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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
- 5
- 6
- 7
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Weiss Kruez and Koyasu Takehito, and wouldn’t you just have guessed it, gay sex.
They couldn’t get Yohji to leave the hospital.

Yohji was refusing to budge from Aya’s bedside, one hand perpetually stuck in the motion of petting the man’s long hair down with the other locked onto the metal bar of Aya’s hospital bed. One of the male nurses was still sporting a black eye from when he tried to tell Yohji that visiting hours were almost over. Omi had attempted to talk to one of the doctors since neither Ken nor Yohji had any sort of diplomacy in order to get those big, horrible leather straps removed; but the elderly man had firmly refused. Until Aya woke up once again and his mental state could be confirmed, they were going to keep him strapped down to a bed ‘for his own good.’ Ken had almost attacked the doctor himself then- and they were informed that the next time one of their party acted violently, they could find a new hospital.

That was enough to shock the two of them into silence. Omi had dragged a less-than-cooperative Ken out of the doctor’s office and went to say goodbye to Yohji for the night, since they weren’t as insane as to fight every hospital staff member for the chance to stay after hours. Omi would have liked to, wished that they were really family so they could stay here until Aya woke up again. He didn’t want to go home and be left to wonder about what was happening here. Omi was still trying his best to just understand what had happened, try to piece together why Aya would have suddenly snapped. Even when Aya had been in the midst of his worst depression he hadn’t ever hurt himself before, or at least Omi had thought so. He could lay money that it had something to do with the fact that Yohji had been bleeding from his rear when he and Ken had first discovered the older blonde trying to break the bathroom door down. He wasn’t as innocent as the other three seemed to think he was, sure that it had probably been nothing more than accidentally rough sex…but that was just as improbable as Aya slitting his wrists in the first place. He wasn’t about to ask Yohji personally, not yet, while the man was still in the clothing Ken had shoved him into earlier, his hands and feet bloody with a streak of red down the length of his chin. Yohji couldn’t even start a sentence before trailing off, this hollow look in his eyes telling Omi that the older man was having just as hard of time with this as Omi. Even worse. He just wished that Aya was awake again so that Yohji would resemble sanity, that they could get out of this hospital and everyone could go back home.

After Omi hid all the sharp objects in the house.

Yohji had grunted his goodbye without even looking back at them, Aya the only thing he cared about at the moment. It was absolutely awful to have to leave the hospital like that, Aya still unconscious and Yohji about ready to just shut down, turn off and not be there until Aya was back. Omi had known that Yohji loved Aya, but there hadn’t been a situation like this to prove just how much. Aya had become the focus-point of everything for Yohji and it was heartbreaking to see the typical joker so upset that he couldn’t even talk. Omi had lost the ability himself, numbly following Ken as they left the building and went to the parking lot. They put on their helmets in a tired, silent way; both of them too shell-shocked to do anything more than get back on Ken’s bike. The sound of the engine thankfully drowned out the biting silence, neither of them about to spare the effort it would take to yell over the motorbike and wind. Not when there was so little to say.

Everything had just happened so fast.

The whole ride home, Omi couldn’t do anything but replay that scene over and over in his mind. One second Ken and he had been in the middle of what could have been very, very nice sex; it had been so long that even Omi had been feeling a little bit aroused at the moment…and then Aya was committing suicide in the bathroom. He couldn’t close his eyes or he would see little flashes of Yohji moaning, begging Aya’s unconscious body to stay alive long enough for the ambulance to come. He gripped Ken’s stomach tighter than necessary for just keeping himself on the bike, wanting to feel the warm, solid mass of his lover. He knew that Ken wouldn’t do anything crazy like try to kill himself in the bathroom; but then again, he had thought the same of Aya. Omi certainly didn’t think their fearless leader would try to kill himself. Just how was he supposed to admire Aya now? Even he thought that was a coward’s way out, to leave everyone else behind. It was funny how death only hurt the ones left living, because then that person was resting peacefully forever. Omi didn’t want to go to Aya’s funeral, desperately prayed that he wouldn’t have to go through that ordeal. Didn’t know how he was going to react, but Omi could already feel little parts of him starting to shut off at the mere thought. It hurt to be that unaware of what his friend had been going through. Aya just didn’t flip out like that for no reason, even if he did have a temper. Omi didn’t think that he would be able to survive through Ken trying anything of the sort, would be just as worried as Yohji was. Ken was the strong one; he believed in himself even if all evidence pointed to the contrary, self-confident and intensely loyal to his friends, even if he was bit on the slow side at times. That was part of the charm, and Omi couldn’t imagine what his life would be like without the loud, obnoxious soccer player… or a temperamental redhead.

They got back home without any incident, Ken tiredly announcing that he was going to take a shower before heading inside. It took Omi a little bit longer to get his helmet off and start walking toward the house at last. Opening up the back door was more painful than Omi would have ever thought it would be. Everything in the house had gone deathly still, not a single sound being the slight buzzing of various electronics and distant traffic, a gray color fuzzing Omi’s vision…except when he walked down the hall past the bathroom, the broken door still leaning against the wall. That room was still painted red with Aya’s blood. The broken shower door was in small, shiny pieces scattered in and out of the bathtub, one large, jagged shard rusting with dried blood. Omi had seen Aya bleed before. The man had a tendency to hide the wounds until they made him collapse, usually in a large splatter of red and leather trench coat. Aya had once made it all the way home from a mission with four bullets still inside him before he had allowed them to finally see to the injuries, but this was different. This was much, much more horrifying and unimaginable, so unreal that Omi felt like he was watching a movie. Why would Aya ever be driven to such? He couldn’t imagine how Yohji must be feeling right now. Omi swallowed hard, feeling so sick and unable to do anything other than sit there. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do, couldn’t even so much as blink without seeing the bathroom, Ken’s red and smeared footprints spreading the mess around on the floor- until Omi acknowledged the fact that it wasn’t paint at all…

Aya had tried to commit suicide.

Omi fell right down to his knees in the hallway, burying his face into his hands. He couldn’t do anything else, too overcome with grief to even stand upright a moment longer. It was all he could do to keep himself at mere sniffles instead of howling aloud like he desperately wanted to. There should have been something that he could have done, somehow have been able to foretell this was coming and prevent it. He was supposed to be the sensitive one of the group, so why hadn’t he been able to tell that Aya had been that upset? Why had he listened to Ken when the brunette said that it was just another one of Aya and Yohji’s fights, nothing to worry about? Now there was a very big worry: that Aya might not make it.

He was still sobbing softly to himself when Ken had come up the stairs from using the second shower on the first floor, slowly at first and then a dead run when he saw Omi kneeling on the floor. Ken was still wet from the shower when he was throwing his own arms around Omi, wearing only a white towel around his hips- just like the ones Yohji had used to wrap Aya’s wrists. Omi only started crying harder at the comfort of his own lover, wondering if Yohji was ever going to get a chance to hold Aya again. He couldn’t stand up, couldn’t even wipe at his nose as he fell against that warm, tan body that was bigger than his and ready to protect him. Water drops hit the top of his head and Omi had to wonder how much of it was from Ken’s wet hair or his own poorly hidden tears. They both hugged each other with something that bordered on violence, neither of them about to pretend to be strong about this like Yohji was.

"It’s going…oh, Omi," Ken trailed off, no longer able say that it was all going to be okay like he wanted to hear. Ken wasn’t the type to lie, and as much as Omi hated it, it was times like these that it was needed. He wanted Ken to say that Aya was going to be just fine, he just needed a night in the hospital and everything was going to be better in the morning. Omi just couldn’t manage to pretend that things would improve tomorrow, couldn’t fake a smile right now. One of his best friends had gone crazy. Absolutely insane. Aya would never do something like that to himself otherwise. Just what was going to happen when he woke up? It almost felt like Aya had already died; his absence so painful and tangible. Omi was trying to brace himself for the phone call even now; sure that Yohji was soon going to be on the other end, numbly announcing that Aya hadn’t made it. The bare reality was absolutely numbing, even when Ken tried to run a hand through his hair and made a pleading noise to hush. It was too close to what Yohji had been doing for Aya for Omi to stop now; not sure if he had been crying only for a few minutes or a couple of days. He just buried his face into the small indent between Ken’s chest muscles, wanting all that bad stuff to just go away.

Ken finally grew sick of crying on the floor.

He loved Omi to death, but he couldn’t stand to see the blonde so damn upset. He didn’t know what to do or say that could possibly make everything better. He didn’t even know if things were going to get better. Yohji was the only person that had ever been able to tell what Aya was really thinking…if he had just been so distressed he tried to kill himself or if this had been building up for a while. Ken bent over Omi, burying his face into soft blonde hair instead of glancing over at the bloody bathroom. He wished that there was a rewind button for life, not the first time something so utterly horrible had happened to their ragtag family. It was the first time that it had been self-inflicted though, Ken shaking his head as the reason why Aya would have ever done anything like this completely escaping him. He was just as lost as Omi was, left to wait on either Aya waking up or finally slipping away…permanently.

Ken had already shed a few tears, not ready to outright cry. He couldn’t do that when Omi was already sobbing hard enough for the both of them. He could tell just by the shaking mass in his arms that Omi was in no state to get up on his own, much less form a coherent sentence around the tears. It wouldn’t do any good to try and coax Omi to stand up by himself; nothing to say right now that could possibly cheer the kid up. Ken could almost hate Aya for being so damn self-centered…if the man wasn’t strapped down to a hospital bed. He just wanted Aya back home so he could grab the man by the shoulders and finally shake some goddamn sense into the man. Did he think that they wouldn’t care? Ken was going to beat the shit out of Aya himself whenever the man recovered enough to take a good pounding. He was angry enough to do it too…or should that be miserable? He didn’t know what to think, but he wasn’t going to sit there with Omi crying his heart out and not do a damn thing.

So, he just as easily gathered Omi up, the boy’s arms naturally wrapping around his neck while he got his arms underneath knees and shoulders. Ken lost his towel in the process, but he didn’t really care. He couldn’t be concerned about being decent when Omi was such a mess right now. The poor kid was small and light like usual, easy to pick up and carry into the bedroom. Ken’s first thought was to simply throw Omi down on the bed and play wrestle to cheer the boy up, but he was pretty sure that wouldn’t exactly be appreciated right now. Instead of that, he just let Omi down very carefully on the bed before sitting himself, sighing and rubbing his palms against his eyes. This must really be what hell was like, one friend in the hospital and his lover unable to even see straight through the tears in his eyes. Ken starting scratching at his wet hair, pulling it a bit in an effort to speed up his thought process on how to make Omi smile again while the boy somehow managed to twist around so that his head was pillowed on top of Ken’s leg, like a puppy trying to get comfortable. He sighed heavily before reaching down to pet Omi’s head, unable to resist the temptation.

"Yohji’s at the hospital now, and Aya’s going to wake up soon," Ken tried again, making it sound like he really believed those words. He wished he could get that sad expression to disappear instead of only making Omi frown deeper. Ken knew that he was spouting complete bullshit right now, but Omi liked to hear that. The blonde was always happier when someone just let a little white lie drop so the problem could be completely avoided in the end. Except this was one thing couldn’t be brushed to the side; in fact, it was right in their face. Just how selfish could Aya be by trying to commit suicide? They had all survived through too much bad shit time and time again to just give it up one afternoon. Ken would never forgive Aya if the man didn’t make it, wouldn’t be able to accept their former leader’s passing away in some damn hospital. He couldn’t imagine that Yohji would even last very long if Aya managed to take his life after all. The tall blonde was already starting to crumble right in front of them as he waited restlessly in the chair by Aya’s bed. How could Aya even think of committing suicide when there were obviously this many people worried about him?

"Ken, I’m so scared. What if-…" Omi started at last, his voice quivering as he couldn’t finish that single question and just trailed off instead.

"It’s not going to happen. Aya’s going to wake up and we’re going to sort this out," Ken promised him, messing up Omi’s hair with one hand. The boy didn’t even tell him to stop, just turned his face into the muscle of Ken’s leg and smeared a bit of warm moisture from tears on his skin. There was a hiccupping noise that Omi usually made when he was trying to stop crying, but he could tell that this little fit was far from over. Ken sighed, honestly thinking that a few words would be enough to make Omi happy but proven very wrong. He decided to just go physical, leaning over the smaller body to cover Omi up and keep all that sad shit at bay. It was awkward to hug Omi tightly at this angle, but Ken still managed. He kissed Omi on the shoulder and neck, just soft enough to be comforting even though he would have liked to do more. It was still enough for the boy to shake his head and make a fussy noise before burying his face further into the indent before Ken’s hip. That might not have been the best place to go right now, but Ken felt like it was necessary right now. He knew one thing that would definitely take Omi’s mind off of this awful mess, and it had been a long fucking time since they had last fooled around. Omi wasn’t going to be making it to class today, not when he still had yet to make it into the kitchen without crying. There was no reason why Ken couldn’t make every little worry be washed away with some good, old-fashioned sex.

The light kissing turned into suckling, Ken picking up a fleshy earlobe and nibbling on it. Omi squirmed a bit at that and made a slight grunt that Ken wasn’t sure if it was protest or laughter, so he continued anyway. It seemed like it had been years since he had been able to put his lips against Omi’s neck and start sucking hard enough to leave a reddened mark that would eventually come into a yellow or blue.

"But, I-…" Omi started before Ken muffled the rest of it with a kiss on the mouth and a hand pressing down over his groin. Omi was entirely too-overdressed when Ken was wearing nothing but whatever water hadn’t dried from the shower. He started working at the boy’s shorts, thankful that they were loose enough to just tug down Omi’s hips; ironically enough, helped by the fact that the boy had been trying to struggle against it. Boxers and shorts were yanked over his ankles before Omi could even make a grab for the clothing, tossed to the side to leave the blonde in nothing but a t-shirt that he was vainly trying to tug down for modesty. Ken had to admit that he liked the view, Omi’s legs always nice and thin. They weren’t shapely like a woman’s, but held an appeal all of their own. Ken liked the fact that Omi usually wore shorts, if it didn’t mean he was trotting the view around for the general public. Ken tended to get possessive when it came to what was his, and he really didn’t give a fuck if it did border on crazy or not.

