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Come As You Are	By : animegher Category: Weiß Kreuz > General Views: 6971 -:- 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
- 4
- 5
- 6
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Weiss Kruez and Koyasu Takehito, happy fun legal

blather. Oh yeah, and sex. ^.^
This chapter is dedicated to TougaKiryuukun who cared enough to poke me on AIM. If it wasn’t for her, this chapter would have been a looooong time in coming, so let’s all thank her.
It was so damn bizarre Ken thought he might be physically ill. He was sitting next to Omi across the table from his grandfather and hired muscle at booth in the coffee shop down the street. There had been nothing more than a courtesy introduction of names even though Ken was sure the decrepit bastard already knew who he was before a waitress came. They all had ordered coffee, well, except for Omi, who had a cup so full of sugar and whipped cream it didn’t even count as coffee anymore. They had to keep up appearances that this was just a nice family reunion instead of ex-assassins meeting up with the senior member of the Takatoris, their mortal enemy and former employer. Ken supposed that assuming all of those psychotic siblings and father had been the only ones had been a bit naive. He glared at the old man, wishing that he would die from something already while stylish jazz played on the speakers over their head.

"The last time I saw you, you were barely even walking," the Takatori sighed out finally, shaking his head at Omi’s face as if wondering where the years had gone. Like he was any other grandfather, just a touch more negligent than the rest. Except Ken could count on the fact that this wasn’t some nostalgic meeting the man wanted before he died. Takatoris weren’t that type of breed. There was some sort of motive underneath it all, even Ken could see that. Now, if Omi actually noticed this would be an entirely different matter.

"No, I remember meeting you at one of father’s dinner parties when I was older than that," Omi corrected with a smile, looking so happy and innocent that it only made Ken hate the grandpa even more for taking advantage of his familial relation. Omi probably just wanted to finally get to know one of his kin personally, and this old fox was going to…do…something really bad to his Omi. That was why Ken had refused to let the boy go alone with the man, forcing them to wait while he hurriedly closed the flower shop. They had walked in here at Omi’s suggestion while Ken walked between the blonde and the taller asshole in the suit, glaring the whole time.

"Really?" the man asked, scratching his chin as he obviously tried reminiscing back that far himself. "Amazing, I wouldn’t expect less of a Takatori. You can recall that long ago?" Grandfather beamed it at Omi like he had the right to be proud after leaving Omi to survive by himself, ending up killing people when he could have done something different. Omi was smart, he was going to college, and he was finally living a normal life. Ken wasn’t about to let anyone mess that up, not after all they had been through. Omi had likely suffered the worst of all, but he was still able to smile and act so cheerful all day long.

"Of course I do. It was the night I was kidnapped. Do you recall that?" Omi asked in a sweet, saccharine voice that poorly hid the bitterness underneath that statement. Ken didn’t say anything, but he did a victory dance inside as Omi scored one. He greedily glanced back to the grandfather’s face, waiting for the reaction. When Omi was angry, he was good- he just usually never chose to be mean. Ken was so fucking pleased with his little Omi that it was hard not to hug him then. He hadn’t dropped the gay bomb yet either, even though it had to be blaringly apparent from Ken’s over protectiveness, so he was going to try to be tactful about it.

The older Takatori’s silence said it all. Omi had told Ken all about the horrifying time he had spent with the kidnappers, listening in silence as he heard his family tell the men off; that they didn’t care about the boy. They hadn’t paid, hadn’t even tried to negotiate for their son’s life, but Omi had survived and was better off than he could have ever been with a Takatori family. Ken didn’t like to think on the possibility, if Omi had turned out at all like those insane brothers they had the pleasure of killing long ago.

"Did you tell them not to pay the ransom?" Omi asked softly, his voice barely controlled. Ken gritted his teeth to keep himself quiet, wanting to shake the answer out of the old man as he drew a breath and took an authoritative calm. The hired muscle just took a sip from his coffee, obviously paid enough to not give a damn about what was going on in front of him.

"I’m not here to talk about old times," dear ole fucking Grandpa answered in a cold voice, dropping the pretense of a happy reunion. Ken took Omi’s hand on the seat next to him then, letting the boy squeeze it as tightly as he wanted without even grimacing. There was the slight shimmer of tears in Omi’s eyes, but he wasn’t crying. He was so strong, even though he didn’t seem like it at first; able to take the fact that his own grandfather had ordered his family to abandon him.

"There’s nothing to hide. Kritiker has almost completely fallen apart. We’ve lost any main figurehead and there’s so many teams scattered around that it’s impossible to keep track of," the old man gave the rather dismal report easily. There wasn’t any reason to beat around the bush. There was a favor waiting to be asked underneath this sob story that Ken frankly didn’t give a fuck about. He was glad to hear that Kritiker was about to go down the drain. Good riddance to a place that had done a lot more harm than good in the end. He hadn’t met one fellow agent that wasn’t fucked up in the head, humanity a nice little word to consider when you laid awake at night between the nightmares. Both Ken and Omi stared back at the man in complete silence, sympathy the last thing in their minds.

"You don’t understand. When Weiss was active, the crime rate in Tokyo was at an all-time low. It’s almost doubled in the past two years since Kritiker has been breaking down," the old man was very good, bringing in statistics to help his argument. Except Ken doubted that they had ever made that much of a difference, nor that Kritiker’s influence on the crime world had been so grand scale. They had killed some pretty bad guys, but not enough. Never enough. There were always people, desperate and ready to do anything for whatever reason; others just taking delight in someone’s pain. They could never defeat all the common criminals this town gave birth to each day. Ken had a hard time not laughing in the old man’s face for considering himself to be so influential, so important in this huge world. He still hadn’t stated what he had actually come here for yet, and that made Ken wonder how big it was going to be if he had to lay down such a story first.

"We’re becoming the hunted now. We can’t keep the enemy scared with constant attacks, we’re barely keeping what territory we have left," the Takatori tried one last time, starting to sound a little hopeless at the end. Ken was surprised that he hadn’t already given up. They had left Kritiker for a reason, had moved and hidden records; hell, Omi had spent days on the computer clearing away paper trails and other such that could be linked to them. They had gone into hiding for a reason, Ken had hung up the telephone as hint to leave them alone, and here this Takatori still thought they might have wanted to willing go back to work.

"I don’t see how this concerns me," Omi finally answered, meeting his grandfather straight in the eye with a determined expression. Ken could tell exactly what the boy was thinking right now: damned if I’m going to cry in front of this bastard. Well, sorta something like that, though Ken doubted there would be as much cursing.

"Why should we even care about what happens to Kritiker?" Ken finally broke in, not able to stay completely silent. He couldn’t stand to see this guy try to work over Omi with his sad pile of lies, knowing that Omi just might buy into it because he was so fucking nice, naïve and stilling longing for a real family bond. They had formed their own little family, with Aya and Yohji playing dysfunctional parents while Ken and Omi lived a much more carefree existence. Except now, he could suddenly understand why Yohji wanted to propose to Aya. Ken maybe be Omi’s boyfriend, was going to be there for him without it even needing to be said, but other than that there wasn’t anything solid between them. Ken loved Omi and said it all the time, but he wished there was more than just the grip he had on the boy’s hand to comfort him right now. He’d punch the shitty grandpa right out of his chair if he wasn’t certain Omi would start whining about respect for the elderly and such, no matter what kind of cold-hearted bastard this Takatori turned out to be.

