.”

Yohji drew close to Aya again, fingers of one hand drawing a long line down Aya's chest, then rising again to hover over his heart. He traced the wires that crossed Aya's torso, pressing their sharpness into Aya's skin. He lowered his lips toward Aya's, and Aya turned his head away, closing his eyes. Yohji laughed and placed a light kiss on Aya's temple, uncoiling the wire from around Aya's throat.

“You aren't the only one who hurts,” he whispered, lips still pressed to skin as he jerked the wires tight, lines of blood blossoming under the glittering strands.

Aya bit back a gasp, the sharp sting making him flinch involuntarily, pressing the wires deeper into the wounds. With an effort of will he stilled, and he felt Yohji smile against his temple before taking a step backwards. Yohji lifted his free hand, teeth closing on the tip of one of the fingers of his gloves. He pulled his hand out of the thick, protective fabric, letting the glove fall to the floor.

He flexed his fingers, turning his hand over to study it in the dim light of the room. He cupped his palm around Aya's cheek, then let his hand slide downward. His touch was delicate down the column of Aya's throat, gentle as it passed over the curve of his shoulder. His fingers crossed Aya's chest and slipped down his stomach.

Aya remained motionless as Yohji's touch increased the sting of the wires, breathing fast and shallow. Yohji smiled, hand lingering above the waist of the pants Aya wore. Aya could feel warm threads of blood trickling over his skin, the twitch of a muscle at the oddly ticklish sensation breaking through his control.

Yohji drew his hand back and held it up, a strange half-smile on his lips as he stared at fingers painted dark with streaks and smears of Aya's blood.
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Endless Dark