"Shouldn’t we go to the hospital?" Omi asked weakly as he tried to shift his legs around on the bed to hide himself and failing. Ken only grinned wider, getting more of a show than Omi would ever know. Despite the complaining, the blonde was starting to blush a little bit and was distinctly avoiding his gaze. There were no more tears even though Omi’s face was still blotched red, tousled hair and an absolutely pitiable expression on his face. It only made Ken want to make love to him more. Omi was still trying to behave even though it was obvious that he was starting to get turned on. Ken just had to add a little more pressure.

"Visiting hours wont start for another hour," Ken countered as he moved in close again, feeling predatory as he slid up against Omi’s side. He wasn’t sure what hour it was right now, but if Ken got his way, they wouldn’t be going until after lunch any way. There was a moment’s trouble in trying to get his hand up the blonde’s shirt as Omi attempted to get off the bed until he ran face-first into Ken’s chest. Small, childish hands that had yet to grow out went to his shoulders and Omi looked him right in the eye, sadness and guilt wavering in those baby blues. How was Ken supposed to resist the puppy face?

"But, I can’t stop thinking about Aya-kun," Omi admitted in a soft voice, sniffing afterwards as he fought off yet more tears. Ken nodded, understanding that completely even if they were dealing with it in different ways. That split-second image of Aya collapsed on the bathroom floor, enough blood leaking out to seem like the man had broken a full wine bottle instead of slit his wrists. It had been right out a fucking B-rated horror film, so disgustingly terrifying that it was still hard to think of as real. Except Omi was crying right now because Aya was in the hospital, Ken hadn’t seen Yohji since their resident ice-cube had finally had his big meltdown. He sighed, letting go of Omi and running both hands through his hair as the mood was suddenly lost. He couldn’t understand why it had to be yesterday that Aya had chosen to go absolutely crazy, so long after missions were over, that job they all pretended Aya had never had ended, and Yohji absolutely adoring him every minute of the day. Life couldn’t possibly be bad enough- or at all- to want to fucking end it all. Aya could be so goddamn selfish sometimes. Was he just so utterly blind to how much they all cared for him? Poor Omi was going to dehydrate himself into a raisin at this rate.

"Ken, would it be…alright if we just forgot about it for a while?" Omi asked hesitantly at his side, his chin suddenly resting on Ken’s shoulder as the blonde initiated the contact first. Ken glanced down at Omi, knowing that there was a reason beyond those heartbreakingly cute features, high intelligence, and good humor to why he loved Omi. They had more in common than people would ever believe. Omi wanted to lose himself in a few solid minutes of bodily passion just as much as Ken; the only difference being that Omi actually felt guilty about it. He was practically asking Ken for permission to feel like shit because their best friend had attempted suicide in the bathroom, as if there was something bad in trying to distract themselves from that pain instead of completely drowning in it.

"That’s why we’re doing this," Ken explained aloud, never one to give up on just the first time. Though he had felt like it. He was weak from this, sick with worry for Aya and Yohji alike; and Omi was one person that he knew could comprehend the situation entirely- recognize him and the habits Ken had developed to deal with these sorts of things. He quickly turned back to Omi; using a hand to cup the side of the boy’s face and tilt it up to the right angle for a kiss. Ken was brought up short by those nice fat, pink lips started moving, still having enough patience right now to wait and hear whatever Omi might have to say.

"I just can’t keep thinking about it," Omi’s voice quivered, revealing yet again just how shaken up he was over this. Ken sighed at the repeated words as his lover worried his pretty little blonde head off. For not wanting to think about it, Omi sure was dwelling. He was dwelling- Ken was never going to be able to get that fucking sight of Aya in a puddle of his own blood out of his head. It was just too messed up to even consider for a moment longer, so he didn’t. Ken decided that the best choice of action would just be to make it impossible for Omi to even talk anymore, grabbing him by the shoulders and firmly kissing Omi until they both fell down onto the mattress. The shirt was finally taken off and it was just skin against skin. Omi rolled out from under him and then back up on top, taking the slightest moment to grab the tube of lubrication that Ken had been keeping out in plain sight in the vain hope it might get the chance to for use that way. Full school weeks were just too damn long for Ken, and the sudden tragic turn of events hadn’t helped matters. That was probably why it was so damn nice to have Omi sitting on his thigh, finally breaking a smile before it turned into a surprised squeak as Ken dragged him down by one elbow.

They started kissing again, and it almost turned into a contest of who could use their tongue better. After being together for so long, Omi had no reason to be shy or hesitant any more. They were a real couple, something that Ken had always thought he was going to find in a girl. So, maybe he wasn’t going to be raising kids with Omi, but that was just as well. He didn’t want to have to explain why Daddy woke up screaming in the middle of the night. At least Omi already knew why he did, something that never really had to be explained between them. Omi talked too much anyway, like he had to feel guilty before he could be happy. Ken didn’t understand where the blonde found the time to feel sorry for himself when he was so damn cheerful and energetic all the time- he wouldn’t ever be able to forgive Omi if the boy tired to commit suicide himself, just like Aya. It was better if they just made love instead, so Omi would be able to physically feel how much Ken cared for him. There wasn’t another person in the world that Ken would actually have the patience for waiting out all their tears, no matter how long it had been since they last had sex.

He ran his fingernails down Omi’s arms, eventually breaking off at the shoulders to toy with a nipple instead. It came into life quickly enough along with a little moan that made Ken grin like an idiot. Omi’s knee was in the right place, knocking against an erection that was getting harder and harder to avoid. Ken vaguely remembered that he had wanted to try a little more foreplay than usual, but if anything ended up going the complete opposite of that plan. It was much, much more fun to simply grab Omi by the waist and thigh before flipping their positions entirely so that the blonde was right back under him again, a little bit of mattress wrestling that Ken was champion of. He grabbed one of Omi’s legs and hoisted it up, running his tongue down from the ankle to the knee. Omi always tasted great for some reason, slightly salty because of sweat from this damn heat but always a little bit of vanilla. Ken had first thought it was the scented body soap, but one experimental lick had proven that it did not taste like how it smelled. He was beginning to suspect it was because of the massive amount of candy Omi consumed on a daily basis; either that or it was some sort of talent like the collection of flat-out freaks Esset had scraped together. Omi could fight evil with his delicious, soft flesh. Yeah, right, Ken laughed to himself, as if he would ever let that one happen. He loved Omi, really did love him…wondering somewhere in the back of his head just how awful it might be if he actually tried to propose like Yohji. He didn’t want to marry, didn’t want to bound to another person like that just because they ‘loved’ each other. He didn’t need a piece of paper and some crappy jewelry to prove it. Ken didn’t really consider that love in the end. It was being in bed with Omi right now, forgetting all the bad things for a moment and being able to have such stupid, happy thoughts. It was about having sex before noon, which Ken was getting further distracted from.

Thankfully, Omi bit one of Ken’s nipples for himself right then, using his teeth to nibble for a moment. It was good, a sharp little tugging in contrast to the pleasurable heat starting to build at his groin and the fuzzy thoughts trying to interrupt that. It was still a far cry better than having Aya stagger in drunk and miserable. Ken didn’t even think further about that, just pushed all the irritation at being walked in on, outright refused, and the other hundred-so interruptions that had managed to pop up every time Ken had tried to turn it up a notch with Omi right out of his mind. What followed was a mess of biting, kissing, and unintentional bruising before Ken found himself with a hand covered in lube, in between Omi’s legs, and a little too excited to try and be conservative and neat about this all. He just took the barest amount of time to stretch Omi with his fingers, panting hard and doing his best to not just drive home without any regard for his lover. Besides, things were always so fucking nice when Omi was just as aroused as him, sweating lightly and a blush on his cheeks. Ken was almost obsessed with the way Omi looked against the plain, white cotton sheets, blonde hair all the more blonde for being against such colorless background.

He used a slimy hand slick with lube and a little bit of precum from his dick to guide himself up against Omi’s opening and then in. Slowly, deliberately, giving Omi time to twist and adjust while he moaned and whimpered the whole time. Five fingernails dug hard enough into Ken’s bicep to draw blood, Omi gritting his teeth together as he tried to pretend like it didn’t hurt after all this time. Ken reached in between them, gently stroking the whole length of Omi’s erection up and down and repeating, doing his best to distract Omi while he pushed in up to the balls. One leg went around his back and Ken was awkwardly held there for a moment, both of them truly lost in sensation now. It was indeed fucking something to be completely inside Omi, his most sensitive skin wrapped all the way around by a crushing heat that was threatening to take away his vision. Even better yet, Ken started moving as he worked Omi’s penis with his hand, brushing his thumb up against the sensitive slit on top and rewarded with a shudder that almost threatened to snap his dick right off. For being so short and tiny, Omi was nothing else but muscle and bone no matter how much candy the little sugar-glutton could put down.

Slowly at first, not wanting to overwhelm Omi…and then ignoring that the next when he felt himself slide in and right back out. He couldn’t help it, couldn’t be blamed for just blanking after that point. He started pounding hard into Omi, enough to push the boy back along the sheets until he threw a hand against the backboard to keep his head from slamming against the bed frame. Omi was biting his lower lip, tossing his head back, and looking completely out of this world. He was probably rougher than he should be, not giving a thought to making it last now that he was finally here. He just started jerking Omi off in same time to his thrusts, not even having the mental capacity to vary it. He just loved Omi, really, really loved Omi, and didn’t know any other way to show it other than mind-blowing sex. He wasn’t clever like Yohji with his big fancy words and engagement rings, but this was the next best thing…or the first as Omi came, a warm stickiness covering Ken’s hand as he picked up tempo.

"Ken," Omi managed to make out, and through the passion Ken knew that he was the only person Omi ever called by just his intimate, first name. Just that, one simple little word from Omi, and he couldn’t hold it back any longer. He came, hard and deep with something that might have been a grunt. Omi covered anything up with a scream of his own, long and rather satisfying since Ken knew it was all because of him. He still had a few more shuddering thrusts left in him, body instincts taking over until he was finally spent. Ken fell bonelessly down on top of Omi’s own limp body, the boy’s inhalation making him rise up before Omi choked and started gasping for air. Ken tried to roll off of Omi quickly, but he was secretly thankful when the blonde gave him a shove of his own. Ken didn’t think he would have been able to get off Omi otherwise. He relaxed completely on the bed, not needing the sheets in this heat, and didn’t even have the energy to care that his head wasn’t even on the pillows. He was all for taking a little morning nap and felt Omi move just as slowly next to him, throwing a loose arm around Ken’s side and smiling full heartedly.

"I think I wanna go to class now," Omi announced as he snuggled up against Ken’s sweat-slick chest, making no move to get out of bed. He just smiled and nodded agreement, putting a hand on Omi’s shoulder and forgetting for a moment just how shitty life was going to be when they finally walked out of the bedroom again.

* * *

Yohji’s hand finally went numb sometime around three thirty a.m. He knew that because of the clock on Aya’s heart monitor. What a nice little place to have the crisp, green digits. Yohji would be able to know the exact minute Aya died and could follow the very second afterward. He didn’t have the strength to smooth out Aya’s hair, to use his fingers and scrape out some blood that had caked in the long strands. He had lost track of doing anything else, already at such a complete lack a knowing just what he should do. Aya wasn’t talking to him. Aya was lying there in the hospital with too many wires shoved in him and breathing tubes up his nose just incase he stopped breathing because of his body’s own lethargy. It was hard to perform basic functions when one had lost almost a third of their blood. Aya was on critical life support, and for pure hygienic reasons Yohji shouldn’t be there, but he couldn’t leave.

The doctor had morbidly told Yohji that Aya wouldn’t have lived another five minutes if the paramedics hadn’t arrived when they did, as if that was supposed to be reassuring.

He didn’t know what to do anymore. This was his fault, and Aya was the one committing suicide. Aya just couldn’t get it through his thick skull that Yohji could make mistakes. He had never been able to curb that self-deprecation and blaming line of thought, only assure Aya at every chance that the man was brilliant, witty, and beautiful. For some reason that hadn’t been enough, and Yohji couldn’t say he didn’t blame the man. What better way to say ‘I love you’ than getting fucked hard enough to bleed by some stranger? Aya should have left him, should have beaten Yohji up a second time…anything…just anything other than hurting himself. Yohji was the one who deserved it, would have cut his own wrists gladly just so he could have beaten Aya to the point. A million little things he should have done differently.

"Aya…I love you. I’m sorry," Yohji finally just tried talking. Aya couldn’t start an argument, not like this, all pale and lifeless on the hospital bed. He was glad that the lights had dimmed in the hospital to provide a false sense of night, not so harsh on the corpse that somewhat resembled his lover. Yohji had to apologize again, had to make sure that Aya wasn’t blaming himself…even though he was the one with over twenty new stitches in both arms. He shouldn’t feel so damn moved; impressed that Aya had been able to cut himself so deeply with only the glass from a broken shower door. Yohji had to clench his eyes closed to keep from crying, reaching out and picking up one of those cold, smooth hands in his own and squeezing it tightly just to assure himself that Aya was still there. He was the most selfless person Yohji had ever met, once he actually chose to trust someone. Yohji knew just how hard it was for Aya to open up to anyone, how much it meant when the man had finally been able to break the most simple and slightest smiles in public.

Aya was special, not just because of his rare coloring or not-so-delightful personality. He was the first person Yohji had ever just clicked with, had immediately understood from the moment he had found the redhead sprawled out from his first introductory fistfight with Ken. Just one look of those violet eyes and there was no reason to say anything. Except this time, Yohji had already tried everything else. He had to say something this time, had to talk this out. Nothing else was working, not when Aya was unconscious and giving the only sign of life through the soft beep of the heart monitor. It might have driven Yohji insane with irritation any other time, but for some reason it was incredibly assuring to hear that high-pitched click every second or so.

"I’m so…sorry," Yohji wasn’t going to cry about this. Not until Aya opened up his eyes and demanded Yohji to act like a man. He wanted his pissy redhead back, not the washed-out version in the hospital bed right now. Aya’s lips weren’t really this blue. His skin wasn’t really this grey. He didn’t deserve the large straps across his chest or the video camera mounted up in the corner, certainly not the policeman sitting outside the door in case Yohji tried to bust Aya out of here. It might not be a bad idea, seeing how little these people understood Aya. He wasn’t a danger to himself, just others! Aya didn’t commit suicide; he had been driven to the point of it because of Yohji. He might as well have slit Aya’s wrists himself. He had caused this, the moment he had decided to cheat on Aya because he had finally gotten fed up. His patience should have run out long before then, if that was the case. Yohji just couldn’t pick and chose a soul mate, and he knew Aya was meant from him at first sight.