"They could come looking for you next, this nice little home Weiss has formed. Operatives have been murdered left and right, and the enemy doesn’t know you’ve so conveniently ‘quit,’" the old man made it sound like a personal threat that he could have some hand in. Ken would like to see them try. Hell, all he’d have to do is point and Aya would be on them like a rabid dog. When they had the occasional snubbed boyfriend or drunken husband that started causing a ruckus in the store, Ken saved them for Aya to deal with. He knew Aya always had stress boiling underneath the semi-emotionless exterior and had a great deal of fun frightening the misbehaving customers so badly they never came back. If Ken so much as mentioned Kritiker or that very special hot button for Aya- Takatori- he was sure they’d get to see a brutal bloodbath a la Abyssinian. And that was just one of them, Omi probably the sanest out of them all.

"They must not have been very good," Ken grumbled, ignoring the glares the old man and his stereotypical guard sent him. Omi smirked at that, very slightly as he rested his elbows on the table and visibly gathered himself up. Ken was happy he could cheer Omi up, even if it was for just a split-second during this family reunion from hell. It wasn’t like he had heard of there being any other kind, shuddering as he remembered Aya-chan and her boyfriend. He really hoped they were dead by now, regardless of how much that would hurt Aya. Ken could put up with a few months of Aya being depressed much better than one week with that little sister turned bitch. She had been so cute at one time.

"What do you want?" Omi finally sighed, seeming very tired and much older than usual. He actually looked every bit of nineteen right now, jaded and beaten down as he stared at the fluffy whirl of the whipped cream in front of him. Ken squeezed the soft, smaller hand in reassurance, trying to smile like nothing was wrong when Omi glanced at him. They could just go home right now if Omi wanted to, and he wouldn’t let this antique jerk-off stop them. Grandpa Takatori had already successfully ruined the entire day.

"I need you to come back to Kritiker and take over Persia’s position."

Ken stared. Omi blinked. The bodyguard sipped loudly on his coffee.

* * *
Yohji had never felt more empty and content at the same time, so overloaded that all his senses had gone numb instead. His face hurt from crying, from sobbing out tears that he had kept in for…fuck, years. The thought of Aya leaving had a way of doing that to a man. He felt like a wrung-out towel, the residual fear refusing to clear completely as he held onto Aya. He was painfully reminded each time that slightly tingly ache below his bladder shot up his spine, a knife in his back each time he thought about it. He couldn’t get over how stupid he had been, knew he deserved to be punished…and yet that petty part of him was delighted that Aya had tried to take all the blame, making a resolution so much easier. They hadn’t really talked anything out, but that didn’t really matter. Yohji didn’t have the strength to argue how goddamn typical it was that Aya had put himself up on the cross; finally able to simple breathe now that he was holding onto the other man. The tears were gone, his body simply not having enough moisture to keep going, but emotion lingered. He had almost lost the chance to come home, to his own bed and lover.

God, Aya had really meant those words despite how they had been delivered. Yohji could easily overlook that, pressing his cheek up against Aya’s, breathing in his hair and the strawberry shampoo he had finally managed to talk the man into. It was all solid enough proof that everything was going to be okay. Aya’s own body heat as the man pressed himself up chest to chest with him in the summer swelter of the bedroom was almost uncomfortable, but it drove off the icy chill that was trying to take root in Yohji’s heart. Even if he had told Aya just as much as he knew about what had happened last night, something still wasn’t quite right between them. To have Aya being so sweet to him, even though Aya probably felt responsible for this whole mess, only intensified Yohji’s own guilt. He should have been stronger, smarter…sober.

Aya’s hands tightened on his back as if he’d been speaking aloud, sniffing back lingering tears and pressing his face further into the curve of Yohji’s shoulder. Lying sideways like this on the bed made Aya seem so much taller than himself right now, for once seeming so much more confident and sure of what was going to happen next. Yohji wasn’t used to uncertainty- he had never once realized just how big of slut he could be. He had gone back to antonymous sex so quickly that he should be shot. Yohji couldn’t help himself, knowing that this wasn’t really the time, but kissed Aya softly on the temple anyway. He needed to do this right now, needed to make sure that everything was okay between them…and because he felt so damn empty on the inside. Maybe it was because there was some stranger wandering around in Tokyo boasting to his buddies about what had happened last night between him and some drunken bastard, maybe it was the bruising punishment that had shifted his bladder around until it felt like he had a hole drilled up through him. Either way, he felt like the biggest asshole on the face of the planet, not even close to properly apologizing to Aya yet. That just might take years.

"Thank you, Aya," Yohji finally said, meaning it for more than just Aya admitted aloud that he loved him, for allowing him to come crawling back without too many questions being asked. Aya truly was special, and Yohji was damn fortunate for things to work out so well. Not just what he had done last night, but when Yohji thought about it, he was probably lucky that he hadn’t been killed in his sleep back in that shitty, smelly hotel room. He was a real fucking idiot blessed with a run of good luck- except he wouldn’t be needing it anymore. Yohji had learned a very, very hard lesson this morning, and wasn’t going to run around without a second thought to his future. It was with Aya-it had to be; just a few hours ago, Yohji had been face first with the small hell his life became without the man.

There wasn’t an answer immediately, at least not in words. Aya shifted onto his chest, pressing full and yielding lips against his own; long, cool hair feeling as substantial as a hand on the side of his face. Yohji felt safe instead of captured, so high-strung at this point that he probably would have killed anything else other than Aya. He was calmer now, no longer intent on choking Yohji with his tongue as he kissed him deeply, each movement waiting on his reaction. Yohji wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry over Aya treating him so carefully, complimented and insulted at the same time…What would he do if he lost the constant challenge of figuring out each contradiction Aya managed to throw at him, such a stubborn bastard so ready to give in? Yohji smiled despite all the surplus sorrow in his heart, flattening his hands out above Aya’s hips and slowly sliding palms up underneath the man’s shirt. Clothing was too much right now, not that Yohji had much to begin with himself, as he helped Aya pop his head and arms out of the holes and toss the t-shirt to the side. He had to pause in the middle of working at Aya’s zipper to kiss temptingly pliant lips, needed to feel Aya’s skin against his own as he swirled his tongue into that peculiar concave in the roof of Aya’s mouth. Yohji was getting nervous for some reason, pressing himself up hard against Aya’s own unique body to remind himself just whom he was with. Aya already had Yohji’s belt undone and paused in pushing the jeans down his hips, deliberately brushing knuckles against his thighs as if to assure him that these were his hands. Yohji would always know Aya’s, one knuckle pressed in further than the rest from when his fingers had been broken. He couldn’t forget something like that.

Yohji didn’t deserve someone like Aya, not when he was showing such sensitivity to such a damned idiot. He couldn’t help but be struck by the irony that he had worked so damn hard to get Aya to move in here in the first place, had taken months just to make sure Aya would actually understand what it would mean- and he almost managed to ruin in all in under a night. Aya should be throwing him out the front door with the rest of his personal belongings, but instead the man was slowly removing his own pants, darkened violet eyes locked on his own for the slightest sign that Yohji was uncomfortable with man wriggling out of his jeans on top of him. For once, Yohji just wanted Aya to lead tonight, feeling…timid and wretched. He simply wanted to be here.

"Aya, I’m-…" Yohji started to apologize again when they were both naked, Aya’s face mere inches away from his own.