"You can’t do this, not right now. You have to beat the shit out of me like usual. I want you to yell at me. Please," Yohji wasn’t above begging right now. It seemed very appropriate, in fact. He would love to hear Aya scream at him right now, would adore the way Aya’s brows furrowed when he was angry, would drop down and beg for the man to marry him the moment he woke up. Yohji wouldn’t be able to handle one more bad thing happening, not before he had the chance to tell Aya that he wanted to be with him forever. He didn’t want Aya to die in a hospital bed, so far away from their home, from him. Aya just had to wake up and start yelling at him, giving Yohji all the cruel words he deserved for being such an idiot.

Aya still didn’t give an answer, lips parted slightly to draw in that soft new breathe of fresh air. At least his body was living, even if Aya didn’t want to. Yohji just couldn’t allow it, wouldn’t let Aya be so fucking selfish as to die. They had gone through so much worse than this before, and Yohji wasn’t about to let it be ruined. He was fine; in fact, the alcohol had done a good deal to help him forget the incident all together…but how could Aya? He thought that he had made Yohji bleed and Aya knew the pain of rough sex better than anyone. He had been the victim of it too many times to ever be able to do it himself; it was shocking that Aya would ever be able to take the initiative and be on top for once. Yohji had managed to completely destroy any chance of that ever happening again, the emotion that had been there intimate and addictive even if the actual physical act had hurt like a bitch. He wanted to make love to Aya again, to lay there beside the man skin to skin and simply enjoy being alive for once.

Aya was the only person who could ever make him forget it all. Maybe it was because the long-haired man was such a mess on his own that he needed constant supervision, or Yohji had finally started depending on Aya. He had lost that ability to trust people, to know that someone was going to be there for him no matter how bad things had got…that sort of blind faith had been lost before he even hit puberty. Just as Aya had opened up to him, Yohji had ended up doing the same. It hadn’t been a conscious choice on Yohji’s part; he had just been such a horrible, ugly excuse for a human being before Aya came along. Then he had to start trying better if he was ever going to get a chance with the man. Yohji had started changing his lifestyle from day one, and suddenly he gave it all up for one night.

One fucking night.

"Aya, this is my fault. God…I’m so sorry," Yohji didn’t even know he was invoking the Lord’s name, having forgotten about the high powers that be until just now. He’d become Christian, hell, he’d become a fucking devil-worshipper and sacrifice someone on a stone altar if he could have his Aya back. They were supposed to get married, not have kids, and live together until they got old. Aya wasn’t supposed to suffer this much because of Yohji cheating on them. He should be the one with slit wrists. Yohji held a hand up to his forehead, tingling with numbness, the other clasped around the pale, slender fingers left free from bandages. Why did Aya have to be so damn sensitive and loving; have to freak out that badly at a little blood during mind-blowing sex? Did the stupid, beautiful bastard even think about how horrified Yohji was to see him lying in a puddle of his own blood? He had seen Aya get shot before, punched, kicked, even got a bottle broken over his head when one thug had gotten lucky in a dark alley…but that was nothing compared to what Yohji saw when Ken had finally managed to break the bathroom door down.

"Good morning, room 816!" was the unnecessarily cheerful greeting to a room that only had him and Aya in it. Yohji looked over at a female nurse in dull realization that it was indeed morning. A quick glance up and out of Aya’s window confirmed that the sun had already risen over the city, the streets below busy with traffic and people. Life was going on without Aya, and for some reason it just didn’t hold much interest to Yohji right now. He needed Aya to open his eyes instead of a visit from a slender, twenty-something girl with blonde hair and a nurse uniform on. She smiled in greeting, balancing a clipboard on her hip and a full, brand-new bag of blood in the other, while Yohji just stared. He was too tired to do anything else, like grey fuzz had replaced all the air in the room. He just couldn’t pay attention to another human being when Aya was unconscious and strapped to a hospital bed. He had to be there when Aya woke up again, had to reassure him that everything was all right so his lover wouldn’t start throwing a fit. The doctors had made it clear that not only were the leather straps to keep him from further suicide attempts when he was conscious again, any excessive movement right now and Aya would likely die. The doctors still made everything seem hopeful as long as Aya remained in their treatment and under twenty-four hour surveillance from hospital staff and the cop standing outside. Aya didn’t deserve this.

"Hello, Mr. Fujimiya, isn’t it a lovely day? May I ask who your friend is?" she giggled as she asked the comatose person on the bed questions he couldn’t possibly answer. Whoever said that humor could help ease the pain in serious situations should be shot. He felt himself turning around slowly, able to utterly hate someone within two sentences. He might have said his name, he might have told her to go to hell. Yohji wasn’t even sure if his mouth moved. The nurse was probably just trying to be nice, probably just thought Yohji would overlook it and answer her anyway. If Aya was awake right now, he’d have already slapped the girl for being so rude. He had a sudden desire to show her that there were monsters, human beings capable of such horrifying violence that she could never comprehend, even if she did work at a hospital. This wasn’t some patient to read off a clipboard and pretend to be personally caring to. This was his Aya.

Yohji put a hand down to his wrist, a little bit jolted when he only felt his bare wrist when he had been reaching for the wire hidden in his watch. That weapon had been hidden long ago, put in a box and on a shelf next to the other precisely labeled cardboard storage units of painful memories that Aya had already placed in the closet. Even that anal little habit was enough to bring a smile to Yohji’s face; make him wish that Aya would get up and start obsessively cleaning the place like he tended to do. He took a breath and managed to sit upright, forcing himself to pretend to be a decent person right now. All that good intention was lost the second he saw her lay the clipboard down on the bed next to Aya, two hands on the blood bag.

"What are you doing?" Yohji demanded, wanting to know exactly what was happening when she unhooked the near-empty bag on its metal stand. No one was going to just put something new into Aya without first explaining what it was. Yohji had learned that there was no such thing as being too paranoid, not in their line of work- fuck, their kind of lives. Just what had Aya done to deserve such a self-centered and dense son of a bitch? He shouldn’t have gone drinking. He should have stayed and talked things out like a man. Why couldn’t Aya have just…yelled at him more, break a bone or two? That would hurt less than seeing the man lying like the dead right now.

"I’m starting a new IV. Really, if you’re going to cause this much trouble over your friend-…" she started, holding up the plastic bag filled with dark-red liquid that strangely resembled tomato soup. The same color of the bathroom floor when Aya had been bleeding to death on top of it.

"He’s my fiancé!" Yohji corrected her angrily. He was half hoping that Aya would sit up and correct him; snap out something smart that left Yohji high and dry. The nurse immediately blushed and suddenly concentrated completely on changing the blood, unhooking Aya’s IV cord and switching it to the new bag. Yohji watched the redhead’s lax and frozen features for any sign of discomfort, but Aya might as well of been carved of marble. He sighed while the nurse picked up the finished bag and stammered for something polite to say.

"Oh…Oh, my. Well, then, I’ll just finish up here," she explained before peering at the various machinery around Aya’s bed and writing down what the monitors were displaying. Yohji frowned as the nurse obviously tried not to outright stare with her mouth open. For gay people becoming more and more accepted like Omi kept touting, Yohji still got a whole shit load of judging stares and wide eyes. She probably couldn’t wait to get out and tell the rest of the nurses about the couple in room 816. At least they would be able to get a laugh out the pathetic mess they were in. It was almost too horrible to be reality. Yohji was still having a hard time thinking that Aya had ended up committing suicide because of some sort of misunderstanding. Once again, he had to be right there for whenever Aya woke up; explain that everything had been his fault before they ended up fighting or making love. He sighed and went back to hunching over Aya’s bedside, everything below the waist long since gone numb from sitting there for so long. He didn’t even dare move.

Yohji didn’t bother to watch the nurse as she left, just made a fist to work some of the blood back into his fingers before he went back to smoothing down Aya’s hair.

* * *
"Wow. Um…No offense, but you look like hell," was the best Nagi could come up with as Omi came in late for class. The blonde blinked at him with bruised, blue eyes sunken into dark bruises, as if he had been stuck in his worst nightmare. It was almost shocking to see another expression beyond that usual, bright smile Omi always wore. And he was usually never this late coming to class, role having yet to be called by most of the students already there. Omi just shook his head before sliding into the chair next to him. Nagi turned back to the monitor even though he didn’t even have a single program running, it was better to stare at the plain college background on the desktop instead of Omi’s saddened face.

"It’s a long story," Omi finally announced, just to be polite when the silence was starting to stretch between them. It wasn’t like particularly wanted to listen to the boy’s problems. They were enemies, and the last time he had seen the blonde it had been down the aim of a crossbow, the blonde bloody and heavily injured from their final battle. And yet, Omi had shown him more consideration than anyone had in his whole life. Nagi had been dropped off at Esset headquarters by his own Mother when he had been too young to remember but old enough to start showing signs of psychokinetic ability; he learned that much from his background file when he had managed to steal a glimpse of it. Crawford had been the adult in charge of him since he was young, and in no way a father figure. Nagi half expected the American to suddenly appear and start beating him for even considering such. Bradley’s precognitive ability was a frightening thing that he didn’t even let his teammates know the full depth of. Nagi was a freak under Esset’s tutelage, one that had fought with Weiss long ago. And now the heir to the Kritiker organization was in the same class as him, giving him a bottle of aspirin without even asking a question.

"Omi, are you okay?" Nagi asked quietly, sighing as he realized he just couldn’t ignore the blonde looking so sad when Omi had already done so much for him. There wasn’t an answer and Nagi was beginning to think that he shouldn’t have even bothered before Omi’s shoulders started shaking. The other boy’s breathing changed and he hiccupped before throwing both hands up against his face. Nagi knew then that Omi was crying, but didn’t know what the hell could have started it in the first place. He wasn’t used to dealing with outright emotions, he was used to Schuldig raging and trying to rip his mind apart simply because Nagi was close enough to be a victim right then, to Farfarello laughing and licking his knife with an incoherent promise to make him cry, and Bradley’s aloof silence as he watched them all. Nagi had learned long ago that to show emotion was to show weakness, and in his household, it would get him killed. How could a man that carried the Takatori name…well, in blood, at least, since he insisted on Tsukiyono for now…be crying in the middle of a university computer lab?

"Don’t cry! I didn’t say anything to make you cry!" Nagi whispered fiercely, though it sounded more like he was asking a question. He knew that people were looking at him as Omi sniveled pathetically, didn’t dare look up at them as he put a hand on the boy’s shaking back awkwardly. Nagi wasn’t sure how to comfort another person, but had seen other people do similar motions before. It didn’t seem like Omi would take well to the usual berating that Nagi received whenever he tried complaining to Crawford, but Nagi had little else to go on. All he needed was for Omi to stop crying and then they could just pretend like this had never happened. Nagi didn’t need his fellow classmates staring at him, pointing and whispering all over again. School was the only place where he actually got to be ‘normal.’

"I’m about to start class. Mr. Naoe, why don’t you take you friend outside to compose himself?" the professor suggested in a firm voice. Nagi snapped his gaze up in shock to the almost-elderly woman that he had always thought of as kindly before, but now she was purely sadistic.

"He’s not my friend!" Nagi protested desperately while Omi started to cry harder beside him. Nagi was ready to pull all his hair out, wondering just why the blonde had chosen to fall apart right now, pretty sure that something bad had happened to make the boy lose that damn irritating smile. He should be happy that a member of Weiss so weak and vulnerable, should be agreeing so he could take Omi outside of the lab and choke the boy to death in the bathroom. Crawford would probably reward him for killing Omi. So, why was he trying to glare down this teacher for giving him such a perfect excuse to get Bombay alone, out of public? Why was the idiot crying in the first place, as if the computer in front of the shaking blonde had just read his deepest secrets aloud? Nagi realized he was tugging on his right ear with his right hand, a nervous habit that he thought Crawford had beaten out of him long ago.

"Well, whatever he is to you, he’s disrupting the rest of the class. Feel free to come back after you escort Mr. Tsukiyono outside," she offered before turning on her low-heeled shoes and going back up to the front, successfully cutting of any more argument. Nagi sighed heavily, noticing that a few of the stares had turned into superior grins, knew that they were thinking those two must be together with a nice amount of drama on top. They didn’t even know the half of it. Why did Omi have to be such a typical pretty boy, so easily moved to tears? Hadn’t he killed people before? This wasn’t the way assassins were supposed to act, former or not.

Nagi shook Omi by the shoulder and got no response, so he tried forcibly hauling the boy out of the chair. It turned out to be harder than Nagi had first thought, the blonde heavier and tougher to move despite his thin and delicate appearance. Omi wasn’t about to help him out either, hands still covering his eyes as if he could hide how upset he was. Nagi angrily grabbed his own side pack, slinging it over his shoulder before snatching up Omi’s bright-blue backpack as well. He doubted the boy would have the mind to pick it up himself, still slumped in his chair despite the teacher’s loud and irritated cough at how long it was taking them to leave. Nagi couldn’t believe that he was getting kicked out of class because of Omi! He snapped his hand around the boy’s upper arm, fingers digging into muscle as he dragged the blonde right out of his seat and toward the door. There ended up being a little bit of physic nudging as well when Omi stumbled and almost fell, but no one looking on would ever know. They were more interested in betting who was on top.

"What is your problem?" Nagi couldn’t help snapping that out harshly the second they were outside in the hallway, continuing to haul Omi toward the men’s bathroom. There was no answer through the snivels, which Nagi had been expecting as he threw open the door and tossed Omi inside. Just what had he done to deserve this? He’d rather baby-sit Farfarello than dealing with a crying Bombay that needed another shove just to get inside the bathroom instead of still standing at the door. Nagi was wondering if he should slap Omi as a fellow student exited a stall, giving them a long lingering look before washing his hands. Omi managed to compose himself enough to glare along with Nagi as the other person in the bathroom took his own sweet time with drying his hands and walking out into the hall.

"Well?" Nagi demanded with a shake while Omi sniffed and tried to actually wipe at the wetness on his face instead of just blubbering like an idiot.