Aya cut him off with a soft hush, his deep violet eyes telling Yohji that he didn’t need to say anything at all. He leaned down, long hair tickling Yohji’s chest as Aya pressed a kiss on top of the sore mark underneath his jugular. Another one, slightly stronger now on another one of the hickeys coming in on his neck. Yohji didn’t even have time to ask before he felt the pinch of teeth, not enough to break the skin but close. Aya suckled fiercely at the spot he’d attached his mouth, obviously trying to cover up some of the bruises from last night with ones of his own. Yohji wouldn’t mind if they were from Aya, his palm running along the warm, smooth length of the other man’s arm. No more words were necessary, just the feeling of Aya’s hardening erection on his stomach as his own stomach thrilled in response. He hadn’t been this nervous since the first time he had ever wound up in the same bed as Aya with intercourse on the horizon. Just how long ago had that really been?

Yohji suddenly was so damned scared that he didn’t know what to do, could only freeze up with all that usual self-confidence dried up like the buzz from last night. He was so used to being fully in control, at the front of the steering wheel, always on top, and now…it was like he’d lost his center of balance. He wanted to have Aya, to be with him in the most physical and intimate of ways, but…didn’t have a clue to what he was supposed to do anymore. He had screwed up too badly last night to trust his instincts any more. That doubt and hesitation was going to drive him further away from Aya than the actual act that had led to this all in the first place. He couldn’t deal with that, refused to give things the chance to go terribly wrong as they tended to do. Yohji ran his hand through Aya’s hair, stroking it while Aya added another set of teeth to his neck. It was better than last night’s John Doe’s, but it still vaguely hurt as Aya sucked hard on already bruised skin. A hand slipped in between them, Aya secreting down to touch his stiffening penis. He had very smooth hands, his fingers electric as they cupped his balls gently. Yohji loved a hand job from Aya, magnificently distracted from the soreness in his groin and the anxiety in his heart.

"Yohji," Aya’s soft but deep voice broke through his silent worry like a gunshot, two violet eyes fixing on him as the man pulled himself away from Yohji’s neck. That pale face was slightly flushed from arousal, just a slight red tint the top of his cheeks that Yohji adored. How he could have ever gotten drunk enough to possibly risk his precious relationship with the man?! He didn’t know what sort of expression he must be wearing, but Aya gave him a small reassuring smile that was all the more important because of its rareness. After screaming that he loved Yohji, Aya didn’t seem inclined to say anymore but his expression and eyes told him what the purple-haired man was thinking. Don’t worry, I’m here, everything’s going to be fine, you obsessive bastard, Yohji added on the last part for himself as he nodded to Aya in answer, partly to spur Aya on. They had to keep moving, because if Yohji was given a split second to start thinking, he was going to be too depressed to have sex.

Aya had to let off Yohji, pull himself away to crawled over to the side of the mattress and pulled out the half-empty tube of lubrication from the bed stand. There was nothing but the hot summer air broken by the slight breeze Aya was making as moved around. Yohji stared up at the ceiling, liking their simple white stucco so much that-he should really start asking himself why he was staring upward like a fucking retard instead of looking at the man he loved! He sat up to reach out and catch Aya with a hand on the side of his face before anything else happened, kissing him as deeply and passionately as possible. Words were a very tricky and unnecessary thing right now, actions more than enough between them. When their lips parted, Yohji expected Aya to immediately open up the lube, barely able to restrain himself and not giving a damn if it was quick or not. He wanted Aya now…but, Yohji didn’t find it entirely abhorrent when Aya kissed a trail down the side of his neck and collarbone, zigzagging down his chest with his tongue, alongside his navel until Aya’s face was down at his groin.

Yohji had to stare then, embarrassed by his erection bobbing around for the first time in front of Aya, so close to his nose…It wasn’t like he hadn’t had hundreds, thousands little fantasies of Aya finally agreeing to giving him a blowjob, but that was quite different from the real thing. Aya just didn’t have the sort of face that was supposed to be around a twitching, throbbing erection with those fine, long eyelashes and aristocratic jaw. Yohji would damn well know exactly how Aya’s face looked after countless nights of drawing it- and had gotten very good at imagining it exactly where Aya was now. He clenched his teeth, trying not to say anything but wondering if Aya was actually, just maybe, going to put his mouth on something below Yohji’s waistline. Long, increasingly tangled hair slithered down his hips as Aya hesitated above his groin as if trying to figure out which part of the meal to start on. He skipped over his pubic hair to place lush, red lips over his own erection, the sudden heat and wetness enough to take Yohji’s breath away. Once Aya decided to do something, there wasn’t the slightest bit of uncertainty as the man started to gently suck on the sensitive tip of his penis. It was suddenly a struggle just to stay still for it, Yohji biting his lip to keep from making a noise, from giving in to the wavering need to break apart completely from the rush of sensations. His stomach tried to escape his body through his throat, getting stuck in the small passage as his toes curled up in the sheets. Aya swirled his tongue around, his mouth forming a wonderful suction as he slowly started to take Yohji down his throat.

He couldn’t think, couldn’t appreciate how important this was, and could barely keep himself from thrusting up hard and fast through Aya’s skull. He suddenly realized Aya had already slipped a well-lube finger up inside of him, so smooth and gradual that he hadn’t even noticed. Yohji helplessly writhed about on the sheets for a moment, broken skin burning and screaming in contrast to the cool and greasy digit easily fitting inside him. He tried not to self-destruct then and there, groaning out Aya’s name when he could no longer stay silent. Still, it wasn’t as bad as he had imagined, at least, nothing compared to what he must have already gone through, blackout or not. A finger wasn’t the same as a penis, and actually wasn’t too bad when a second one was added with more than its fair share of lube. In fact, it was very good as Yohji twisted his hips, finding a better angle as Aya unhurriedly worked his ass and dick at the same time. An invasive, filling pressure from behind and a velvet, wet orifice to thrust forward into. He couldn’t believe that Aya even had a gag reflex as deep throated like an old pro-and sadly enough, was.

Yohji might have moaned out Aya’s name, he wasn’t really sure anymore. He realized he had his hand in Aya’s hair yet again, unable to let go of silken knots and snarls as he hung on. It was getting to be too much, Yohji unable to control his breathing as he body clenched up with the shiver of pain Aya’s knuckle was sending up his back with every twist and push. Strange how that little burst of discomfort made everything else feel so good, overwhelming Yohji as Aya took up all of his senses. He couldn’t hold on any longer, couldn’t contain himself for one more second. It still felt good, too good, so much that Yohji forgot how to speak. He didn’t even have the chance to warn Aya, just shuddered deeply before he came inside Aya’s mouth with enough strength to take his vision. Hearing, smell, self-awareness all faded out like the unnecessary things that they were as Yohji felt himself fall back down limply on the sheets, Aya still sucking him complete dry. He might have lost consciousness; he might have just been too exhausted to keep track of everything. Either way, everything finally felt right as Yohji relaxed enough to close his eyes and drift for a while.

The vaguely tickling sensation of Aya washing him clean with a warm, rough tongue kept Yohji from falling asleep after such a powerful climax. It was probably one of the first times he had orgasmed before Aya, hollow for some reason when the man pulled his fingers out from the comfortable space they had created inside him despite all the aches and pains. It had be a nice, new stimulation that Yohji hadn’t ever considered before, mainly because Aya had just never seemed like he wanted to try. And now…Aya shifted a penis going rapidly flaccid, using his mouth to get each and every bit of sperm that he couldn’t swallow. Yohji had to open his eyes then, watching as Aya licked his crotch spotless while his own heart shaped face was splattered with a few beads of white. Yohji wondered then if it was possible to die from too much pleasure, sure he must have died and gone to heaven. The sharp sting of Aya nipping at the inside of his thigh like a cat that had been purring contentedly a moment ago suddenly attacking the hand that was petting it jerked Yohji back to focus fully on Aya instead of fainting in the middle of this, summer heat and happiness too much to process right now.