"Aya…Aya-kun tried to kill himself yesterday," Omi whispered, and the shock was enough to shut Nagi up like a slap to the face. Abyssinian? The leader of Weiss had tried to kill himself? Nagi really couldn’t picture the man hanging himself or taking his shoes off, setting them down nicely next to each other, and then jumping off a bridge. Nagi could tell that Fujimiya had a few screws loose from the moment they had first fought, and certain that Schuldig wouldn’t ever be attracted to anyone remotely sane; but suicide? It just didn’t seem possible…and then Nagi numbly remembered how Schuldig had been bragging in the car that he was going to really destroy Weiss this time. That crazy German must have gone back to his old habits, mentally torturing Abyssinian onto the point of wanting to commit suicide. It was partly Nagi’s fault in the first place for ever telling Schuldig that half of Weiss was attending Tokyo University.

Why did he even feel the slightest bit guilty? Nagi had killed many people before; that was nothing new. Nobody had ever done the job themselves though, certainly not someone as prideful and aloof as that Aya Fujimiya. He hadn’t ever really had a history with one of Schwarz’s targets before, and he knew that Schuldig was doing this for purely personal reasons. He wasn’t being ordered to kill Weiss by the higher ups, it had nothing to do with Esset’s ultimate mission, and Crawford had just given it the okay! Now, Nagi had to deal with the fallout simply because Bombay was in his class. This wasn’t fair in the slightest.

"Uh…It’s…going to be okay?" Nagi tried, not really sure if that was going to be comforting or not. Omi just shook his head ‘no’ and sniffed like a second wave of tears was coming. Nagi couldn’t deal with that again, quickly rummaging through his own side pack for the Kleenex Crawford made him carry around. Funny how he never needed it until he was passing the little plastic packet over to his greatest enemy. Anything to keep the blonde from crying again. Nagi wanted to go back to class as soon as possible, shoving the tissue up under the boy’s nose before he could dare try crying again.

"Thanks," Omi muttered before taking the Kleenex, almost no hesitation at all. Nagi still jerked back from the brief contact it took to pass the item off, instinctively recoiling from his enemy. Except, this pathetic, sniveling boy before him now didn’t resemble Bombay in the slightest. Nagi could have ripped every limb from Omi’s body in one brief second, if he wasn’t such a pitiful mess right now. Nagi could relate slightly, only comparing the fact that Abyssinian was as stubborn as Schuldig. Schuldig would never try to kill himself, and as much as Nagi hated to admit it, the German did have his good points. The telepath had saved his life before on missions, though there was never a reason why or a word of thanks afterward. It was just part of the job, at least to Schuldig. To Nagi, it was all that he had.

"Oh…Thanks for my backpack, too," Omi laughed weakly when he saw it in Nagi’s hand. Omi took the tissue and pulled out one to blow his nose noisily with. Then another on to get the rest, using the palms of his hands to dry off his tears before returned the Kleenex. Omi threw the other two into the trash, sighing tiredly and fixing on Nagi with a feeble smile.

"I’m a real mess, aren’t I?" He asked, clear blue eyes sparkling against the bruised and swelling red of Omi’s face. Nagi forced himself to look down at the dirty and likely crawling-with-infection tile of the bathroom floor instead of that blindingly innocent expression.

"No, not really," Nagi didn’t even know why he answered, passing the backpack over to its owner without as much pause as before. It was just that he had seen Farfarello foaming at the mouth, cursing God and pissing himself, strapped up in a straight-jacket, and chained to the wall. It was those days that Schuldig wouldn’t even go down into the basement because he found the Irishman’s lunacy so repellent. There was nothing to do but wait it out until Farfarello calmed down or finally gave into dehydration, starvation, and exhaustion that he never even felt coming. Omi was a pristine example of humanity compared to that.

"Thanks for trying, Nagi-kun. Do you want to try going back to class? I kind of feel hungry now," Omi laughed weakly, trying to make a joke out of it and failing. Nagi would have never taken Bombay for a slacker, just like Fujimiya being a depressed and suicidal person. He was quite ready to tell Omi to do what he pleased, that it was no concern of his-…

When his stomach growled.

Nagi could swear his face was on fire while Bombay smirked and covered it with one hand when he glared harder at the other boy. And, then it turned into outright laughter, Omi struck with the giggles at Nagi’s expense. How utterly and terrifically embarrassing to do this in front of the boy! He had been trained better, could control himself better than this! He resisted the urge to clasp his own hands over his face and hide just like Omi had been doing. Nagi Naoe’s stomach didn’t make noises when he was facing off with his enemies. Bombay had been the one crying like a little baby only seconds ago! Nagi didn’t know what he should do: try to leave now before he humiliated himself further, or just kill the blonde before he could ever tell anyone of this!

"I’m sorry, I’m sorry, but your face-…" Omi tried to explain, and whatever glare Nagi gave next seemed to be more hilarious than the first to the boy. At least this was better than crying, if Nagi didn’t understand it very much. He realized then that Omi was laughing full-heartedly, enjoying it. There was no bitter sorrow underneath that life, the kind of jaded sarcasm that they all had developed to deal with the horror of their employment choice. Omi didn’t look like a killer in the slightest, just a normal college student- albeit a baby face and soft-looking blonde hair that was natural. His Esset file had said as much, though it only made Nagi doubt the boy was a real full-blooded Takatori even more. No one should be able to do a complete 180 in their life, just turn around and be a fresh as a newborn baby after staining their hands with blood. Omi was not an innocent, despite how naïve and open he seemed standing in the bathroom with a member of Esset’s top assassin unit.

"Come on, Nagi-kun. It’ll be my treat since you helped me get out of class," Omi offered innocently, obviously trying to get Nagi to come along. He was suspicious immediately, wondering just why it would be so important to Omi that he come and eat. He was probably plotting something, some kind of trap laid by Weiss earlier. Nagi wasn’t about to get fooled by a set of big, baby blue eyes and that sweet disposition. He had pulled the same act before with targets that didn’t expect a boy in a high school uniform to be an assassin. It was almost sad how easy it was to blink, fake a smile, and then psychically toss the target out the window from the thirty-third floor.

"But…But, we’re missing class now!" Nagi fumbled for an excuse, trying to pretend like he was still sucked in by this little act. Omi’s laughter tapered off after that, the boy scrubbing at his face one more time with the back of his hand. He smoothed back fluffy bangs and smiled magnificently, white teeth and everything.

"The teacher told us to go, didn’t she? Besides, is it like you’re learning anything new?" Omi’s voice held a bit of mockery and challenge in it. As if he too found the class to be drab and only covering what he already knew, just like Nagi. He had always thought himself the technician of Schwarz, even thought Schuldig had a little bit of talent for computers as well. The German hadn’t been forced to hone that particular skill unlike Nagi, Crawford leaning over his shoulder in disapproving silence as he was timed on how long it took him to hack into the national bank. Nagi was no beginner when it came to computers, but it was pathetically nice to hear the sweet, user-friendly version from this professor.

"Well, no… but, what about you?" Nagi finally returned, adjusting his bag strap and frowning as he realized they were arguing about this in the boy’s bathroom. Omi gave him an arrogant smirk that was just as irritating as Schuldig. However, Nagi suddenly didn’t hate Omi as much any more now that he saw that little bit of attitude; it was good to see something beyond ultra-happy or depressed to tears. For a moment Nagi had been worried that the boy didn’t have any emotions in better, wondering if Kritiker had trained their agents just as careless Esset. If the powers-that-be hadn’t pumped Farfarello full of drugs and experimented with mind control on him, it would be fair to say that the Irishman’s mental affliction could have been dealt with. Except now, he was just a berserker with no chance to ever being let out in public again unless it was to mass-murder. Nagi couldn’t help feeling the slightest bit of pity for his albino teammate at times, at least having the freedom to go to college classes. How could Omi understand that at all, when he seemed to be so carefree now? He obviously didn’t have the same hell to go home to as Nagi did.

"Ha! That class is a joke!" Omi laughed with the scorn of someone who was allowed to pick and chose their own class schedule. At least Nagi knew that it was a basic requirement, and that Omi would have to take this class to get into anything at a higher level, just like Nagi. Everyone did have to start somewhere, but Nagi was pretty sure he was still better than Omi. Schwarz had beat Weiss repeatedly in assassination, bombing, terrorism, extortion, hacking, and anything else someone in their profession should know; almost to the point that it was embarrassing that Weiss always managed to escape alive if not unscratched from any of their past run ins. Nagi had no doubt that he would overwhelm Omi with simple skill and knowledge alone; wouldn’t even need to show off how he had managed to focus his special ability enough to hit the keyboard keys to type faster. Even though Nagi had speared through a few keyboards before, it was a handy trick that had been worth learning.

"And you’re such a master of html-programming?" Nagi couldn’t help getting drawn into it, finding himself more bothered by the former Weiss agent than he should be. It was just so damn annoying to see Bombay so at easy and cheerful when it was being directed at him. They were as opposite as two people could be, had suffered wounds because of the other before, and Omi was offering him a snack. Nagi’s stomach rumbled again at the mere thought of food, yet one more reason why he should just be returning to class immediately instead of standing here and bickering with the kid that had been crying only moments ago. Omi Tsukiyono was like a little child, temperament changing quickly and just as trusting. It was like no one had ever told him not to accept candy from strangers.

"Oh, ho-ho, just who do you think you’re talking to? I was the one that broke into Crawford’s home computer, you know," Omi laughed proudly, waving a hand as if that would be enough. Nagi couldn’t help a smile of his own, knowing exactly how protected Crawford’s computer was. The man kept all of the truly important files on a laptop anyway to prevent such incidents with hackers like Omi. Nagi didn’t know what sort of useful information Omi could have stolen from Bradley’s computer, but it must not have helped either way with the poor showing Weiss made repeatedly during all their fights. Once again, Nagi couldn’t believe that Weiss was still alive and around to screw-up what little peace and normalcy he could find in his life.

"Probably because you couldn’t hack mine," Nagi snapped back, wondering just what it was about the other boy that was already getting under his skin. There was a bitter ‘hmpf!’ that let Nagi know he was spot on. He felt a bit of smirk sneaking across his face even though he had long since been trained to not show that sort of emotion. It was just that Omi was smiling so openly, and he had the same sort of history as Nagi did. What exactly could be the difference between them? They were enemies, but Nagi was slowly realizing that they had more in common than he would have ever imagined. They stood there in a bit of awkward silence afterward as Nagi resized the boy in front of him.

"Well, instead of just standing here, why don’t we go to the cafeteria?" Omi insisted, tilting his head to the side as if he was flirting. Nagi couldn’t read that deliriously happy expression on the boy’s face, eyes narrowing as he lamely remembered that this was probably a trap.

"Uh…" Nagi started to argue, but realized he didn’t really have anything to say immediately. Omi already grabbed his hand, the first human contact Nagi had in years. He doubted that Omi even knew what he was doing as the blonde led Nagi out of the bathroom, his hand warm and soft like a child’s. Nagi understood the pain of a baby face, but Omi had all the calluses of a five-year-old. He shook his head as they were out in the hallway, vaguely noticing the people around them giving them strange looks, and tried to pull his hand away. Was Bombay’s ultimate plan to embarrass the living daylights out of him? Nagi had already heard enough snide comments after being forced to take Omi out of class, and he certainly didn’t want the people walking around them seeing him holding hands with another boy. Omi tightened his grip when Nagi tried to shake it out, a small look of apology crossing his face.

"Come on, I heard your stomach growling in class before. I’m going to get you lunch as a peace-offering," Omi could lay the guilt on without even trying. How was Nagi supposed to refuse someone who was so honestly…stupid? He couldn’t sense the slightest bit of malice from the boy, even though he was trying to. Omi really did think that they would be able to settle old grudges over some food. Not that Nagi wasn’t usually hungry, or that he was the slightest bit impressed that Omi had noticed that his stomach had been making noises while they were inside the computer lab; the boy had always been humming the latest pop song that Nagi had never heard. Maybe he wasn’t the simpleton Nagi assumed the boy was, but he couldn’t be suspicious either when he was grinning like a damn idiot child.

He allowed himself to be dragged toward the cafeteria, a little bit dizzy and confused. He could hear Crawford’s orders echoing in his head while Omi made some comment about the hot weather. He should be flattening the boy against the wall, not letting himself get dragged between two swinging door and into the large cafeteria at the school. There were several shops boasting different sorts of hot cuisine to chose from as well as an open cooler of soft drinks and juices and a salad bar. Omi finally let go of Nagi hand to drift over to the display of pre-made sandwiches and plastic-covered bentos. He sighed in relief, fingertips already going numb after being in contact with Omi’s for so long. Nagi licked his lips, looking around nervously while the boy next to him finally settled on a turkey sandwich. Trying to be considerate of the boy’s wallet even though Nagi wasn’t really sure why, he went for the ham sandwich priced exactly the same.

How sad would it be to admit that he had never had a ham sandwich before?

Crawford just hadn’t allowed it. Ham didn’t have the protein or carbohydrates suitable for a person with psychic gifts, but Nagi believed it was the obstinate American’s personal dislike of it. Dinner was usually steak, rice or potatoes, and then a strange rotation of steamed, green vegetables to keep things interesting. Nagi had never even been in the cafeteria before, not once had he had picked out a lunch because he thought something might to taste good. He should have been bitter because of it, instead of being unable to repress that little bubble of excitement growing within him when they moved over to the drinks. Omi took a plastic bottle of Pepsi while Nagi tried to be cool and dangerously picked out lighter-colored Mountain Dew. He immediately checked Omi’s face, hoping that he wasn’t doing anything wrong. He was just doing his best to imitate Omi, having chosen his very first soft drink.

Nagi wondered if he might actually get full for once as well when Omi also grabbed a small bag of potato chips. They were the one concession to junk food that Crawford allowed, but Nagi had a sneaking suspicion that it was because Schuldig loved them. The German could eat a whole bag by himself without even batting an eye, sometimes getting drunk enough to share with Nagi. He didn’t much understand why the man like them so much, but Schuldig was nothing if not obsessive. For the most part, it was unspoken that potato chips were Schuldig’s and heaven help the fool that tried to steal any. He eventually chose Fritos, a brand Nagi liked but Schuldig didn’t really prefer, so he rarely ever got to have. He tried not to look pathetically grateful as Omi paid for their lunch, an assassin slowly warming up to another just because the blonde was getting him something to eat. Nagi wished that he could have a little more control over his appetite, but in the end, he really was ruled by his stomach. He paused, wondering if he should say ‘thank you’ while Omi passed a bill over the register and was given back his change.

They gathered up their lunches respectively after going through the cashier, Omi pointing to an open table in the relative calm seating of midmorning. No one was there to fill up every possible chair and booth like at lunch, the few times Nagi had walked by and looked in. Omi sat down first, setting his food down before his backpack as well, placing it down on the ground beside his chair. Nagi carefully took the seat directly opposite of Omi, even though there were four in all around the small table. He just couldn’t risk getting that close to Omi again, not when his hand was still tingling from the brief contact he had with the other boy. He put his own pack on one of the empty seats, hoping that it would be able to head-off at least half of the attempts the boy might possibly make to get closer. He couldn’t let himself get drawn into Bombay’s trap…

"So, Nagi, what’s it like living at home?" Omi asked as he ripped open his own bag of potato chips. Nagi tried to have the good manners to wait a bit, not wanting to look the bag in front of the other boy even if Omi was already grabbing a small handful and shoving it into his mouth all at once. He couldn’t believe Om-Bombay, Nagi tried to correct himself back into thinking that Omi was his enemy-Bombay was trying so transparently to get information out of him.

"Fine, I guess. Why?" Nagi asked suspiciously, hoping to turn the questioning around. He ending up waiting as Omi finished chewing his mouthful. Nagi tentatively unwrapped his sandwich, paranoid it might be poisoned before he realized this was just a school, there was no way Omi could have known ahead of time what he was going to chose to eat, and it had been saran-wrapped until just a second ago. He sighed, trying to calm nerves that were far too much on edge to let him even sit back in the chair. Omi swallowed, cleared his throat, and strove to explain himself.

"I was just wondering, you know, with Crawford being a precognitive and all... Does he ever have visions of the milk going bad, or if the mail is going to be late?" There was real curiosity in his voice as Omi waited for an answer with big, wide puppy-eyes.

Nagi laughed at the outright absurdity of it. Even if Crawford did have such mediocre visions of the future, he doubted if the man would ever tell them. Though it did explain why there was always enough toilet paper, fresh fruit in the refrigerator, and the batteries for the fire alarms never ran out. Nagi kept on chuckling, able to picture Crawford waiting for them all to leave before doing those small little chores. Even he had to agree with Schuldig when the psycho called Crawford ‘anal,’ though usually it was with a few more colorful words than that. He had never once dared to imagine such of their leader before, but the thought was amusing.

"Wow, I think that’s the first time I’ve ever seen you smile, Nagi-kun," Omi somehow managed to make it a compliment. Nagi immediately tried to stopping laughing but for some reason just…couldn’t. Omi smiled his own encouragement; the first time anyone had ever allowed him to laugh- had even instigated it in the first place. Nagi suddenly felt his heart lift, relaxing a bit as he realized there was just no threat coming from the boy. He could sit there and be suspecting the worst the whole time or simple take this all at face-value, because that seemed to be all Bombay was worth. Not a trace of assassin was left on him, no killing aura whatsoever. Nagi almost felt bad that he had been suspecting the boy in the first place. Just what kind of fool cried in public? Nagi had done a great many things that he would regret, but at least he hadn’t fallen that low. He was still a man, after all. Maybe, in this college setting outside of professional murder, he could be friends with Omi.

All that naïve thought was thankfully cut short by Omi’s cell phone ringing. The boy threw himself down to dig through his backpack and managing to fish the ringing electronic out just before it got annoying.

"Hello?" Omi answered politely, rolling his eyes and shrugging to Nagi in apology. He just opened up his soda while the blonde waited for an answer, taking a quiet sip as he tried not to look like he was eavesdropping on the boy. Nagi blinked down at the taste, sweeter and lighter than the few coca-colas Schuldig and Crawford would spontaneously buy and stock up in the refrigerator. Crawford gave a very nice explanation about the soda having sugar and caffeine for quick energy since their psychic powers required more than a normal human being; while Schuldig poured a vodka, tequila, Jack Daniel’s, Wild Turkey… just about anything with an alcoholic content above 0.01 % and mixed it in with the soda for a little bit of flavor. He rather liked this Mountain Dew and suddenly wanted to tell Omi that, hating whoever had called and interrupted them.

"Ken? Yes, I’m at school, but I-…" Omi started, remarkably familiar for once without that usual ‘-kun’ he gave everyone. Nagi frowned, placing ‘Ken’ as Siberian from Weiss. Just why was he calling Omi during what should have been the middle of class? He frowned, unable to enjoy the meal as long as this conversation was going on in front of him. He wondered just how close Siberian and Bombay were, felt angry when usually he didn’t feel anything at all. Nagi hated the fact that he was getting so worked up about this, despising the way Omi was listening intently to Siberian.

"What?" Omi suddenly became serious, both hands going to the cell phone as he turned to the device as if to listen more intently. Nagi watched, feeling his frown deepen as he was further ignored. The sound of the people eating around him, slapping trays on tables, gossiping about their petty lives, turning pages in a book as they studied for a test; it was all suddenly intolerable to Nagi. He had been distracted by Omi before, but now the blonde was busy speaking with Ken on the phone. Nagi was bitterly reminded that they were from two different worlds, that Omi was actually friends with his teammates and no longer had to kill anyone. It was so unfair.

"Are you kidding me?" Omi suddenly snapped, his mouth dropping open in obvious disgust. Nagi had to listen in after that, unable to catch anything beyond the static buzz of a male voice on the other line. Something serious was happening, but Nagi didn’t see how Weiss would possibly be able to top their leader trying to kill himself. Nagi didn’t know why he was thinking about it so much himself, shaking his head and sighing. He had been in Schwarz for too long; was forgetting how to think like a sane person.

"Come pick me up right away! I’ll be waiting out front," Omi rushed out, finally pulling the cell phone away and snapping it shut. The device went back into the boy’s bag and before Nagi could say anything, Omi was standing up from his chair. He slung the backpack on, actually taller for once as he looked down at Nagi with a nervous expression on his face, wavering somewhere between a smile and tears. Nagi didn’t want to see the boy cry again.

"Nagi-kun, I’m so sorry, but the hospital wants to talk to us about Aya-kun," Omi apologized for his leader trying to kill himself. The news must not be exactly good if the boy looked this upset. Nagi didn’t want to ask any more details, knowing that it would probably just upset the blonde to explain what was going on. He would rather not seem like he even cared. He wasn’t about to be charmed over because of a few tears and a free meal. Nagi was missing a class for this in the end. There were plenty of reasons to be angry at this selfish Kritiker agent!

"It’s okay," Nagi answered back, surprising himself when he actually meant it. Bombay was likely the nicest person he had ever met in his whole life. And to think that he had almost killed the blonde several times over during their fights. Omi smiled gratefully at being excused, so blindingly sincere and polite that Nagi almost couldn’t stand it. Assassins weren’t supposed to be this damn nice! They were all crazy, blood-thirsty, remorseless killers; at least everyone in Esset was. Kritiker could not be any different; they were still an underground organization that wasn’t exactly working on the right side of the law.

"Let’s do this again sometime, okay? Please don’t feel bad about finishing lunch without me," Omi waved before he turned around and left. Just got to blow through the crowd and out to the front of the school with all the freedom of the wind. Nagi was so envious that it actually hurt.

* * *

"What exactly is going on?" Omi asked as Ken handed him the extra helmet. He hadn’t liked the way his boyfriend had sounded on the phone, that upset and impatient tone that was usually reserved for criminals or Yohji when the blonde had been sleeping in past noon once again. Omi smoothed his hair back and pulled the helmet over his head, buckling the strap underneath his chin. Ken just frowned as he crossed both his arms, still balanced on his motorcycle and waiting for Omi to climb on.

"Those doctors said they found something ‘interesting’ about Aya. And we might wanna find a lawyer," Ken spat out as he quoted the words again, obviously pissed. Ken was grinding his teeth again just remembering whatever conversation he must have had with the doctors before calling him. Omi shook his head, trying to make sense of that. What could possibly be interesting about Aya trying to commit suicide? It was disgusting, horrifying, and made Omi doubt everything he had thought he knew about Aya. He had always just been so strong and independent- and not the slightest bit prone to self-mutilation.

"Why?" Omi finally came to the piece of mind to ask Ken just what that was supposed to mean. Were Aya’s hospital bills going to be so large that the doctor wanted a lawyer to assure payment? He adjusted his backpack straps while Ken shook his head angrily.

"I don’t fucking know! They won’t let me see the doctor unless I’ve ‘calmed down,’ so I want you to come with me," Ken growled out, still not calm enough to talk with a group of hospital officials. Ken did have a temper that was hard to control, and Omi could very well imagine that he flipped out when the doctors had talked about Aya like he was any other patient. Aya may be personal to them, but to those doctors, he was just another case; a job. It was hard to accept, but there was no point in getting angry over something they would never be able to change. Sometimes even Omi hated how understanding he could be at some times.

"Oh, Ken…Just let me do the talking when we get there, okay?" He sighed tiredly. As nice as it would be to hear the doctors be told off by the brunette, it probably wouldn’t help the situation. Whatever it might be. Ken was still being pretty vague. Omi just climbed over the back of the motorcycle to settle down in the seat behind Ken. He put two hands lightly on either side of Ken’s body, not really needing to hold on yet since Ken still hadn’t started the bike. He was still grumbling about medical professionals and a few choice positions they could put themselves in. Omi shook his head, knowing how long Ken could stay mad when he wanted to.

"I was hoping you would. I hate those smart-ass doctors," Ken snapped back, slipping his visor down and leaning over the body of his motorcycle. The motor revved up again and Ken revved it once, always having to do a little show before they ever got anywhere. Then they were off, a large vibration shaking through his whole body and heated metal on the inside of his legs. Ken was lucky enough to be wearing jeans. Omi didn’t know how Ken could like using the motorcycle for general travel. You couldn’t really talk over the engine and wind, and there was no radio to listen to.

They passed under a green light and Ken suddenly picked up speed, his tires going right over the spotted white lines dividing the double lane as he inched between two cars. Omi had to hold on tighter then, half afraid he might fall off when they got caught in the pocket of air between two moving vehicles. But Ken just pushed through and went faster, finally getting a lane of his own. Well, they could go faster than regular traffic at any rate. Omi leaned deeper into the plain t-shirt that was already slightly damp from this heat, the athlete already sweating just from the ride from the hospital. Omi didn’t mind. He still pressed his face up between Ken’s shoulders as they went along the straight street, holding on tight. He was so glad that the older man was there. Ken was his family, along with Yohji and Aya. They were the only ones that Omi had ever really cared for, and he couldn’t stand the thought of losing a single one of them.

Even though it was a bright, perfectly sunny morning, Omi still help couldn’t feel guilty. He shouldn’t have just been fooling around with Ken downstairs when Aya had been going crazy on the second floor, shouldn’t have blabbed to Nagi about his problems, shouldn’t have even of gone to school today! Yohji had yet to leave the hospital, and Omi could barely stand sitting there for an hour in the silent room. The machines kept on beeping, Yohji didn’t say a word, and Aya was simply breathing. That was it, nothing more. Omi held onto his very live and warm Ken a little bit tighter, silent the rest of the trip back to the hospital. He didn’t want to think about the countless things the doctors could want to talk to them about; something wrong with the fake medical charts Omi had made long ago for them in case some horrible accident like this happened, Aya having a relapse, Yohji had finally gone crazy…

Omi held onto Ken perhaps a little too hard all the way until they finally pulled up into the hospital parking lot. Ken turned off his bike and put the helmets in the small storage compartment underneath the seat, locking it up and pocketing the keys while Omi waited impatiently. He knew that Yohji and Ken were in no state of mind to calmly listen to a doctor while he talked distantly about Aya’s condition. Omi wasn’t really feeling up to it himself, but there was no one else to do it for him. That didn’t mean that he couldn’t hold Ken’s hand as they walked into the hospital and checked in at the front desk to visit Aya. The elderly receptionist actually directed them to a different room, one of the doctor’s offices. Apparently there had been a message that the doctor wanted to talk to them as soon as Ken returned.

Omi desperately hoped things weren’t as bad as they seemed.

They rode the elevator up to the third floor in silence, Ken clearly nervous. That only made Omi feel worse. He didn’t have anything to depend on expect himself, taking a deep breath as the elevator doors ‘dinged’ before opening. They walked down the hallway together, Omi absently reading the names on the doors before they finally came to the one marked as ‘Kido.’ That was the doctor the receptionist had told them to go meet, so Omi gave Ken one last, hushed warning to not get upset before he knocked on the door. There was a ‘come in,’ so Omi opened up the door and stepped into an office that had no walls. Practically every inch of useable space had been dedicated to storing books, more medical texts in here than Omi had even known were written. There was a small, potted tree that was trying to grow in the middle of this chaos and a large wooden desk. Two chairs were placed in front the desk, a middle-aged man with a trimmed beard and thick hair. He had a set of wide-rimmed glasses on, blinking up over them to study his guests.

"Hello, we’re here about Aya Fujimiya. I’m Omi and this is-…" Omi started out with polite introductions, hoping that a smile would be enough to smooth things over.

"Ah, Mr. Hidaka. I trust we’re all settled down now," the man finally pointed at Ken as he placed the soccer-player in his memory. Omi put a hand to Ken’s arm while the brunette ground his teeth together and did his best to just take the small insult. He really was going to have to be rewarded after all this. He wondered just what sort of fight they had before for Ken to stick out in this obviously busy man’s memory. He had a large array of files and open books on his desk, surprisingly disorganized for being a doctor. Omi could only guess that he must be some sort of big-shot with enough patients as is. He didn’t know if he wanted Aya to be in the care of a man like this.

"Please, come in and sit down," he offered at last. Omi nodded his head to Ken, tiredly encouraging his boyfriend to play nice. They came in slowly, Omi shrugging his backpack off yet again as leaving it on the floor as he sat in the soft and well-padded chair. It was remarkably comfortable…before Omi wondered why he was getting distracted by nice chairs. They came here to talk about Aya. Ken fell heavily onto the chair next to him, slapping both hands down on the armrest and all but growling at the doctor. Omi reminded himself to smile, smile, like this was some sort of bizarre play.