"You’re mine," Aya unexpectedly hissed, fingers tightening on his leg. "I love you," Aya made it very clear, following up that fiercely possessive statement with a gentle kiss on the slightly less tan skin below his bellybutton. Yohji nodded helplessly even though Aya didn’t see it. If he wanted to own him, Yohji would wear a collar around all day just to make sure people would know whom he belonged to if he decided to stray again. With that straightened out between them, Aya leaned back to wipe his own chin clean before kissing Yohji on the lips. He was spent, exhausted and ready to either cry or pass out with jiz all over his stomach, so damn content that he must have done something wrong. Yohji shook his head at himself inside, kissing Aya back deeply on the outside. They were going to be okay. Everything had worked out so wonderfully, Yohji back under the only person in the world that really mattered. Aya was his lover, was his family, and Yohji had a hard time not jumping up to grab the ring from where he’d hidden it and propose to Aya right then.

There was nothing else to say when Aya let their lips part, a small patch of skin sticking together before their mouths snapped back. Yohji sighed in relief, a hand on the back of Aya’s arm as he assumed they were finished. There was the sound of Aya recapping the lube before the man settled back down between his legs, running his hands up and over Yohji’s knees, to his hips, and back down again. Yohji had the sense of mind to start worrying, his gut falling out before something warm, slippery, and much bigger than fingers pressed up against his anus. Yohji surprised himself when he didn’t try scrambling off the bed, didn’t even make a peep as his stomach turned to ice and little slivers of it stabbed up into his chest. He supposed this must be something like Aya’s panic attacks, biting on his own tongue to keep himself from whimpering. Yohji didn’t understand the fear, unbased because this was Aya, but now instinctual to want to try and escape. He couldn’t do that, fisting the sheets up underneath himself and demanding that his body stop trembling.

"I love you," Yohji managed between gritted teeth, because it seemed like the right thing to say when Aya started to push his way in, moving his mouth back up to his neck to suck there. It hurt then, just like he expected, an already broken ring of skin and muscle that had never been spread so wide before stretched even further…but Aya was being so damn gentle about it. Just easing on in as if he was meant to be there, continuing to go impossibly deep when Yohji thought he should be filled to bursting. It was the first time Aya had ever been on top, had ever shown any desire in wanting to fuck Yohji- just be fucked since Aya had never really explored sex before. At least, not with Yohji, nothing this extremely different. The purple-haired man had always seemed so uncomfortable about it, but right now he was still pushing up and in, making Yohji tremble each time. He wouldn’t have been able to tell Aya to stop, even if he could have formed that coherent thought right now. He couldn’t help squirming around, impaled on Aya as he twisted in an effort to adjust for Aya’s girth. They had already gone too far for him to do anything other than just be caught up in the moment.

Aya braced his hands on either side of his shoulders, suddenly shivering, unmoving, and unable to do anything more than pant hotly against his ear. They were frozen together, both simply flooded with sensation. Then, Aya started to move steady and measured, while Yohji grunted and bit his lip bloody. He knew that Aya would stop if he started screaming in agony, even if the tearing from last night felt like it was being ripped open even further. Yohji did his best to enjoy it, bringing his knees up to spread for it and hopefully ease the way as Aya started to thrust into him. It hurt, but Aya had stretched him for it, enough that muscles that had no right spreading out adjusted soon enough. Yohji had to wonder how the fuck Aya could enjoy this, suddenly feeling like a royal ass for making love until Aya was sore. Of course he’d be hurting after this, Yohji torn between needing to take the biggest piss of his life and arching his back until his spine broke. This was nothing but pure-

-stars exploding behind his eyeballs. Yohji jolted and cried out when Aya hit the right spot, feeling arousal and desire wash over him anew. Aya was in all the way to the hilt, balls slapping up against sensitive skin. It became faster, the sensation of Aya sliding in and out almost as good as him slamming up against Yohji’s prostate nearly every time. He heard Aya beginning to moan, hot and overpowering, burning Yohji up alive until he couldn’t even think anymore. He was just simply alive as Aya screwed him into the mattress, both of them crying out each other’s names over and over again.

Absolutely fucking perfect.

Aya exploded inside him, hot sperm shooting up through intestines until Yohji felt it on the bottom of his stomach. He screamed out his pleasure wordlessly before collapsing on top of Yohji, a hot and sticky weight that he wrapped both arms around. He kept Aya there against him, still inside and unbelievably warm despite the cooling passion. Yohji did lose consciousness after that, not completely unaware but distant and numb as his ears rung and breathing slowed. He stared stupidly at Aya’s face, the sweat beading down the side of his excruciatingly handsome face. The small, barely visible scar slashing through Aya’s eyebrow that Yohji now found to be incredibly sexy was very prominent right now for some reason. He could have gone to sleep then, wanting to stay dirty and sweaty and with Aya-honestly, just didn’t want to separate long enough to take a shower. Aya pulled out nonetheless, allowing lube and semen to ooze uncomfortably down hypersensitive skin to stain the bed sheets under him. He didn’t care, didn’t even want to move for the next couple of years as he was mesmerized by Aya’s lips. The man licked them once before mouthing something so softly that Yohji couldn’t even make it out. It was almost cute to see the man’s face scrunch up in panic before speaking again, this time in full volume.

"Yohji, there’s…there’s blood on my dick," Aya whispered incredulously.

* * *
"I can’t believe that! What an asshole! Are you okay, Omi?" Ken raged the second they were back in the safety of their own home, unable to keep himself from pacing into the living room and starting a nice run around the coffee table. Just where did that old geezer get off, first brushing aside the reunion between him and Omi and then moving right along to ask him to become Persia?! When did he even get the impression that they would have the slightest interest in going back to murdering people? Ken still lay awake on some nights, the smell of fresh blood in his nose and the screams of his victim, his heart pounding and his breathing fast, adrenaline spiking at the memory. Ken wouldn’t deny that sometimes he missed the rush, like idiots that skydived; but that was it. Omi certainly didn’t have the necessary degree of coldness and uncaring bastard to be Persia. How did that Takatori fuck believe that a group of active assassins would take missions from a kid with big blue eyes and a face that still looked like he was twelve? Omi would probably call all the operatives ‘blahblah-kun’ too.

Omi just nodded an answer as he sat down on the couch, eyes not really focused on the room right now. Silence was very bad with the kid, and Ken could also read that face like a book. Omi was actually thinking about what his grandfather had said, giving it a second more than it deserved. Sure, that decomposing asshole might be Omi’s only remaining family, but he had been fine and smiling this morning when he didn’t think he had anyone. Since his grandfather had turned out to be such a selfish bastard, what would be the big difference in just ignoring his existence? Apparently the man had been doing the same with Omi up until he finally had a need for the boy. Ken shook his head, wishing he could have somehow gotten a moment alone with gramps to tell him exactly what would happen if he tried to

"You’re not actually considering it," Ken said at last, hating himself for needing to make sure. He just didn’t like the look in Omi’s eyes, and that feeling didn’t change when the boy finally looked up to meet him in the face. Omi wasn’t smiling, that usual cheerfulness gone as a very serious expression took over, one that Ken almost wanted to smack right off

"Well-…"

"What the fuck?! I can’t believe this! You are, aren’t you?" Ken cut him off the second that neutral answer came out. It should have been ‘no fucking way,’ or something close, not some sort of maybe. Wasn’t Omi the one that had been preaching about fresh starts and making amends for what they had done? Hadn’t Omi suggested they all live together and have a normal life after the last grand showdown when Aya and Yohji had started bringing in cardboard boxes to move out? They had made a family here, as fucked up as it was, all of them brothers in a loose sense of the word, and Omi was sitting here thinking about giving it all up. It was as if that Takatori had said Omi had won a first-class cruise around the world instead of offering the position to an underground organization of killers. He didn’t know which was crazier- the old, dried-out shit even proposing such to Omi, or the fact that the blonde just might take him up on it.