"Well, honestly, I was waiting for Mr. Kudoh to leave before bringing this up, but as a doctor I cannot remain silent," Kido didn’t wait to get down to business, confirming Omi’s suspicion that the doctor was already swamped with other things to take care of. Aya committing suicide wasn’t really a shocking thing to him, just enough sympathy in his voice to not be outright unmoved by this. The doctor went silent after that, leaning back in his chair as if this had suddenly turned into a guessing game. Ken raised an eyebrow, obviously having not even been told this much. Omi wondered why he would want Yohji to leave, when Aya was in such a sorry state. He hadn’t been able to bear seeing his friend strapped down to a hospital bed like some sort of maniac. Aya had just been…upset at the time. Omi sighed as he realized he wasn’t going to be able to come up with any fast excuses as to why Aya had been motivated to slit his wrists open. He couldn’t very well say that the man had fallen on a knife- twice.

"Yes?" Omi finally asked when the doctor stayed silent. He passed a look to Ken, thankful that the man had been silent through that awkward moment where Omi had just been trying to figure out what to say. He wasn’t feeling clever right now, no lies he could weave when something was so very clearly wrong with Aya. He didn’t even want to start on Yohji, but he could hope that the older blonde would go right back to normal once Aya woke up. Until then, they just had to make sure that Aya was getting the best help possible.

"From the brief examination we gave before surgery, Mr. Fujimiya has numerous scars and outright disfigurement on his body," he announced, a sudden chill running up Omi’s spine at the words. Of course Aya had scars on his body, gunshot wounds, permanently skinned elbows and knees, whip-marks, large puckered lines of flesh from working as an assassin all those years. There had been many times when Aya had been injured while on the job…on a few that he knew had came from the man’s brief time as a prostitute. Omi preferred not to think about that time at all; and Yohji was probably the only one who knew how bad those more intimate scars were. Well, him and whatever the hospital staff had managed to uncover.

"Some of them are very old and points to the exact reason why Mr. Fujimiya tried to commit suicide," Doctor Kido seemed to like playing detective on the side. He was being deliberately vaguely, crossing his fingers together and resting his arms down on the desk as he studied them both. The man was obviously waiting for someone to confess something, for one of them to just babble out every bad thing that had ever happened to Aya. Omi doubted the doctor would believe him even he did tell the man the truth. He smiled weakly, waiting for the good doctor to give his prognosis.

"Has Mr. Kudoh ever hit Mr. Fujimiya before?" Doctor Kido finally asked in a very serious voice.

Ken laughed. He was howling and slapping his knees, tears spilling down his cheeks like the doctor had just made the funniest joke Ken had ever heard before. It would have been, under different circumstances. Omi coughed and uselessly tried to get Ken’s attention. They were the only ones in this room who knew how silly it was to hear the doctor accuse Yohji of hitting Aya but to this man, this was deadly serious. Omi hadn’t had a chance to explain that Aya and Yohji were romantically involved, that Aya meant the world to the man. That was why he still had yet to leave Aya’s bedside- in fact, Omi was pretty sure Yohji hadn’t even slept yet. They were going to need to do something about that soon as well.

"Listen, buddy, if anyone was going to abuse Aya, it’d be me," Ken managed to say the worst thing possible when he stopped laughing enough to speak, pointing his thumb back at himself. Omi groaned, slapping a hand to his face at the man’s insensitivity. Hadn’t they agreed that he was going to do the talking? There was only dead silence in the room after that and the soccer player opened his mouth to add on to his first statement.

"Ken-kun!" Omi blasted out before Ken could say anymore. "Please, Doctor Kido, he’s an idiot. Let me assure you that none of us has- or ever would- hit Aya," Omi pleaded, ignoring the hurt look Ken sent his way. Right now they needed sincerity and deference, two things that Ken was severely lacking in. He still had yet to even call the man a doctor or sit upright in the chair, his body language telling the man to ‘fuck off’ even if Ken wasn’t saying so aloud. Ken shot him a glare that made Omi even angrier, even if he knew that the brunette was upset. He was just trying to keep the hospital thinking that Aya was a domestic abuse victim and Ken was announcing that he’d gladly hit the man. Ken should have just kept his mouth shut in the first place.

"Well, then, would you care to explain where Mr. Fujimiya got those scars?" Doctor Kido asked again, absolutely relentless. Omi was caught with his face frozen in the middle of a smile while his mind raced around like an animal. What would Aya have done to gain such scars; and it certainly wasn’t because of any sort of abuse. Ken crossed his arms, frowning as he clearly waited for Omi to answer. It wasn’t very helpful, only another pressure as Ken grudgingly and bitterly left it all up to him. Doctor Kido was almost waiting, the light hitting the glasses just right as to hide the man’s eyes from him. Omi’s mouth started moving ahead of any conscious thought.

"He…used to serve in the military," Omi lied with a faked, sad expression on his face. Ken didn’t make any noise, but he could tell that the brunette thought that the doctor wasn’t going to buy it. Ken still followed along and tried to look sad about it, frowning and uncrossing his arms. Omi frowned even deeper at the weak show and hoped that the doctor would take it as some sort of painful reaction. They were soldiers, in some ways, warriors used to much harder times than any human being should ever have to go through, should ever need to. That might help also explain why Aya had been throwing such a fit when he had first woken up, flashbacks a common thing among military men.

"Oh, is that so?" the doctor’s answer seemed hollow with doubt, leaning back in his plush chair. He started pressing his thumbs together, tapping the digits as the man seemed to actually contemplate that answer. Omi could tell that the doctor was considering something else entirely, studying them both and drawing some sort of conclusion that he didn’t like at all. It was a good thing that Yohji wasn’t here or else the man might really lose it. Ken was almost there himself, eyes narrowing at the doctor as he realized along with Omi that they were being judged.

"I would like to speak to Mr. Fujimiya personally when he wakes up. Until then, the policeman and the straps remain in place," the doctor announced without any remorse, pointing a finger in warning at Omi when he started to open his mouth to argue. They were excused then and Omi followed Ken as the man went outside grumbling loudly about arrogant bastards with medical degrees. Omi just sighed, looking at his watch. They still had a little time before the visiting hours closed for lunch, so they might as well stop by and see how Aya was doing. Omi did his best not to cry while Ken stomped on ahead with his hands shoved angrily into his pockets, both of them trying to be strong and failing.

* * *

Nagi was full for the first time in his life. He had to sit there and simply bask afterward, even though the school cafeteria was loud and annoying. It was a wonderfully lethargic and heavy weight settling in his stomach, demanding that Nagi take a nap. He pulled out his own cell phone instead and called Schuldig. The German would be able to tell if he had reported his meeting with Bombay immediately or tried to wait. Schuldig would do his best to read his mind, graze off the slightest bit of mental leakage no matter how hard Nagi tried. It was better to just obey orders and keep his head down. He lived longer and it would hurt less, numbly bringing up Schuldig’s number and dialing before the phone began ringing.

He was thankful that Abyssinian was Schuldig’s chosen target.

Omi would be safe, as long as Nagi made sure not to grow fond of the other boy. If he allowed himself to feel anything other than pure hatred for the boy, Schuldig would pick up on it. And the German liked to make sure that everyone else was miserable. It was like his hobby- a horrible obsession to make sure that Nagi had nothing in his life to be happy about. He didn’t know why, but the thought of Schuldig killing Omi because Nagi had started to become friends with him just didn’t sit well. He wasn’t supposed to be happy, wasn’t supposed to have a personal life; he was just an agent. Crawford had made it clear that the sooner he just accepted that, Nagi would be able to become a true member of Esset. His freedom would always be limited, his status would never change, forced to serve underneath some other idiot if Crawford should ever die. It was hard to try and repress every individual thought and opinion, to just stay silent all these years because that was the safest choice. He didn’t want to end up like Farfarello, beaten out of what little sanity he had in the first place. For some reason, the thought of Omi being captured by Schuldig just on a whim went through his head- Nagi was certain that someone as seemingly innocent as Omi wouldn’t last long. The German was nothing if not unpredictable and insane; always ready to jump from one mood to another.

Nagi found himself shaking a bit, trying so hard to guard his thoughts as he stood outside in the bright sun. Waiting for Schuldig to come pick him up pick through his brain was almost as bad as the act itself. He was getting sleepy from being so full and it was simply damn hot outside. Nagi just had his old uniform that Crawford had bought because it was ‘for education.’ That was the only thing he could ever depend on Crawford for paying, and beyond that he was on his own. He still didn’t have any other clothing different from the high school beyond a few shirts that were decent, thrown out in obsessive piles by the resident German clotheshorse. All Schuldig had to do was walk down the street and have everyone that passed empty out their wallets to buy himself a new wardrobe. Which, in fact, was something he did on a near-weekly basis. Sometimes the German would even buy clothes just to throw at Farfarello, who delighted in tearing them up, an expensive toy for an insane man. Nagi hoped that if he just reported what he had heard today, he might be saved from Schuldig’s threat of leaving him in the same room with the Irishman for some indefinite amount of time.

A large, black town’s car pulled up in front of him, Nagi vaguely recognizing the vehicle from the parking lot in the mansion. It was expensive enough to draw a few eyes of the people passing by, making Nagi swallow nervously. He steeled up his thoughts, wiped the sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his uniform, and opened up the door. He could smell Schuldig’s cologne already clogging up the car along with a new cigarette as the driver lit up. Nagi climbed in and sat in the front seat, closing the door and putting his back down at his feet before pulling his seatbelt on…and finally noticed that Schuldig was looking extremely good today with a pair of black leather pants and a thin, sleeveless tank that was nearly transparent, a touch of green to the skin-tone coming through. He had on several large rings, a collection of thin silver bracelets around one wrist, and a nice rosary as if to mock the God the German refused to believe in along with anyone foolish enough to follow the religion. Schuldig’s hair was back in a high ponytail drawn through the opening in the back of a white baseball hat with a team logo that Nagi didn’t know; along with large, black sunglasses that contrasted sharply with the outfit Schuldig had on today. It didn’t do much hide the discoloration around his right eye and cheek, visible swelling coming on. The German’s nose was still bleeding a bit, and Nagi doubted the man was even aware of it. Crawford must have found the vase that Schuldig had broken last night. Nagi hadn’t told the American about Schuldig threatening him in the hall, certain that he would get in as much trouble for complaining as Schuldig would for delaying Nagi in finishing a job.

"Well?" Schuldig snapped as Nagi finished buckling his seatbelt, obviously not having a good morning. The blood from his nose finally oozed down to his lip and Schuldig wiped at it angrily with the back of his knuckles, glaring at Nagi through the sunglasses. He still didn’t feel the touch of Schuldig’s mental fingers trying to pry thoughts out of his mind, so Nagi took it as a good thing. As long as he played his cards right, Schuldig might just be too tired to take any of his anger out.

"Abyssinian is in the hospital. Apparently he tried to commit suicide-…" Nagi had to pause after that, because Schuldig was laughing too loudly to even start the car. He slapped the steering wheel in his amusement, and Nagi thought it was best to just shift around in the passenger’s seat while Schuldig got this out of his system. The German was giggling as he started the engine at last, turning the volume down the power metal that blasted out from the speakers from when Schuldig had last been listening to the music. Nagi just smiled weakly when the orange-haired man snapped his gaze back over to him, grinning almost ferally.

"So, what are our lovely Kätzchen doing?" Schuldig prompted again, but this time it was with a little bit of good humor. Nagi still knew it was too soon to feel relieved, starting to feel butterflies in his stomach- but maybe, just maybe. Schuldig would drive him home without trying to kill Nagi somewhere along the way. He took a breath, remembering exactly what Omi had told him. If he remained close enough to the truth, Schuldig would be able to tell and would likely leave him alone. He had only tried lying to Schuldig once before, when he had been younger and stupider…and that was all it had taken for Nagi to be scared witless of ever doing it again. So, why was he trying to figure out a way to tell the facts that wouldn’t get Bombay killed?

"Bombay and Siberian are gathering there now, along with Balinese. I’d suggest waiting until hospital visiting hours are over and-…" Again, Nagi was interrupted, but this time it was by a hand slapped down over his jaw, the large palm covering his nose and mouth.

"I will crush your face if you ever dare to suggest something to me again. You just tell me what you hear, you fucking tool," Schuldig ordered in an icy tone, emotion drained from his face and his eyes no less frightening for being hidden by sunglasses. Nagi couldn’t give an answer gagged like this, couldn’t even shake his head to let Schuldig know that he understood. He waited with his air restricted and his thoughts painfully calm until Schuldig got tired of intimidating him. Eventually his jaw was released hard enough to slam his head against the window, followed by a vicious string of German and English curses that Nagi didn’t really think he deserved. Whenever Crawford punished Schuldig for the latest little bit of rebellion the man showed, it immediately turned into the German taking out his frustration on Farfarello or him. The insanity didn’t help matters either, since it only made Schuldig more unpredictable than he already was. For being an assassin team, their personal relationships were absolutely ridiculous. Nagi couldn’t say ‘non-existent,’ because that would imply that Schuldig didn’t drag him away from his homework by his hair simply because the utter psycho wanted someone to make him something to eat. All the servants Crawford had employed were smart enough to hide from the telepath, a little trick Nagi didn’t have the freedom to try; which only doubled the abuse Nagi was treated to everyday. He was nothing more than a tool to them, not a single personal opinion or thought ever worth anything. Nagi was nothing, at least tried to be, because that way he was either ignored or simply passed up because he wasn’t interesting enough. Nagi preferred it that way.

And to think how easy it would be to use his powers to simply flatten the car around himself, with Schuldig in it.

Except, Schuldig gave him a dangerous glare from around the side of his sunglasses for just having thought that. So, Nagi went back to meek little thoughts of what his homework might be, if there were going to be any jobs when they got home, anything but Om-…Bombay and Weiss. Schuldig still was staring though, seeming to take forever to just finally put his hands back on the wheel and pulled out without a care for any other traffic. Nagi quickly put his seatbelt on and tried not to wonder what kind of life Weiss must have at home for that blonde kid to be so damn happy. He could bet that it was nothing like this.

* * *
Yohji was startled back to reality by a familiar hand on his shoulder. He followed the arm up to Ken’s face, blinking dumbly for a moment as he wondered just what the man was doing here. He had managed to forget that other people existed beyond the second nurse who came in, blushing and timid, obviously informed about his relationship with the patient. Still, she was quiet enough to ignore, so Yohji found himself liking her better than the first nurse that had come in. He just didn’t have the energy to waste on noticing her individual features or trying to understand the words she was throwing at him. He could barely even recall Ken’s last name, or whoever the short blonde was behind him. Yohji suddenly realized that his knuckles were aching from how tightly he was holding onto Aya’s pinky, wanting to hold onto the man but not sure if he might hurt him right now. As if Yohji was able to do anything else other than cause Aya grief.

"Aya…" Yohji trailed off, not sure what to put at the end of that sentence. Nothing had changed. Absolutely nothing. His hair was now completely knotless, every speck of dust delicately brushed off of his pale face, was breathing softly as the air pump at the side of his bed forced him to, alive but motionless. He had a little more color now; more of a paper white than a waxy grey, but it still wasn’t good enough. Not for Yohji. His Aya just wasn’t going down like this, in the middle of a hospital, without giving him the damn chance to tell him how damn sorry he was, what had really happened. He couldn’t let Aya die thinking that he had made Yohji bleed. He’d be bleeding more right now too, punishing himself with fatal wounds just like Aya…if the man wasn’t lying there in front of him, so fucking breakable.

He wasn’t going to cry. He didn’t have the right to.

"Hey, man, you need to fucking sleep," Ken started softly, as if speaking any louder would wake Aya up, as if the redhead was just taking a nap. Yohji desperately wanted that to be the case…wondered why he hadn’t tried screaming until he disturbed Aya out of his unconscious state. Maybe it was because Aya was the one that should be yelling at him- Yohji had gotten himself literally screwed last night, or was it the night before? Maybe even longer then that. Yohji didn’t know how long he had been sitting here at Aya’s bedside while the staff changed the IVs and checked on his status, if Ken and Omi had visited before this. Everything had already blurred into one endless night, hunched over Aya in the numb fear that if he closed his eyes and gave into that building exhaustion, he’d find a corpse in the morning.

"I can’t, not till Aya wakes up," Yohji returned in a scratching voice that felt like it hadn’t been used in years. Ken sighed like he expected that answer while Omi slowly joined the soccer player in standing behind Yohji’s chair. Omi didn’t have a good look on his face. It was worried and frightened and trying to hide that all from Yohji at the same time. He would have been suspicious, if he had wanted to spare the effort. He just coughed, wet his lips since it seemed like Ken and Omi weren’t going to let him get away with not talking, and squeezed Aya’s little finger reassuringly. Yohji just fucking knew that Aya wouldn’t want to deal with Ken and Omi right now, along with their misplaced concern and judgment. Aya wasn’t the one who had done something cowardly like trying to take his own life rather than deal with what had happened; Yohji had cheated on him, gone out and let someone rip his ass open. He should have told Aya that he had been raped, should have yelled it out over Aya’s screaming when the redhead had seen the blood, but he just hadn’t been able to say it. Yohji could admit to sleeping around, but not getting raped. He couldn’t even consider himself a man anymore, letting that particular virgin spot on his otherwise filthy body be defiled before he could let Aya in like he had always wanted to and unable to tell the truth to his lover.

"Come on, you at least need a shower. You haven’t eaten anything since you got here either, I bet," Ken tried to make it a joke for some inane reason, like he could just read Yohji like that. He leaned back when hands in his jeans pockets, smirking down at him. He was fucking smiling in Aya’s hospital room. Omi just swallowed nervously behind Ken, looking a little pale for some reason. Yohji noticed the kid’s backpack, realizing that Omi must have gone to class today. His mouth dropped; absolutely stunned that Omi was able to go to school when Aya had first fallen unconscious in a puddle of his own blood. Yohji didn’t believe that Omi had it in him to be so damn cold; there was no way that he could just push Aya’s suicide to the side.

"Aya slit his wrists," Yohji hissed out coldly, not about to bother with sensibility. He could just kill the both of them for standing there, looking cleaned, dressed, fed, having taken the time to do all these things instead of worrying about Aya. Yohji hadn’t been able to move, honestly was so fucking scared! Aya’s medical file was still in a bright red folder for critical condition, the policeman watching them was flirting with that quiet nurse across the hall, and nobody would let him take those humiliating straps off of Aya. Yohji had still loosened them up enough to move a hand freely underneath them, doing his best to lessen the effect when Aya awoke next. Because he was going to open those rare, violet eyes again.

"Yohji-kun…" Omi trailed off, obviously trying not to think about these little fucking facts. Aya had attempted suicide. There was no goddamn sugar-coating for this, Yohji’s personal hell come to life. He would be beating the shit out of Aya for worrying him so much if he hadn’t already done so much worse. Yohji bit his lip, wishing that his lover would just get better. Than he wouldn’t feel so damn empty, his life paused until Aya was aware enough to start talking to him. He wouldn’t care what the man said, just as long as he got to hear Aya’s voice again.

"Yeah, why did he do that, Yohji?" Ken asked in a sickeningly sweet voice that he must have learned from Omi. There was one full second where Yohji couldn’t even think about the shock of Ken actually asking that question. He let go of Aya’s finger then, because he couldn’t stop himself from making a fist that cracked and popped. Yohji opened his mouth to explain and then found himself simply breathing hard, trying to force out words when he had nothing to say. Yohji shook his head, pressing a trembling hand to his forehead as he decided to go for honesty. It was the only choice left to him now.

"I did something stupid last night," he admitted at last, almost feeling relieved that he was telling someone. He almost wanted the fight just to simply rouse himself from the daze he was being dragged into. Aya, Aya, Aya. Yohji didn’t have anything else beyond him. No family that hadn’t abandoned him, no friends with Ken asking Yohji in an accusative tone and Omi only standing behind him in silent support, no one who was going to comprehend him like Aya ha-did. Aya wasn’t dead yet. Yohji could hit himself for reflexively thinking so, but it was hard when it felt like he was watching Aya turn into a corpse on this sterile hospital bed. This was tearing him up inside and he didn’t even know what to do anymore. He was a fucking idiot, plain and simple.

"Oh, I already fucking know that. Guess who passed out crying in our bed last night," Ken sneered, being so cruel right now. Yohji deserved it, but he still couldn’t help snapping his head back around at the man in disbelief. It wasn’t so much how Ken had said it as what he had said. Aya cried himself to sleep while Yohji drank himself into some sort of sexual oblivion. He had attempted suicide the morning after. Yohji felt his shoulders slump, biting down on his own tongue. He wasn’t going to speak in his defense, not when he had screwed everything up so badly. Yohji still found it just plain sick that Ken was choosing to argue about this by Aya’s bedside.

"Ken-kun, please…" Omi stepped in at last, likely thinking the same thing. He tugged on Ken’s sleeve while the brunette shook his head at Yohji’s reactions. It was still too little, too late, and Yohji could only stare back at the two of them in horror.

"What, you didn’t hear that? I didn’t get a chance to tell you until you come back without your shirt and looking like rough sex," Ken somehow made his voice so cold, just as hard as his eyes. He got all protective like a dog over his friends, but Aya was Yohji’s boyfriend, his lover. There were things Aya knew that Ken would never even hear. Yohji had been able to tell Aya just how fucking stupid he had been. The two of them knew the full situation between them, unlike a simple damn roommate- because Ken sure as shit wasn’t his friend right now, bringing up the fact that Yohji’s neck was still covered in harsh love bites.

"You don’t know a fucking thing about this, Ken," Yohji warned quietly, standing up from his chair slowly, holding off the predictable dizziness that came with finally moving. He wasn’t about to just take this sitting down next to Aya’s hospital bed. Not when he was taller than Ken when he stood up to walk over to the man. He faced off with Ken, somehow managing to find the anger and desire to do violence. Omi winced and looked away from the both of them, backing off as he realized he didn’t really have a place in the conversation anymore.

"All I know is that my friend is in a hospital right now," Ken pointed down at the bed in accusation. Yohji’s fingernails bit into his palm with the desire to punch Ken across his face. He almost couldn’t believe what he was hearing, like Ken was the only one who was worried about Aya when he taken the fucking time to choose his favorite shirt to wear today. Yohji almost couldn’t stand the sight of him. He had already done that, already eaten himself up inside and knew that it still wasn’t good enough to make up for this- but Ken wasn’t the person to punish him. Ken didn’t have the goddamn privilege to do it. Yohji would gladly take any beating from Aya, and this time would know better than to walk out afterward. He grabbed Ken by the front of his short, forcing the younger man to bring up his own fists in self-protection. He shook Ken hard for daring to even move, shoving his face down into Ken’s to glare murder at him.

"He’s my lover!" Yohji managed at last, not sure why it was taking him so long to actually say anything. He too stunned by Aya trying to kill himself to be coherent right now, but violence would be the most eloquent thing right now. Ken face twisted down angrily and he sneered at Yohji’s words like they hadn’t meant a damn thing. Yohji wondered for a moment if he might be speaking in a different language as the brunette’s face slowly hardened up into something frightening.

"Then why didn’t you stop this?" Ken demanded, like Yohji had been some kind of mind reader and should have predicted that Aya would do this.

There was blood coming from the man’s split lip before Yohji even realized he had punched him. He just grabbed Ken up the shirt again, shoving their noses together and barely able to keep himself from tossing the man out the window from the eighth floor. He was honestly ready to kill Ken at that point. Barehanded; just tear him apart; yet still not wanting to do it in Aya’s room. Omi yelled at the both of them like a teacher trying to break up two students, but whatever he said was completely ignored by Yohji. Ken didn’t even spare a glance back to his own boyfriend, grabbing at Yohji’s own wrists and hesitating as if trying to choose between breaking the bones or simply disengaging his hands.

"I swear to God, Ken, don’t say another word," Yohji amazed himself when he just hissed it, too angry to be able to yell. Somewhere in the back of his head, Yohji didn’t want to yell in Aya’s room. Omi was already crying to the side, soft little gasps that he was trying to repress as he watched them fight like twelve-year-olds. Ken took that moment’s distraction to shake Yohji off, pulling his shirt back into place before sneering up at him.

"Or what, you’ll make me commit suicide too?"

Yohji slammed his fist into Ken’s stomach, hard enough to get the brunette to gag and hunch down around the blow. Then, Yohji found a full set of knuckles slamming against the side of his face as Ken swung right back around with a punch of his own. Omi cried aloud as Ken and Yohji both staggered back from each other, shaking off the damage and swearing off again.

"Take that back," Yohji couldn’t help yelling it at the top of his lungs. He wasn’t going to take that insult, wouldn’t allow that sort of callous statement to just be out in the open. He wanted Ken to fucking retract that little poison-filled question this very instant, because he wouldn’t let anyone belittle Aya’s suicide attempt like that. Yohji was surprised Ken was smart enough to be that sarcastic. Even Omi covered his mouth with a hand in complete shock that his perfect boyfriend could manage to be so cruel. Like Yohji didn’t already feel so utterly- fucking- responsible enough by himself; he didn’t need Ken putting a guilt trip on him. Yohji was already planning to copy Aya and kill himself right after the younger man recovered enough to hear his apology. If he could have done anything differently, he would have. Yohji had never guessed things would turn out like this, hated himself so much for putting Aya through this. His. Fault. All his fault.

"No! Back off, Yohji," Ken demanded coolly in the face of Yohji’s anger, too fucking calm for the situation. He didn’t seem to care about the blood that was slowly dripping down his chin or just how close Yohji was to ripping him in half; just was pissed off that Aya was unconscious from blood-loss and needed someone to blame.

"You fucking take that back right now!" Yohji screamed it at the top of his lungs even if they were only a hairsbreadth apart, never meaning anything more in his life. Ken didn’t know just who he was pushing too far right now. He got a hold of the man’s shoulder and arm and swung around, shoving Ken up against the wall as hard as he could manage. The smaller man still struggled when Yohji pressed a forearm into his neck, pushing at him and yelling. Omi begged weakly for them to just stop, standing in front of Aya’s bed protectively in case they brought the fight over there.

"And you want me to believe Mr. Kudoh doesn’t abuse my patient?" came a brand new voice from the hallway, managing to cut right through the middle of their fight. Yohji had to drop away from Ken at that, both of them loosening up in shock. Maybe they had the right to be sarcastic to each other after years of being together, but some stranger didn’t have the right to interrupt them. He turned around to face a doctor in a white robe over a patterned sweater, middle-aged, and frowning at Yohji in accusation. He only vaguely remembered this man as Aya’s doctor from when he had first been allowed in the room.

"You…what?" Yohji sputtered, not sure if he had even heard the man correctly.

"You have been given enough liberty with visiting hours, Mr. Kudoh. I came to announce that Mr. Fujimiya has cleared critical, and I would appreciate it if you would now leave," the doctor made ‘appreciate’ sound like an order. The policeman was finally there in the doorway, forgetting to flirt with the nurse and now actually doing his job as the doctor demanded him to abandon Aya because of some bogus visiting hours. He was the closest thing to a blood family that Aya had and wasn’t about to go anywhere.

"I’m not leaving him," Yohji made that very clear, forgetting Ken at that point. He wasn’t going to take one step out of this room unless he was following Aya. There was no way in hell he would leave before then.

"You’re free to come back tomorrow morning during visiting hours, but for now I will ask both of you to get out of my hospital. I will have you arrested if you do not leave now," the doctor pointed to both him and Ken, obviously considering them troublemakers. The threat of being put in prison was almost too much to consider. Yohji hated how doctors could just disregard the fact that their patients were still human beings, with friends and lovers that cared about them very much. Yohji was half-crazy with anxiety over Aya even while being right next to his bed. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like if he had to leave. Yohji realized then that he was only fighting with Ken because Aya wasn’t there doing it instead. He needed something, some spark of angry that could remind him of Aya.

"May I stay with Aya, Dr. Kido? I’ll leave when visiting hours end," Omi bargained, like just having one of them there for a few more hours would make a difference. He had to be there next to Aya, had to be the first person the man saw so he could explain everything. Yohji felt like his insides were turning into lead, not wanting some sort of compromise to be struck. He was going to stay here with Aya! As if reading his mind, the cop uncrossed his arms and started glaring at Yohji, already expecting more trouble. He had already punched a male nurse for trying to take him out of the room before- and then fully realized the doctor’s words. Yohji was only confirming the man’s suspicions that he ‘abused’ Aya. He really might just start crying despite it all.