"No, Ken. Calm down," Omi ordered tiredly while Ken just glared, not about to calm down. He didn’t say anything more; pretty sure that Omi would already know what he wanted to say. Ken tried to put it in his eyes, tried to force the boy to realize just how crazy he had sounded with that damn ‘well.’ Just forget about it. Nothing is going to change. Ken didn’t care if everyday was dull and boring, if Fridays and weekends were the only thing he could really look forward to beyond the few nights he and Yohji went out drinking. It was monotone, typical life, and Ken loved it. He thought Omi had too.

"I just thought for a second that maybe I could make a difference-…" Omi began to explain himself, still so naïve that Ken was stunned. He knew Omi best of all, and it was still astounding how damn innocent the kid could be sometimes. This was Kritiker, not some sort of school that he could change by becoming principal. Omi wanted this to be a damn Hallmark after-school where he changed assassins into outstanding citizens that opened doors for people and helped old ladies across the street. How he could stay so unsullied despite all the blood on his hands was beyond Ken, but how Omi could even think of going back to that sort of job was outright ridiculous.

"Oh, give me a fucking break," he snapped out, quite sick of this argument already. This was their life and he wasn’t about to let Omi ruin his.

"-…but then I realized there’s no way to change a group like that. Kritiker deserves this, and we can protect ourselves just fine," Omi continued on around Ken’s objection, his calm words making Ken feel like an ass. He let out a breath, effectively stopped in mid-tirade as he had to run a hand through his hair and think up the appropriate apology for this. He paced once more around the coffee table, but this time it was to circle around to the couch and sit down next to Omi. Ken put an arm around the boy’s shoulder, forcing the stiff, shorter body to lean up against him. For a moment he thought Omi might really be angry when he stayed tense, but then he snaked one hand around Ken’s back as well, head resting back on his shoulder. Ken pressing his own cheek on top of Omi’s hair, feeling drained after meeting the boy’s grandfather, hating him completely, and then thinking Omi just might have listened to the man.

"You…you wouldn’t give up on me too, if I was kidnapped?" Omi asked quietly at last, probably the last concern Ken would expect Omi to voice right now. But, he could understand why Omi would be worried; they had just met up with the nice old geezer who’d abandoned Omi when he was a kid, left him to be killed by kidnappers. The blonde had repressed the memory for a while until a mission had forced him to remember, but even then Omi still smiled. He still believed in a better tomorrow, helping strangers, and just being so openly nice. How he had come out of a family like the Takatoris was just amazing.

"In the first place, I would never let anyone do that. And you’re crazy if you don’t think I wouldn’t stop until I found you," Ken assured Omi quickly, to which the boy let out a small laugh at the fierceness in Ken’s words. He might not be able to hack computers and search through files and what not to find Omi, but if someone ever made the mistake of taking the boy away from him, he’d hunt them down until he found Omi. Period. There was nothing else. He squeezed Omi’s shoulder, a little bit more frightened by the thought of someone kidnapping the boy. He remembered the few hours when Aya had been kidnapped, though Omi and Ken hadn’t known at the time until Yohji had given them a call that everything was alright sometime late in the evening. Ken hadn’t been that worried, was more than able to trust Yohji to get back their resident coldhearted jerk, and though he would never want Omi to be in such a situation, he hoped the blonde would feel the same about him coming to the rescue. They both leaned into each other then, Omi a nice, warm weight on his side, not out dancing around the new Kritiker headquarters or wherever the fuck his grandpa had been planning on taking him.

"Ken, I-…" Omi started before he was cutoff by a very distinct noise overhead from one of their roommates. Ken looked up at the ceiling while Omi colored and looked down at his lap, hearing a bed scrape against the floor. Ken sighed, feeling sorry for poor Aya getting pounded in the middle of the day, but he preferred that to Yohji and him bickering. He’d take the screaming and moaning of sex any day over being forced to listen to the two of them argue loudly, since there was no place in the house where you couldn’t hear those two when they went at it, fighting or making love. Yohji had complained before of Ken and Omi being the same, but sometimes Ken was pretty sure that Yohji did it just to rub it in his face sometimes.

"Well, they’re having fun again," Ken growled out while Omi chuckled a little bit, slowly being dragged out of the funk meeting his grandfather had put him in. Omi pressed himself up against Ken like a kitten snuggling in for a nap while he let his own hand drop down from shoulders to ass. Omi had enough time to sound offended before Ken gave one little buttock a squeeze and the blonde just ended up yelping.

"Ken, what are you doing? It’s the middle of the afternoon," Omi protested like an uptight college student that studied way too hard. Ken rolled his eyes at the frown that was making the spot between Omi’s eyebrows wrinkle while the boy didn’t even move away from Ken’s hand. He figured Omi had to protest just so he wouldn’t sound like a hypocrite, but

"Exactly- I won’t keep you up this way. Come on, Aya and Yohji are doing it," Ken whined out like a child begging for candy, citing the fact that their roommates had more sex within one hour of making up than they had all week. Omi’s lips curved down, the boy obviously trying very hard not to smile. He shifted away from Ken to the end of the couch, suddenly leaning over the armrest and digging around in the small stand they had underneath the lamp. Ken waited, not wanting to say anything stupid that might make Omi leave the room entirely, so he opted for just staying silent. His patience was rewarded when Omi twisted right back around with a smile on his face a tube of lubrication in hand. Ken truly appreciated living with Yohji then for always keeping every room in the house well-supplied even as the moaning upstairs became more passionate and the tempo of the furniture on the floor was starting to pick up and head toward a climax.

"I love you," Omi announced delightedly, throwing both arms around Ken’s neck and kissing him on the tip of his nose. Ken shook it out, smirking a bit at Omi’s never-dying playfulness before moving his mouth up to catch the boy’s own. Ken didn’t even have to say those three words back, could put it all in a simple kiss because they knew each other so well. Omi’s tongue hit Ken’s first, a playful meeting that had been long coming. Ken started working off Omi’s shirt and then was stuck with the dilemma of having to break this kiss in order to get it off. Omi was working at his fly as well, a thumb flicking back the top button easily, but they both couldn’t do much more undressing without having to break away.

"AYA! Aya, come back here!" Yohji’s voice made both of them jump into each other’s arms, Ken no longer liking the blonde screaming above their heads. It had seemed like things were working out between the two and they had to fight now? Ken groaned and glared up at the ceiling, hoping that God was laughing good and hard at his expense. This was just fucking ridiculous to be interrupted consecutively when he was just starting to get hot and heavy with Omi. Ken cursed, mood gone in a snap as a door slammed shut and was followed by Yohji roaring for Aya to open it. Probably the bathroom, since that had a lock. Ken scrubbed at his neck, hissing out obscenities as Omi cringed against him at a loud crash. Ken had to frown at that, hearing something bigger break and Yohji’s yelling turning more frantic. He looked at Omi, who met his gaze with the same sort of worry mirrored right back at him. They both were off the couch, Ken running up the stairs ahead of Omi and buttoning up his pants at the same time. He got up into the hallway to see Yohji kick the door to the bathroom completely naked, immediately clenching his eyes closed but the image burned into his retinas. Ken had to pause and shudder before continuing down the hall to Yohji’s side, keeping his gaze on the man’s face. It wasn’t an expression often seen on the usually carefree player, panic and worry that was bordering on hysteria as he tried kicking down the bathroom door again with his bare foot.

"Yohji, what’s wrong?" Ken asked, catching the man by the arm. Immediately he was shaken off and pushed back, Yohji returning to trying to break the door down. Ken was brought up short then, Yohji much too frightened for this to be their typical argument. This was even worse than Aya last night.

"Yohji-kun, you’re bleeding," Omi gasped softly behind Ken, finally bringing his attention to the bright red smear on the back of Yohji’s thighs. He didn’t mean to make an impressed noise of shock, realizing that it was coming out from Yohji’s anus. He felt like bombshell hit him on top of the head, realizing that the pounding they had heard earlier was…Aya? It was a hard image to process, Ken forgetting how serious this situation was as he just tried to picture it...and failed.

"Fuck! I know that!" Yohji screamed it out at the kid, spittle flying as the man turned on them like a rabid animal. "Aya…he-…" Yohji’s voice was actually shaking with fear as he pointed at the locked door. "Just help me get it open!" Yohji finally yelled out, grabbing Ken this time and thrusting him in from of the bathroom door like Ken could make a difference. Ken just had to think about it for a second, considering how worried Yohji was, how upset Aya had been last night through this morning, and got that cold feeling in the pit of his stomach. That sixth sense was going off like a fire alarm all of a sudden, and Ken kicked the door once. The hinges dusted and something cracked but didn’t give. He gave it another hit and it began to fall, Ken about to step in before Yohji shoved him aside in a manner that would have made any football player jealous. Yohji caught the door in mid-fall, slamming it to lean up against the wall instead of falling on top of the body collapse on the floor of the bathroom.

First thing that hit Ken was the blood. Just a whole fucking lot of it for however much time Aya had had in there, long hair cascading into the shiny wet spot that was slowly growing on the floor. He couldn’t help but stare at the puddle Yohji slipped in before making it a controlled fall down to his knees next to the naked body on the floor. Ken was stunned at the mess inside; it seemed like Aya had punched out the glass doors of the bathtub, large shards of it everywhere, most noticeably the one by a very still hand, slashed up and pumping out more blood. He got a glimpse of one of Aya’s arms, opened up from wrist to elbow and despite the horrible slaughters Ken had seen before, he still felt the rise of vomit in his throat.

"I’m…I’ll call an ambulance," Omi managed in a very small voice before running to the phone. Ken tried to say something and failed, unable to get his feet moving. Yohji grabbed a towel hanging from the wall hard enough to yank the metal bar out a well, clattering to the floor as Yohji wrapped the cloth around one of Aya’s arms. Ken could move then, the tile disgustingly, terrifyingly warm and wet with a sticky liquid underneath his toes as he snatched one of the clean folded towels waiting on the shelf and tossed it to Yohji. It landed on the man’s shoulder and he was already winding it around Aya’s other arm, desperately trying to staunch the blood. Yohji finished that, pressing the two limbs together and lamely hugging them to his chest.

"Oh, God, Aya, you’re not doing this," Yohji’s voice was pathetically small as he started to rock over Aya’s motionless body. Ken couldn’t say anything else, realizing slowly that his hands were shaking.

Aya had just tried to commit suicide.

Yohji was just repeating Aya’s name, naked backside curled up over the limp body in his arms. The puddle of blood had stopped growing, most of it underneath Yohji’s knees and smeared across the floor from Ken’s feet. The bleeding had been stopped for now, Omi was calling the ambulance, and Ken was standing there feeling like an ass. There was utterly nothing to do but wait, blinking and trying to keep that snapshot of Aya’s arm sliced open deep enough to see the white of bone. He had done it with a goddamn shard of glass. Ken was shuddering despite having killed countless people up close and personal many times before. A set of claws wasn’t the cleanest weapon, but Ken liked the smell of blood, the sight of his enemies bleeding when he was caught up in the middle of battle. It was something else entirely to see his best friend cut himself.

Cut.

Himself.

Ken shook his head, unable to close his eyes when he was trying to cope with Aya doing this.

"The ambulance is going to be here in eight minutes or less," Omi yelled before Ken saw him in the broken doorway. Omi looked down at mess in the bathroom, choked and visibly swallowed back bile before dashing back out of sight. Ken was sure he was going to hear the sounds of Omi being sick, but instead there was just the sound of footsteps and a door opening violently.

"Please, please, baby, ambulance is going to be here soon," Yohji pleaded with Aya, Ken surprised that the man was even coherent enough to hear what was going on, opening his mouth to say something and closing it. Eight minutes or less? Ken desperately tried to remember how long it took for a human being to bleed to death. It certainly looked like Aya had a good fucking start, their bathroom resembling a homicide.... Suicide, Ken corrected himself morbidly. He prayed to God that this would be attempted suicide, tears stinging at his eyes. Omi returned, this time with an armful of clothing. He realized then that Yohji and Aya were still completely naked, but now wasn’t the time to mention getting dressed. That could wait until professional helped arrive, this accident definitely more than they could deal with at home. Omi must have come to the same conclusion, dropping the clothes to the floor and simply burying his face against the side of Ken’s arm, unable to look at their friends covered in Aya’s blood. Ken couldn’t look away as Yohji didn’t stop talking, begging Aya to stay alive and somehow not managing to break down into tears.

It was the longest four minutes and twenty seconds of Ken’s life before Omi was running downstairs to let the emergency medical team in. Ken was standing slightly outside the door before he could even start to be in the way as three men and a woman in matching uniforms came through the hallway, all carrying large bags and a stretcher between two of them. Ken heard one of the medics try to talk to Yohji first and then shoved out by one of the larger men, feet, legs, stomach, hands, and chin all streaked with pink and darker red.

"Here," Ken shoved the shirt and pants into Yohji’s chest when the blonde tried to rush the bathroom again, nothing sane in his eyes. For a second he thought Yohji might actually fight him while the paramedics tried to save his lover from dying, more likely to make things worse if he got protective over Aya now. Then, something returned to Yohji’s gaze as Ken was finally recognized. The taller blonde started trembling then, his skin jumping around in front of his eyes as Yohji seemed to struggle to just stay standing. Ken had to half-wrestle Yohji into a loose shirt, the man in no shape to figure out the holes of clothing while the medical team yelled out things to each other in doctor talk. Yohji was able to get into the pants by himself, thankfully, by the time Aya was taken out in a stretcher, the girl holding up a pack of blood on an already on a drip into the man. He couldn’t even see where they had put it in, mismatched towels starting to spot red as Aya bleed through on both arms. Yohji scrambled after them before Ken could catch him, the team hustling down the stairs with an insane blonde on their heels.

It finally cleared out enough for Ken to see Omi standing at the other end of the hall, pale-faced and tears already streaming down his face. Ken wanted to go over there and hold Omi until he broke bones, needing it himself at this point. Except they didn’t have the time right now for Ken to even try comforting Omi.

"Come on, we’ll go to the hospital on my bike," Ken directed softly, jogging back into their bedroom for the keys before back out and down the stairs. Omi followed after him, grieving pushed to the side until they knew just what the hell was going to happen to Aya.

* * *
The paramedics could tell it was a lost cause to try to separate him from Aya right now, about to break heads even if they were saving his baby’s life. He got talked into at least sitting the front seat on the drive to the hospital, only awkward silence the whole way there- or it would have been if not for the earsplitting siren going off above their heads. He would have told the driver to go fast if the speed wasn’t already making him sick, each turn feeing strangely smooth despite the fact Yohji was sure they were going to flip over. He kept looking back at the white metal wall separating the cabin from the back of the ambulance, wishing that Aya was still alive on the other side.