"I don’t see a problem with you being here," the doctor was answering Omi, clearly considering the boy the only sane one of their group. Omi bowed back thankfully why Ken snorted in disgust and scratched at his hair. The brunette didn’t like the doctor just as much as Yohji, since they were both being threatened with an arrest. Yohji decided to just drop it at that point, knowing that if he fought anymore, he was likely to get thrown out of this hospital permanently.

"Ken…It’s my fault that Aya did this, but it wasn’t intentional. I’m stupid, I’m so- fucking- stupid. Please, I would never, ever…ever hurt Aya," Yohji was careful and calm in choosing his words, full-heartedly admitting to what he had done. He just couldn’t share any more than that right now. Yohji was looking straight at the doctor, locking eyes and refusing to even let the man blink before he turned back to Ken. He was being dead honest, completely open to the both of them, because anything less right now would probably have him arrested by that fucking cop. Yohji hated the guy for just watching dispassionately, ready to be ordered around by some overweight, pompous jerk that thought he knew the first thing about Yohji and Aya’s relationship.

The doctor cleared his throat dangerously.

"Fuck. Fuck, I know that Yohji. Let’s get out of here first," Ken matured quickly after that heartfelt confessional and the doctor beginning to tap his foot impatiently. Yohji was too tired to do anything but give up, about ready to cry at the utter fucking hopelessness. Ken managed to switch back to being his friend rather quickly, taking Yohji by the elbow and leading him out before the doctor could say another word. The policeman followed them all the way down the hall, watching in an oppressive silence as they hit the elevator button. He didn’t even budge until Ken gently pushed Yohji into the elevator and the door closed; slowly turning back around to find that pretty, young nurse again. Omi started moving toward the seat Yohji had left empty after that, vaguely wondering what he could talk about to an unconscious Aya. He knew that he would like to hear a friend’s voice right now, but had been left alone in the slightly cold hospital room.

"Mr. Tsukiyono, would you mind coming back to my office to talk in private?" Doctor Kido didn’t really make it sound like a suggestion.

* * *
Waking up hurt, a slow agony as if he was being forcibly dragged back into awareness. He had never been so tired before. His heartbeat thudded once in his ears and faded again, a lame and sluggish rhythm. Aya became aware of something shoved up his nasal canal, an alien weight as air was shoved into him. His arms were deadweights at his side, a burning itch running along both forearms that was delightfully distant. Aya usually panicked when he was drugged, but he didn’t feel the need to scream and fight like usual. He was starting to come back to himself, pupils moving against eyelids glued shut. He wasn’t strong enough to open them yet, somehow managing to shift his weight in the process to become aware of straps.

Leather straps across his chest.

He was restrained to a bed.

Aya whimpered, desperate to open his eyes now. The pain may be distant, but the ice climbing up his gut wasn’t. He had to see where he was. He had to see Yohji- staring up at him in all of his after-sex glory, beautiful curly hair sticking to the sweat on his face, looking up at Aya with perfect emerald as…Aya pulled out his penis covered in lube, semen, and blood. He was drugged up enough to think about it now instead of just screaming. To fully realized that he had torn Yohji open. He had finally been able to show Yohji all his love, actually say it aloud- and he had raped the man till he bled. Tears were building up behind eyes that wouldn’t open to shed them. He had completely disregarded any respect for Yohji, had just taken the man for his own pleasure. Aya had become just like those fucking monsters in his memory. He knew exactly what it was like to have his anus rip and bleed, but it had always been strangers or sadists. Aya had never had anyone he trusted, he loved, take him like that. Yohji had done nothing but treat him with the utmost respect, had never attempted anything Aya was absurdly uncomfortable with, and he had treated that like utter trash. He had used Yohji like a body to thrust into, nothing but animalistic lust. Aya couldn’t call that love, wasn’t about to blame Yohji for driving him mad with desire. It was his own fault for losing control.

It was his fault.

Aya realized then that he was still alive and had not planned on being so. He had run to the bathroom because it was the closest room with a lock…and hadn’t been able to live with what he had done. He couldn’t bear the shame, his dick still sticky and warm from Yohji, not after betraying everything between them. Aya didn’t even know how he had thought of it, just punched out the glass door for the shower and picked up one of the shards. He hadn’t even hesitated, able to make two long, sure slashes before they could even hurt. Aya knew how to slit his wrists properly after killing people for years, watching the blood well up in satisfaction before it started hurting. Just a stinging at first, and then a fire crawling up around his shoulder and his heart. Aya actually felt the blood drain out of him, faster now. He didn’t know why he should find it frightening now, already after deciding to go through with this. Things would be right this way. He couldn’t bear to hurt Yohji.

For some reason, Aya could only recall Yohji from that point on. He had always heard that your life would flash before your eyes, a morbid bit of cliché before he died. Instead, Aya just remembered one split-second of his time with Yohji. It hadn’t even been a special day, winter or something, late at night in the living room as Ken and Omi headed up to be first. Aya and Yohji always tended to stay up a bit later than the other couple, but Aya had wanted to go upstairs anyway and just lie in bed together until they finally fell asleep. He had called out Yohji’s name and the blonde had turned around with the most gorgeous smile on his face, meant just for him. Yohji had really looked at Aya then, knowing every aspect of him and accepting it all. He weathered the worst of his tempers, put up with all of Aya’s fears and ‘bitching’ without ever complaining himself. It had only been a simple grin, but Aya had finally understood how much Yohji had loved him at that point. And he wanted to see that smile so badly, just one last time. Even though he deserved it, should have done something more painful and dragged-out if he wasn’t sure Yohji would be breaking down the door soon, Aya didn’t want to die. It was instinctive and basic fear that his final moment with Yohji had been brutalizing the man in the middle of sex.

Aya had collapsed against the floor then, a bit of glass digging into different parts of his body. His blood was warm against his face even as his body cooled. His vision was beginning to fade at the edges, the curve of the toilet the only thing in his sight. Fitting. Aya was nothing more than a priceless piece of shit, like Yohji had called him once. He heard the man yell on the other side of the door in a scared, distressed voice. Aya didn’t want Yohji to be upset; he was doing this so the blonde wouldn’t get hurt. He had hurt Yohji. He wanted to apologize to the man’s face before he died. Aya had never liked running from confrontation. He wanted to see Yohji again. Aya suddenly struggled to just lift his head, to call out his lover’s name one last time.

He didn’t want to die alone.

"Yohji," Aya could only whisper it now, managing to pry his eyes to escape that memory. If he was alive, he wanted to see Yohji.

"Guten Morgen, love," Schuldig greeted him, his face a mere inch from Aya’s own. It wasn’t fair that the German had the same green eyes as Yohji, a little bit lighter and huge, vast, ready to devour his soul; an old nightmare that Yohji now protected him from. He had even been able to charm Aya into completely forgetting that he did have such deadly enemies out there. How could this even be possible now? Aya couldn’t to breathe as he stared up in horror at the German, the insane man who had been his enemy for years, his mental tormentor for even longer. He wasn’t Yohji. He was a devil come to life.

Aya knew he had died then.

He had died and gone straight to hell.
AUTHORS NOTES: physically hiding.

Aren’t I delightfully evil?

After all that, Aya did need some punt-ay, but, look where it got him. More Nagi does a fan fic reader good. Farfarello and Bradley, too, I promise they’ll all be making an appearance! I forgot what my point was for this Author note. I finally got a live journal after being physically beaten by a friend over a game of Apples to Apples (which I have course, never played before)…

http://www.livejournal.com/users/animegher/ Look what I can do. You can read me bitch about how slow I write, AKA how the next chapter is coming along. Website in progress.

Japan was –fucking- amazing.

I never felt more exotic in my whole life. It was great. Japanese people wanted to take their pictures with my sister and me, because we were white. There’s nothing like being lost in the subway and having to ask some bishonen where to go (‘can you point it out on the map?’ AKA let me see your hands!). I think the best conversation I had was with a little Japanese girl.

In Japanese:

CUTE AS A BUTTON: You’re American?

ME: Yes, I’m from America!

CUTE AS A BUTTON: I’m Japanese!

ME: Yeah…

After a little bit more conversation, I learned she was five years old…and still Japanese. Just in case I had forgotten while we had talked. I wished I had something cheap and American (don’t those two things just go together so well?) to give her. I told her she was pretty and she went running off. I wanted to steal her.

I ended up doing Kyoto same style as Samurai Champloo without even meaning to. Toilets are holes in the ground, so that wasn’t so cool… more bitching later. I realized I’ve been writing Tokyo totally wrong, so let’s hear it for first-hand experience! Expect renovations soon. Ikebukuro was my bitch at the end of the day!
IT’S GERMAN! A new segment to the already too-long credits. As requested by a few, translation for the German used in this fic. Not much this chapter, but…

Guten Morgen- Go~od morning! (Or is it?)

Kätzchen- kitty! Now you stop laughing right meow, boy. *5 bucks to the person who puts that into context.
AUTHOR’S ALPHABETICALLY LAME RESPONSE TO SUCH AWESOME REVIEWS:

Anon-the ring seems to be a big point. Well, it is! I can’t tell more without giving it all away, so please just stay with me and read more! I’m so happy you read this with that much vigor! Thank you for reviewing!

Bisexual Pygmie- yeah, I was plotting something much more evil and then it occurred to me- Ken and Omi not getting it on?! Blasphemy! Ah, there we go, little bit of Ken-on-Omi action to prove the summary correct. Thank you for reviewing again!

CC- I just lived every fan girl’s dream. I am SO inspired (once again, saw a real live Yohji. Cocaine addict definitely, but the resemblance was THERE!) I love Jerry for the pure insanity of it and how cool he can stay despite his audience. Jerry was the feel-good movie of the year! Lol, as Kero would say, putting that thought aside. Thank you for reviewing.

Eternitys End- comments do a body good! Once again, I promise Yohji angst. Oh, it’s a-happening. Thank you so much for going through and reviewing all the chapters you had missed before, that really made my day. So glad to have you beta-ing again!

Evilkat- I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. Sweet. Tried to think of Aya’s rational after that point and eventually came to the conclusion he’d just go absolutely nuts. Glad you enjoyed. Poke your husband harder, Japan is JUST as good as you imagine it to be! Word on Gojyo/Sanzo. Thank you!

Halcyon- it takes a while to get the angst-engine revving, but now it’s full speed ahead! Complexity and mystery dashed with crude humor made up all purdy-like. We need some Ken POV soon, don’t we? –Sigh- cuddles some more for reviewing. Thank you!

ilovedaveyhavok – here I am, to deliver amazingly depressing fics. Ah, Japan was great, once again, I saw a real-live Yohji. It was great. Updating soon…hopefully. If I get more nice reviews like yours. Thank you!

Jenna Muff- may I say that I love your name. I’d be SO rocking as Anime Gher Muff. I’d make you a big plate of fresh Aya angst every night if we got married. But first, Yohji angst (giggles at finally driving our beloved blonde to the point of CUTTING OFF HIS HAIR. I think that character design for Gluhen alone is why I’m making this so awful). Thank you for the reviews and binge-reading, that makes me feel all warm inside.

Jessica- If you’re reading this, it means you found other places where my fiction is archived. Thank you for the email and I hope you’re enjoying the story so far! (Pets poor Aya-kitty)

Jukebox csi- everyone was just as beautiful in Japan as they should be (bouncing back from one foot to the other ‘Saiyuki…Weiss…Saiyuki…Weiss?!’ priorities, priorities.) I’m so inspired I don’t know what to do with myself after coming back to nice reviews like yours. Thank you.

Koji-chan-(first to review for this chapter! Hooray!) Thank you once again for going the extra mile even after media miner fucks up your review each and every time, even though you complimented it at first. Aya’s suicide came as a surprise for all of us (laughs evilly while petting my cat, lightning and thunder in the background. I’m just that bad)

Memorietrail- Thank you once again for always reviewing at adult-fanfiction.org! You’ve got the sweetest comments, always, so thank you for dropping a line every new chapter. Sometimes even two. I worked extra hard to get this out after I saw how much you wanted the next chapter, thank you!

StrawberryProphet- I’m glad you like the whole package. Oh, Yohji will be giving Aya the ring, don’t you worry. This is something I like to call plot device. ^_^ sigh I’m going to get beaten for how long I make people wait some times. Thank you for the review!

Touga- I have to tell you this, promise not to cry. In Japan, I saw a commercial of a shirtless Gackt….lifting a naked American girl out a pool- there’s a chance for us yet. But, on the other hand, some real life Japanese bohemian Yohji’s! (Sobs some more that I’m back in USA) Hakkai and Gojyo are so blatantly lovers that half the fun is not writing them (coughs and rolls eyes at the Ken/Omi in this fic so far. That’s coming too.)

Vamos a jugar por la playa- Makes the ‘Buddy Jesus’ pose. Thank you so much. I hope I can continue providing you with high-quality pre-Gluhen fic with half the calories.

Weisslover27- Yessum, providing more. I feel like I’m writing pure addictive substances at some times, I’m such a bad dealer for making the update wait this long. Thank you for reviewing!

Yin- yes, physical reaction to my story! Nyaha, more angst you say? I think I can do that. (Giggles insanely). I’m so glad to have you along for the ride in this crazy, not-angsty-enough-fic world! Thank you for the 10 out of 10, I feel like I got the Olympic gold for smut!
BETA-BYATCHES

Auribiel- A helpful, bilingual, and well, I’m just going to come straight out and say it, sexy individual.

Cattley- who ALSO put me as "#1 on her 'favorite writers of all time'-list!" There’s the warm fuzzy feeling if I ever felt it.

Eternitysend- In all of her highlighting glory, returning to Weiss again for some good Aya-on-top-action.

Iamavice- finally some free time brings her back to me! Glomp much? I know I do.

Iie nome- tried and true. Along with the rest of her friends talking loudly about my fics at a Taco Bell…gosh that’s special.

(And precedes to pokes everyone that complains about the grammar with a stick.

Don’t just bitch about Bush, vote. Same practice applies here. Beta me, byatches!)
There, all done. That wasn’t so bad, was it?
- 5
- 6
- 7
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