He couldn’t focus on anything else, not Aya’s horrified expression before he had jumped out of bed; not seeing Aya crumpled on the floor in a puddle of his own blood…just wanted Aya to be alive. That was all he needed. He believed in God right now, believed in Him full heartedly if there was some possible way to save Aya for sure. The drive to the hospital must have taken an hour, familiar city scenery becoming nothing but a blurred mess to Yohji until they pulled into the wide, well-lit emergency entrance. He didn’t wait for the ambulance to stop, just jumped out stood there as it rolled forward, opening up the door himself before the tires finally stopped moving. He got a few glares for interfering, but they lifted up Aya onto a gurney and promptly swarmed him. Yohji took it as a good sign, because at least he was still alive. That was all Yohji needed right now.

He stayed with Aya all the way through the hospital, rushed through the entry and into a sterile, blinding whiteness. Yohji didn’t notice much of anything beyond the blue of Aya’s lips and the grey tone his skin had taken, at least the little he could see through the paramedic’s shoulders. A doctor joined their rush, yelling out a room number and yelling out a running diagnosis. Yohji went along into the inner halls of the hospital alongside Aya’s gurney before he was brought up short by two orderlies physically dragging him back out through two swinging doors and into a waiting room. Yohji stumbled and turned around while the door was shut closed and clicked with a hard lock before Yohji had a chance to try pushing it open before it locked.

It hit him then that Aya was really in the hospital, was going into surgery right now. He just stared at that door, time stopping along with his heart.

Ken and Omi eventually found him some time later, long enough for his knees to have locked up. Ken got him to a seat that was too big, a nice wooden chair on the end of a row of the same, a few other people waiting for their loved ones scattered around. Yohji was somehow fascinated with the square foot tile, white with little flecks of brown. He noticed that he still didn’t have any shoes on, feet dirty from Aya’s blood and the dirt that had dried on top of it. His hands were still sticky with it; he could feel it underneath his clothes.

"We checked Aya-kun in already. Do you want to wash up?" Omi asked softly, leaning down to try and catch Yohji’s expression. He just shook his head and looked over sideways at an old man reading a magazine three seats down. If he left, they might call for someone to come claim the corpse. Yohji couldn’t leave from this chair, found the thought impossible until he heard about Aya. Omi sighed, crossing his arms and turning to Ken for help. Beyond breaking down doors, the soccer player rarely came in handy, especially now when Aya was in the middle of some sort of horrible medical surgery.

Ken was good for simply understanding though, sighing and taking a seat next to him without a word. The brunette pointed at the chair next to him, silently ordering Omi to sit down. The boy did after one more concerned frown in Yohji’s direction, settling in and leaning up against the athlete. Yohji just rested his drying, blood-caked elbows on his knees, feeling very alone right now. It had happened too fast to really process, and Yohji didn’t want to think back on it now in the waiting room for an announcement on whether Aya was going to live or not. Yohji started chewing on a thumb, wore that nail down and moved onto the next while a female voice called out various things on the overheard speaker. Yohji finally slowed down enough to realize things like there was a television mounted to the wall, a large clock next to it.

It wasn’t even three yet.

Yohji didn’t understand how life could go to utter hell so quickly. Even Aya punching him last night didn’t compare to…this. His Aya didn’t commit suicide; he took whatever the world dished out and gave it back tenfold. Aya wouldn’t do something like this- unless something had happened to make him that crazy. If Yohji had gone out and gotten himself fucked until he bled by some nameless prick, and when Aya had finished giving Yohji such a wonderful moment, a kind of orgasm he couldn’t ever remember having before- Aya had thought the bleeding had been his fault.

It was his fault. Yohji finished chewing down of the nails on each finger, wishing that he had said more, had talked more. What if he didn’t ever get that chance again? Omi returned from an absence that Yohji hadn’t even noticed in the first place, offering him a cardboard cup of black coffee. Yohji refused it by saying nothing at all, and Ken took the beverage instead to smoothly keep Omi from asking him more questions. Yohji couldn’t speak right now or else he really might start crying. He had to be strong, couldn’t let himself break down until he knew if Aya was going to be alright. That announcement was all Yohji was living for any more, his eyes locked on the clock that seemed to breaking down in front of his very eyes. The second hand wasn’t moving, stuck on the same spot for an impossibly long time that, for some reason, made Yohji grow cold inside.

"Aya Fujimiya?" a male nurse with a clipboard called the name out into the room, standing with one foot braced against the door Aya had just been wheeled down in the standard blue scrubs and hairnet that resembled a shower cap. Yohji was moving so fast that he got a head rush the second he stopped to stand in front of the man, dizzy and thought he might faint for a moment…and came back slowly in time for the nurse to finish his introduction and soft, slow talk that was building up to something. Ken and Omi finally joined Yohji on either side of him, standing back slightly to keep from crowding the man. Yohji didn’t care so much.

"Is he okay?" He cut the man off, needing an answer instead of some speech about how this asshole believed that people didn’t really die but became apart of the world in a sense we didn’t understand. Yohji couldn’t bring himself to ask if Aya was alive, felt like he would jinx it if he wasn’t careful. Still, the pause it took for the nurse to recover from being interrupted was enough to twist Yohji’s heart around inside his chest.

"Yes, he’s in intensive care right now, but I understand the doctor is asking for a ‘Yohji’ to come," the man answered at last, Omi sighing in relief while Ken let out a few nervous barks of laughter behind him. Yohji wanted to drop to the floor, his knees trying to give out but his mind screaming at himself to stand tall.

"I’m Yohji, that’s me, where is he?" Yohji demanded, not about to let himself be relieved. It could be that they were asking him to come and decide between Aya living the rest of his life hooked up to machines or to let him go now. This was Aya, this was his boyfriend, and not some fucked-up soap opera come to life. He needed to see Aya now more than ever, wanted to see those lips draw in breath and just be alive. Aya could hate Yohji to his heart’s content, but he’d be alive. Yohji could barely breathe himself, certain that his heart was going to stop if he didn’t see Aya in the next five minutes.

"Okay, just follow me then, please," the nurse held the door open for Yohji, gently shaking his head when Omi and Ken tried to follow. Yohji swallowed hard, desperately wishing that it was because this hospital was just strict about visitors right now, not that the nurse wanted to tell him in private that they had just been too late to save Aya. The door was shut and the man started walking down the hall. Yohji wished he could just run through and check every room until he found Aya, because it felt like it would be faster than trying to follow this man. He had to slow down his steps for the short bastard who had flipped over the first few pages on his clipboard and was reading ahead to the next patient. The nurse finally stopped in the middle of the hallway, gesturing to his left to start to lead Yohji in the room, but he was already inside. There was a single bed, surrounded by equipment and hospital personal, one doctor in a white lab coat explaining the particular condition the patient was experiencing to a young intern as if Aya was a live college lecture.

Aya himself was strapped down to the bed, one across his chest and another over his waist and the large white bandages covering Aya’s arms, even his hands until it looked like Aya was wearing oversized oven mitts. He was straining against the leather, feet dragging down the sheets a female nurse kept trying to pull over him while above it all, Yohji could hear Aya moaning and half-sobbing while the medical staff talked about him instead of helping the man.

He heard Aya call out his name, obviously disorientated, restrained, and had just tried to commit suicide. Yohji choked at the scene, catching the doctor’s as the short man turned around to him.

"Are you this ‘Yohji’ he’s asking for; Do you know how to calm him down? I’m afraid if he keeps struggling around he might commit suicide twice," the doctor asked, chuckling once as if he had made some sort of joke. Yohji glared pure murderer at the man as he quickly passed, violently shoving an intern out of the way to take his place by Aya’s bedside. Aya’s eyes were shut and his skin was a fog-grey with blue veins underneath, his lips the color of the sky. He’d lost so much blood, so much blood in the bathroom, still on Yohji, but somehow still had the strength to struggle against the belts.

"Why are these fucking things off him?!" Yohji screamed at them before smoothing back Aya’s hair tenderly.

"Hey, babe, I’m here," Yohji said it in the gentlest voice he could manage, which still sounded borderline homicidal. He would have held Aya’s hand right now, but it was completely wrapped up underneath several layers of bandages. So, Yohji settled with petting Aya’s hair back, resting his other hand on top of the sleeve of the hospital gown Aya had been changed into. The staff in the room stopped buzzing about what medication and blood type was needed and began murmuring softly about two men and what must be between the two of them. Yohji would have usually started knocking heads together when a bunch of small-minded people started babbling, but it was surprisingly easy to mute.

"Aya, I’m right here," Yohji didn’t know what else to say, just instinctively knowing that Aya needed to hear his voice right now. Sometimes that was the only was to reach Aya in the middle of the nightmares he suffered from, when he woke the both of them up screaming and fighting. He had never tried to kill himself because of one of those flashbacks, though. Yohji felt like he was living a nightmare now, repeating himself helplessly. The third time was the charm as Aya’s body finally started to relax- underneath those damn leather straps. He already had a preexisting condition about being restrained, so Yohji could only imagine what sort of scene the leather had evoked inside Aya’s obviously drugged-up head. Whatever painkillers they had given Aya obviously weren’t strong enough, because Yohji could see the special wrinkles that formed between his eyebrows whenever Aya was in pain. Even unconscious, Yohji could tell.

But pain meant alive, and that was what mattered right now.

"Taro, can you bring in a chair, please?" The man asked, someone leaving the room to fetch whatever the man had asked for. Yohji was more concerned about Aya, body gone far too still for someone who had just been struggling so desperately only a few seconds ago. Even if Aya had calmed down because he knew that Yohji was finally there, he didn’t like how Aya was no longer even shaking, even his forehead cool underneath Yohji’s fingers.

"Mr. Yohji, I would like you to stay here with the patient since you seem to be able to keep him docile. I’m afraid I don’t feel comfortable giving him any more drugs," the doctor announced uselessly. He wasn’t listening to the man and his words didn’t even need to be said aloud. Of course Yohji wasn’t going to leave now, not until he saw Aya open up his eyes again. He stood there without another care beyond smoothing one particular chunk of Aya’s bangs down. For being so smooth and silky, Aya’s hair could be so wild some times, just like the once-shockingly redheaded’s personality. Yohji would give anything to have Aya still fighting with him, beating the shit out of him, whatever Aya wanted to do.

Yohji’s fingers stuck and he looked down, noticing dark brown flecks of dried blood clumping Aya’s hair together. Yohji could only stare down at his hand in horror while one of the nurses brought in a black, hard plastic chair with metal legs. It would have been a wooden crate for all Yohji cared. He collapsed down into it, hands never leaving Aya’s body.

"That was a very close call. He need stitches and will be hospitalized for at least twenty-four hours. I have him on a-…" the doctor started babbling on about Aya’s condition.

"Can…Can I just be alone with him for a moment?" Yohji didn’t want to have to say ‘please,’ but he really couldn’t stand to listen to man for one fucking second longer.

"Oh, of course. I’ll be back in twenty minutes to check on Mr. Fujimiya," the doctor was trying very hard to be personal right now while Yohji hunched over Aya’s unconscious form. He didn’t give the man any sign of acknowledgement, just waited while the room was slowly cleared. There was nothing left but the soft beeping of the various machines hooked up to his lover’s body, Aya’s shallow breathing, and Yohji’s own choked sobs as he finally allowed himself to cry.
AUTHOR’S NOTES: On Jerry there was a gay cross-dressing man who was dumping the straight girlfriend he hid behind for his male lover, and he said something I thought was hilarious: ‘she enjoys me in front, he enjoys me in back.’

There, some humor for you all.

Giggles some more and then realizes the tastelessness of my author’s notes. So, as Kero would say ‘putting that thought aside.’

Yeah, I got sidetracked from Weiss, sorry. I was just getting more love for Saiyuki and I go to where I’m needed! Will someone please explain to me why there are so many Sanzo/Goku and not Gojyo/Sanzo? It’s like finding slash for the Bill Cosby show. It’s just wrong.

IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT: Hold onto your panties for this one. I’m going on vacation…to Japan! (EEE!)I’ve gots me some international ass peddling to do. I’ll be back at the end of August, hopefully inspired and alive! So, until then, enjoy!!!
AUTHOR’S PATHETICALLY APPRECIATIVE ALPHABETICAL THANK-YOU BOARD

BETA-READER(S- it didn’t really need to be plural for this chapter)

Iie nome

(I had to make her name look special, because she’s done so much for me)

REVIEWERS- but you guys rock the cabash!

Ann ime (First to review for this chapter! Hooray!) Thank you for assuring me that details are okay, sometimes I wonder…and then I think about other little details I forgot to put in. Sigh. I love Schuldig too, he’s so perfectly evil! Thanks once again.

Calligraphy- Oh, I plan a happy ending to end all happy endings…it’s just Gluhen has to happen first. u__u And Aya and Yohji are still always going to be crazy for each other, those silly bois. Thank you for reviewing and reading!

Evilkat- you still rock on, first or not! Thank you for agreeing on my angst recipe, I added in the main ingredients in this chapter but…well…there’s still more to write (evil laugh, lightning crash). I work for Mel Brooks, byatch! …no, that’s a dirty lie, I just wish I did. Next time I use German, I’ll be sure to have translations as well!

Ilovedaveyhavok- thank you once again for reviewing another chapter. You like me; you really, really like me! (Glomp)

Janet- thank you for reviewing now, I appreciate it so much. I’m glad you think so highly of my writing style, here’s to getting more out for you to enjoy.

Jukebox csi- I think your review somehow slipped through the cracks, so thank you once again or for the first time. Yes, yes, it’s turning darker and darker still! But, don’t worry kids, I promise droplets of good humor as well.

Koji-chan- Yay, a complete review this time, thank you mediaminer for not screwing it up…or taking my fics down for the NC-17 rating! I’m glad you enjoyed last chapter and hope this one was fun-enjoyable-I realize that there’s really not an adjective for this chapter yet. Well, hope you enjoyed it nonetheless.

Memoritrail- once again, thank you for reviewing each and every chapter on AFFN. Thank you for being there through all the crappy grammar and emotional hang-ups. Here’s some more.

Nitelyfe- Tell your boss you were feeling ‘gherific.’ Squee, even sneaking looks at work? That makes me so much more devious. Thank you so much for choosing my fic to start you out in this fandom.

Trinity Bennett- I actually just read the first couple of pages of Hemmingway before he became a part of the leg of my coffee table, I just judged on how thick the book was compared to a physical, printed out version of ‘I Hate Him’ (Haven’t actually seen it myself, but have heard some stories). Actually did read all of Conrad, though I try to repress that as much as possible, just like The Jungle. Shudder.

Weiss Lover27- Oooh, ‘devouring’ this? I’m so happy. Coincidently, I update so soon after you post. Yohji and Aya fucking ROCK, what is with the Yohji and Omi pairing I see at times? (Though I do have ONE doujinshi because it was really cute)
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